Tyce felt a little of her tension seep out of her body so he lowered his head and slowly, gently kissed the corner of her mouth, leaving his lips there, inhaling her unique scent. This time he allowed his head to swim, and placed a hand in the middle of her back and pulled her up against his body, his erection pushing into her stomach, her breasts against his chest. Sage sighed and once again he slowly, gently traced the seam of her mouth, the edges of her lips. He wanted to plunge and plunder, to allow their crazy passion to spiral but he knew that if he let passion reign, he’d lose her.
This was a kiss of promise, of tenderness, something different than what they’d ever shared before. This wasn’t the time, he reminded his junk, to do what came naturally. That time would come later and he could wait. This moment was too important to mess up.
Tyce pulled back and then stepped away from her, running his hands through his hair. He risked looking at Sage. She held her fingers to her lips, her eyes wide and dreamy. Tyce started to move toward her, caught himself and muttered a silent curse.
His sensible side surfaced. If he didn’t corral his emotional side he would create that which would be forever difficult to tame. Later, he could love her when emotion wasn’t running quite so high, when his heart wasn’t trying to punch its way out of his chest. Yeah, it was better if they calmed down a little.
Or a lot.
* * *
Sage had run out of excuses to delay meeting Lachlyn. She’d deliberately missed a dinner at The Den to introduce Lachlyn to the clan and she’d postponed meeting her for coffee. Twice. Her excuses were so thin they had holes in them. Giving in to verbal pressure from her brothers, and subtle, silent pressure from Tyce, Sage finally asked Tyce’s sister to meet her at The Den. Linc and Tate and their kids were out of town so she had her childhood home to herself and she thought it was the right place for their first meeting.
Sage stepped into the hallway of the famous brownstone and started to unwrap her scarf. “Maybe we should’ve met at a coffee shop.”
Tyce, who’d offered to accompany her to The Den and stay to introduce them before leaving them to talk, didn’t reply. He just stood in the double-volume hallway, his eyes darting around the magnificent space. Tyce was another reason why she couldn’t delay meeting Lachlyn any longer. The newest member of the clan was his sister and she couldn’t keep avoiding her baby’s aunt.
Despite her excuses not to meet Lachlyn, Sage could admit to feeling a tad braver, a little stronger about the changing circumstances. Also, being around Tyce made her feel like she should step up a bit more. He was consistently strong and she was not talking about that most very excellent body she adored. He was mentally tough and if they were going to co-parent together, be in each other’s lives, she had to be, as well.
She wanted to be the best version of herself, for her baby, obviously, but also for Tyce.
“Are you okay, Sage?”
Sage darted a look at him and shrugged. Was she? This was a little similar to an adopted child meeting her biological mother for the first time. “I’m nervous, jittery, excited, nauseous.”
Tyce’s smile touched his sexy mouth. “She’s feeling the same.”
“You should be with her, Tyce. This is a big deal for her,” Sage said, feeling guilty.
“Lach is an excited nervous but you’re a terrified nervous,” Tyce replied. “Lachlyn isn’t going to run like a rabbit but you might.”
True. Will she like me? Sage placed a hand on her stomach. Will I like her? Will she get my jokes? God, she really hoped Lachlyn had a sense of humor. Would she ask to borrow money or clothes or, God, jewels? No, of course she wouldn’t, this was Tyce’s sister, for goodness’ sake, and Tyce wouldn’t have raised her to think like that.
Will she like me? Will I like her?
Now she was repeating her thoughts and totally losing it. Sage glanced at her watch, a minute to go, if Lachlyn was the prompt type.
“Take a breath, Sage.”
“Why am I doing this?”
“I’m presuming that’s a rhetorical question?” Tyce asked, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.
“Lachlyn might fly into my life, hang around and then disappear again.”