The painting in her loft. God, he didn’t but it was early on in his career.
“It was nine years ago and I’ve always been obsessed about ballet and wished I had the talent to be a professional dancer. I saw that painting and I fell in love with it. I was nineteen, twenty? I begged Connor to buy it for me but he wouldn’t. When I turned twenty-one Connor released some money into my trust fund and I tracked down the owner and I paid him three times what he originally paid. I hadn’t met you yet but I wanted that painting more than I wanted to breathe.”
Touched, Tyce opened his mouth to speak but she held up her hand to stop him from saying anything. “I persuaded my siblings to buy Jaeger one of your sculptures for a birthday present, and Connor, at my insistence, bought another three of your paintings for his private collection. One is on the main wall of the reception area of Ballantyne International. Connor said that, while he’d never liked the Tired Ballerina, he loved your new work. He said that you were going to be one of the best and one of the most influential artists of the twenty-first century and… Guess what? You are. You are worth every cent you are paid. If you don’t believe one word I’ve ever said, please, please, believe that.”
Tyce closed his eyes, not wanting her to see the emotion there and he dug his fingers into her skin, hoping that she wouldn’t feel the trembling in his hands. He felt both tired and rejuvenated, wiped out and energized.
And God, free. Sage’s words made him feel empowered, unrestricted. She made him feel like he could take on the world single-handed and win. He wanted to tell her how much what she’d said meant to him, how life-changing it was, but the words stuck in his throat. He ducked his head and hoped that he could convey what he was trying to say with his mouth, his hands, by worshipping her body.
But Sage was way ahead of him. She stood on her toes and placed her lips on his, her tongue tracing the seam of his lips, demanding that he open up. He whispered a Hell, yeah and she slid her tongue into his and she dialed up the temperature, demanding his response. Tyce yanked her to him, his hands looking for bare skin. He was still pulling her shirt out of her jeans when Sage’s hand slid under his sweatshirt and her fingers tap-danced their way across his abs, her thumb swiping the space between his belly button and the low band of his jeans. His stomach muscles contracted and she groaned her approval and her kisses turned wild.
Then Sage’s hands attacked the button on his jeans. Who was this woman taking control, whose hand was sliding underneath his underwear to encircle him? She’d been timid, sometimes shy about telling him what turned her on but today she knew exactly what she wanted. Tyce felt blood pump into his erection and he turned rock hard in her hand.
Sage gave another throaty murmur of approval and she wrenched her mouth from his and stepped back to pull his shirt up and over his head. As soon as his chest was bare she slapped her open mouth against his sternum, her tongue tracing a fiery path down his body.
Holy crap, she couldn’t possibly be thinking of…
He’d pleasured her like this before but he knew that she wasn’t comfortable, yet, to reciprocate. He’d spent many, many nights imagining Sage doing exactly this but his imagination, which was powerful, had nothing on this. Her tongue flicked over his abs and he groaned and reached back to grab the edge of a shelf, convinced that his knees were about to buckle.
Sage pushed his jeans down his legs and worked her fingers under the band of his underwear. Cool air touched his straining erection and her fiery mouth on his skin was a complete contrast. He didn’t know if he could handle this: his fantasies had fallen well short of how she made him feel. In his dreams, his heart never felt like it was about to beat through his chest, like he didn’t have a single spark of brainpower left, that the whole world was reduced to her mouth on him.
He couldn’t do it… It was too much. Then Sage took him inside her mouth, and his brain, that teeny tiny organ, shut down completely.
Tyce gripped the counter and tipped his head back, thinking that if he watched her, he’d lose it completely. His chest heaved and beads of sweat popped on his skin. This, Sage, being loved by her, was all his fantasies and wishes and hopes and dreams coming true.
Oh, it wasn’t just about the sex—which was terrifyingly fantastic—but all of this. She was in his studio and she’d said everything he most needed to hear about his art, had placed his past actions into perspective, had opened up a new world to him. He wanted this, all of it. He wanted her in his life, to be a big part of hers, he wanted to raise their baby together. That much he knew… There would be no thinking about this in the morning.