Three days later, Sage sat on the corner of her sofa, her feet on an ottoman. Tyce was still with her and he was clearing up after dinner. He was a fabulous cook, far better than she was. She glanced down at the papers on her lap and wrinkled her nose. Depending on the answers to the surveys she held in her hand, Tyce might even be a better parent than her...
When they had started to talk about the baby, they both, swiftly, realized that the real work started once the baby was born and that they had no idea what they were doing. They both knew how to change a diaper and make a bottle; Sage had looked after her nephews often enough for the mechanics to sink in and Tyce remembered changing and feeding Lachlyn when he was little more than a kid himself. They’d agreed that, because the baby would be raised in two separate homes, they needed a consensus on how the logistics would work, on what mattered and what didn’t, what lines couldn’t be crossed.
Not knowing how to start, they’d turned to the net.
Sage felt Tyce’s breath on her cheek and she looked up to see him leaning down, his mouth close to her ear. “Do you think these parenting surveys are a good idea?”
Sage looked into his eyes and she shrugged. “I don’t know. But I think they would give us an idea of our different parenting styles. I think I’ll be more of an operate-from-instinct type of parent and I suspect that you will be the disciplined one.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Oh, the fact that you do Tai Chi at the crack of dawn, you go to the dojo four times a week and that you run six miles a day.”
“Eight,” Tyce corrected her and Sage saw the flash of the dimple in his cheek as the corners of his mouth lifted. Then she noticed that he was holding a bag of frozen peas, which he dropped into her lap.
“Slap it against your tailbone and that bruise,” he told her, holding a glass of red wine in his other hand.
Sage tried to twist her waist so that the bag of peas hit the right spot but winced when she turned. While she wasn’t in as much pain as she had been the evening of the accident, she was still damned sore. Tyce whipped the bag from her hand.
“Can you lean forward a bit?” he asked her, his big hand on her shoulder.
Sage leaned forward so that he could slide the bag down her back. She winced again as the cold seeped through the fabric of her yoga pants. With her injuries, yoga pants, a snug sports top and hoodie was all Tyce had seen her in. Super casual wasn’t her best look. “Damn, I’m not sure what’s worse, the cold or the bruise.”
Tyce sat down next to her, his muscled thigh pressing into hers, and her body started to tingle. “Trust me, the bruise is worse,” Tyce said.
“That bad?” she asked. After all, she couldn’t see it herself.
“Size of a football and a deep, angry blue,” Tyce told her. “You hit the ground at speed.”
He snagged a copy of the survey from her lap and squinted at the paper. “Okay, let’s do this. Question one... Is diaper changing a job for the mom, the dad or both of you?” His lips twitched. “That’s easy. If it’s loaded, it’s your job.”
“And if I’m not with you?” Sage asked, feeling the heat from his body, his fresh, citrus-masculine-Tyce smell drifting up her nose. Her sensitive nipples tightened and her blood slowly heated.
“The kid will have to hold it,” Tyce replied before flashing her one of his sexy, oh-so-rare grins. “I’m kidding. I’ll do my share but, fair warning, I’ll try and charm you into doing it if I can. If I can’t charm you, I might resort to begging.”
He’d probably succeed too, Sage thought as drops of water from the frozen packet of peas ran down her butt and she twisted her arm, wanting to pull the bag away.
Tyce placed his hand on hers and shook his head. “Five more minutes. Please?”
Sage pulled her hand out from under his and gave him a reluctant nod. Tyce’s hand moved up to her shoulder so she partially spun around so that the back of her head rested on his chest. She looked down at her sheet of paper.
“The two most important qualities I want my child to possess? Mmm, that’s hard.”
Tyce didn’t hesitate. “Resilience and determination.”
Sage nodded, immediately understanding that his childhood would’ve been even more difficult if he hadn’t been blessed with enormous doses of those traits.
“You?” Tyce asked.
Sage bit the inside of her lip. “I’d like our child to be bold and courageous. To have confidence.”
“Just like her, or his, mama.”
Sage tipped her head back, saw the warmth in his eyes and wanted to explain that she wasn’t bold, or brave. She was scared to live life to the fullest, scared of what life had in store for her, scared to love, to open herself up and feel. She wanted to tell Tyce that her default habit was to run from people and situations that made her feel uncomfortable, that every day she spent with him was a curious combination of terror and exhilaration. He made her feel alive, like she was plugged into an unseen source of energy that replenished and renewed. She also had a knot in her stomach because she knew that this couldn’t last, her bruises would fade and Tyce would move back to the periphery of her life, leaving her feeling empty and alone.
Sage saw Tyce swallow, noticed that he clutched the paper a little tighter, felt the tension radiating off him. He cleared his throat and when he spoke his voice was a low growl. “Next question... I know my partner is going to be a wonderful parent because...hell.”
Sage faced him and she caught the fear in his eyes, the flicker of insecurity that crossed his face. She frowned. “Wait... Do you not think that you will be a good parent?”
Tyce’s expression changed to inscrutability and, because she did it herself, Sage knew that it was his way of retreating, silently telling her that he didn’t want to continue this discussion. She took the piece of paper from his hand, dropped it, and the bag of peas, to the floor. She turned to face him and placed her hand on his heart and felt the thud-thud-thud of his heart beneath her palm. “Why on earth would you think that?”
Tyce took a long time to answer. “Because I had a crappy upbringing? Because I never had chance to be a child so I have no idea how to relate to one? How am I going to deal with a child when I can barely tolerate people?”
“You seem to be able to tolerate me,” Sage pointed out.
Tyce raked his hand through his hair. “Yeah, well, you...you’re the exception to the rule.”
It would be easy to make a joke in order to lighten the mood, to push away the cloud of emotion hanging over their heads. But Sage didn’t want to, not this time, this one time. Sage lifted her hand to run her fingers along his jaw. “Tyce, you’re a man who steps up to the plate, who accepts his responsibilities, who does the right thing. Sure, you’re not the most voluble person in the world but, when you speak, you always have something valuable to say. You’re intelligent and talented—” her fingers drifted over his mouth and she handed him a small smile “—and you’re hot. Our baby will be just fine and you will be too.”
* * *
Tyce felt her words wash over him, as restorative as soft, soaking summer rain. Funny how, with a few words, Sage could make him miss something he’d never had. He’d read so many positive reviews, was the recipient of numerous awards, a million kudos about his art, but he’d never been complimented for the man he was. It made his stomach flip, his heart pound, his soul sigh.
It definitely lowered his resistance to her, made him want to throw caution to the wind and take what he constantly craved. Tyce allowed his thumb to drift across her chin and slide across her full bottom lip but if he kissed her now he wouldn’t be able to stop. He’d pull her clothes off her spectacular body and he’d kiss every patch of her skin, starting with her mouth and ending with her toes. He’d wait until she was writhing with need, unable to remember her own name, wait until she was screaming his before sliding into her and pitching them into oblivion.
He wanted her with an intensity that rocked him to his core.
Sage leaned forward, curled her fingers around his neck and rested her forehead on his cheekbone. Sparks skittered through him. “Make love to me, Tyce. Just once more.”
She’d echoed his thoughts, subconsciously picking up on his burning desire. Tyce groaned and shook his head. “It’s not a good idea, Sage. You’re still bruised and it’ll make the situation, us, so much more complicated.”
“I need not to think, I need to step out of my head,” Sage murmured. “You can do that for me because you’re the only one who can.”
“You’re hurt—”
“I’m fine and I want you. I want to remember how good we were together and I want to forget all the complications, just for a little while. You’re the best medicine for what ails me, Tyce.”
He shouldn’t; this wasn’t a good idea. They had a child to raise together, a life to navigate as co-parents and friends, hearts to protect.
“Making love to you always made me feel centered, stronger, better. Make me feel like that again, Tyce.”
He was just a man and not half as strong as he thought he was. Hell, around Sage, he wasn’t strong at all. She made him feel, made him ache, made him step out from behind his walls. He shouldn’t do this; it wasn’t smart but, like her, he was throbbing with need, desperate to have her and taste her, to lose himself in her.
Just once.
Tyce watched caution fly away on the wind as his mouth touched hers. Her lips immediately opened and he swept his tongue inside, and then he was riding the storm. Yeah, this, Sage, her hand against his chest, the fingers of her other hand raking through his hair, was what he couldn’t resist. Her mouth was pure sugar-spice and he could kiss her until time fizzled away.
He needed to take this slow, Tyce reminded himself as he unzipped the front of her hoodie. He eased the sides apart and left her lips long enough to pull his head back so that he could look at her. Her nipples were pushing through the fabric of her sports top and he had to taste one bud. He pulled the stretchy fabric down and sucked her nipple into his mouth, laving her with his tongue before taking her in even deeper. She felt so amazing, familiar yet different.
Sage was making those little breathy moans that turned him steel hard. Tyce pushed her hoodie off and lifted her top up and over her head. He tossed both to the floor, gently pushing her back so that she lay flat on the couch.
Putting his hands on either side of her head, he looked down into her lovely face. “Are you okay? Sure you want to do this?”
“Yes and I’m fine.”
She wasn’t; he could see a little pain under her passion. “Tell me if you want to stop.”
Sage’s low laugh danced over his skin. “Not a chance.” She tapped his chest. “You have too many clothes on, Latimore.”
Tyce sat back, pulled his T-shirt over his head and sucked in his breath when Sage’s hand ran over a pec, across a nipple and over his stomach. She tugged at the band of his jeans. “Off.”
“You first.” Tyce slid his hands along her back, across her hips, his thumbs hooking the band of her yoga pants and pulling them down. He looked at the tiny triangle of fabric covering her secret, feminine places and couldn’t help his eyes moving up, to her stomach. He hauled in a breath and placed a hot, openmouthed kiss on her tiny baby bump, before placing his ear on her stomach.
Sage’s hand touched his hair and he knew that she was also thinking of their baby, the fact that they’d made another person doing what they did best, and that was loving each other... Giving each other pleasure.
Talking about pleasure, Tyce pulled up and back. He’d heard Sage’s hiss of pain when she lifted her butt to take off her pants and he had no intention of hurting her again. He’d have to be creative making love to her and that was okay; creativity was one of his strongest traits.
Tyce slipped his fingers under the thin bands of her thong and twisted, snapping first one side of her panties and then the other. His heart beating a million miles per minute, he pulled the fabric from between her legs and then Sage was naked, looking as beautiful as he’d ever seen her.
He just looked and then looked some more, his concentration breaking when Sage’s hand danced across her stomach and headed lower. Oh, hell, no, giving her pleasure was his job.
Tyce quickly shucked his pants, his mind swirling with possibilities. Missionary sex was out, as was her kneeling on top of him. Hell, he doubted that he’d even get inside her but that was okay. Giving Sage pleasure, rocketing her to an orgasm, was more important than him getting off.
Naked now, Tyce slid his fingers between her folds, dazed by her wet warmth. It was such a turn-on to know she wanted him as much as he wanted her. They’d messed up so often but this truly was what they did best.
Sage’s fingers pressed his onto her most sensitive spot. “I need you, Tyce. I need this.”
Her low, slow and sexy words sent more blood, if that was possible, to his already throbbing erection. Sage’s hand moved to her side and she encircled him and Tyce was quite certain that if she kept up that squeezing, stroking action, he’d lose it.
But, judging by her trembling limbs and her flushed body, her desperate eyes, Sage was hovering on the edge, as well. Tyce moved so that he was looming over her, his arms holding his weight off her. Positioning himself, he rubbed her, his shaft sliding over that bundle of nerves. Sage moaned her approval and he repeated the action, loving her heat and the friction and hell, just being close to her. Being inside her would be better but this was almost as good. Tyce lifted one hand and pushed her hair out of her eyes, wanting to watch her climb. Her eyes met his and he stepped into the deep, now-foggy blue. She lifted her hips and he shook his head. “Let me do the work, sweetheart.”
“Then get on with it,” Sage hissed.
God, he’d forgotten how demanding she could be when she was on the brink and he wasn’t giving her what she wanted. In the past he’d loved to tease her, taking her, and her temper, higher until she shattered in his arms.
She was on the brink now, so close. And so was he. Unable to resist, Tyce pushed himself between her legs, sliding into her hot tight channel, keeping her legs together so that she didn’t put any more pressure on her coccyx and bruises than necessary. She was hot and tight and he couldn’t move the way he wanted to but he’d deal. He was inside Sage and he’d stepped into heaven.
Sage moaned and he gently thrust against her, short shallow strokes that were more erotic than he believed possible. Tyce rested his elbows on cushions next to her head. He cradled her face and kissed her, his tongue matching the rhythm of his hips.
He felt Sage’s breath quicken, felt her tremble and then felt the gush of warmth against him, the tightening of her internal walls. That was all he needed and he tensed as pleasure rocketed through him. He groaned into Sage’s mouth and then again, holding her tight as tremors passed from her body to his, his to hers.
While his brain and body patched itself back together, he stroked Sage’s glorious frame and dropped gentle kisses on her mouth, her cheekbone, her jaw. His hand stopped when it reached her stomach and his big hand covered most of her slight bump.
His. The thought came from his heart and skittered through his body. The baby was his and so was she. Somehow, in whatever form they took, and on some level they would always be his.
* * *
The next morning, Sage stood in her shower and lifted her face up to receive a blast of hot water. She ached in places she didn’t know she had, good places, places that had been long neglected. Her body felt like she’d spent the day at a spa, loose and relaxed.
Her mind felt like a turtle trying to walk through peanut butter.
Sage placed her hands on the wall of the shower cubicle and watched the water swirl around the drain. What were the implications of making love with Tyce? Was it a once-off thing? What did any of it, all of it, mean?
Sage closed her eyes in frustration and slapped her hand against the white tiles. What had happened to her ordered, calm life? Three months ago she felt calm and in charge and one night—one night!—with Latimore flipped everything around.
Tyce was an amazing lover, but he was also a good man. Good seemed like a bland word but Sage thought it was underused and misunderstood. Good didn’t mean rich or good-looking; it meant that someone was prepared to do the right thing, the honorable thing, to take the path less traveled, even if it flew in the face of convention. Good, to her, meant that he was responsible, honorable and honest.
She liked him...
Sage sighed. She’d forgotten how much she enjoyed his company out of the bedroom. She spoke more than he did but, over these past few days, Tyce held up his end of the conversation. They’d discussed movies and politics, books and, of course, art. Actually, they’d argued about art... Tyce, surprisingly, had a fondness for the Dutch Golden Age of painting, artists like Hals and van Baburen, and Sage preferred art from the twentieth century.
But whether they were talking art or music, spending time with Tyce was...fun. Stimulating and relaxing at the same time. She felt she could say anything to him and he wouldn’t judge her. Connor was like that and Sage was reminded of how much alike they were. Strong, alpha, honorable men. Honest men...about everything. Including their antipathy toward relationships and commitment.
Like before, Tyce tempted her to open up, to give him more, to delve beneath the surface of her armor. That was still a very dangerous path to walk down and she couldn’t allow herself to take it. She could not drop her shields and let him into her heart. That way lay hurt, disappointment and madness. Tyce had the power, like nobody she’d ever encountered before, to turn her life upside down. Loving and then losing him would devastate her and having to interact with him as they raised a child together would be like trying to dodge asteroid strikes while walking through the last level of hell.
Frankly, that scenario was best to be avoided. If she was smart she’d say thanks for the fun time and push him out of her apartment and her life. She’d done it with other men, not many, and she could do it with Tyce. But she didn’t want to. She wanted more sex, more conversations and yes, she thought as her stomach growled, more of his fabulous cooking.
Maybe she could have a fling with him. She could enjoy his body and his mind and when they ran out of steam, which they would, she’d revert back to being friends and co-parents because she’d been sensible and kept her heart out of their interactions.
She could do that, she decided. Connor told her she could do anything she wanted to...
Okay, maybe he hadn’t been thinking of her in terms of her having a no strings fling when he imparted those words of wisdom. But she was a smart, modern woman and like millions of smart, modern women she knew that the act of sex was not a declaration of love, commitment or anything other than the giving and receiving of pleasure.
She could keep her heart out of the equation and stay emotionally protected.
Couldn’t she?