With Brave Wings (8 page)

He eyed the clock on his laptop. "Good afternoon, sleepyhead."

"Don’t sound so chipper. I might resort to violence." She licked her fingers once she'd finished the waffle, then straightened the duvet and propped her head on a pillow. Her phone, which she'd hidden only God knew where, ended up between them. "What'cha doing?"

He closed the lid of his laptop and rubbed his eyes. They were tired, and he hoped a headache wouldn’t settle in. "Just finished some work, and I was reading an article on digital enhancement. Did you sleep well?"

She nodded. "To make up for the night before, I guess." With a sigh, she picked up her phone, the screen lighting up. "Let me know if you want privacy. All I have to do today is go through something Sage has written for me."

It surprised Tennyson that her publicist was going that route. "You're going to publish a statement about the restaurant incident?" In his experience, going public with comments rarely calmed down the media. If anything, it riled them up.

"Not so much a statement as an article." Sophie quirked a wry smile. "What's Sage known for?"

He didn’t know where she was going with this, but he answered anyway. "Being ruthless? Unforgiving? Cunning?"

Sage Hart was practically a brand. Sophie was lucky to have her as a publicist. She'd been in the industry some thirty years, and she chopped off balls for a living using her words and connections.

"I was going for merciless, but those words work, too." Sophie laughed softly. "Anyway, she's setting up a phone interview for me with
Variety
. The reporter will mainly ask about
Barcelona Quarter
, but there will be a few personal questions as well. When all is said and done, there'll be a thinly veiled fuck-you to those who can't respect the privacy of someone who is pregnant."

"Ouch," Tennyson chuckled. "Playing the pregnancy card will hit home with America, at least. Good for you." He tugged gently on a strand of her dark hair. "I know you prefer to handle this on your own, but you know I'm happy to help, right?" He had half a mind to silence people permanently whenever Sophie got unwanted media attention, but in their line of work, it was impossible.

"I know." She sent him a smile before refocusing on the screen. "I gotta do this Miss Independence style, though."

He was very aware. That was one of the things he'd learned prior to leaving for Texas. A new side of Sophie Pierce, one that was all about "I can do it myself." It was both admirable and frustrating. Mostly admirable, but it wasn’t always easy because he was so fucking protective of her.

Not being able to fix the wrongs and ease the troubles for her didn’t sit well with him, and it was a double-edged sword. On the one hand, he got to watch her bravery and her growth. On the other, he felt helpless.

Placing his laptop on the nightstand, he grabbed his phone and got comfortable, adjusting the two pillows behind him. He'd been thinking about buying a new car that was more suitable for children, so he might as well check online.

Speaking of the internet… "Did you really look for gossip the other night?" She'd been so good at staying away from that. Something about Brooklyn and Noah being her filters.

Sophie hummed, typing on her phone. "A little," she admitted. "I couldn’t help myself. Thankfully, Daniel stopped me after, like, five minutes."

Silly girl. She needed to learn there would always be people who had nothing better to do than put others down.

"What did you see?" He brought up Google on his phone and started his search for what would be his first minivan. He'd never seen that coming, but he had to say it was fun.

It was also a decent distraction when it would be so easy to focus on the fact that he had a sinfully gorgeous girl in his bed. Regardless of how relieved he was to be close to her without awkwardness, he was still a red-blooded male.

"The party princess is back," she fake cheered. "
Sources
say I've missed my old life, that I regret becoming pregnant, and that I plan on hiring a nanny as soon as the baby's born so I can go out more." She sighed and scooted closer, to which Tennyson lifted his arm so she could rest on his chest.

"I'm sorry." He kissed the top of her head and frowned. "One might think the paparazzi would spin some of it in the other direction."

"You mean blaming Cassandra?" she asked, and he nodded. "Oh, they did. The majority, actually. Cass is now the scandalous diva who almost assaulted her pregnant childhood friend. Funny thing about the media, they can blame everyone."

Tennyson
hmphed
, only marginally satisfied that Sophie's former friend had taken some of the heat, too. In his opinion, it should all fall on this Cassandra.

"Was your father mentioned?" It irritated him to no end how Peter had treated Sophie over the years.

She shrugged slightly. "Not really. We were still inside then, so I guess most people don’t know he was there. I just wanna forget the whole thing ever happened. Fucking party princess…"

Tennyson had a feeling that was easier said than done, but he could tell she was done talking about it now, so he didn’t press for more. Instead, he chose to focus on the next few days. He'd make sure she knew she could always turn to him for anything, be it comfort, privacy, or just a place to regroup.

"You can be my princess instead."

"Beats the diva kind." She grinned up at him.

He noticed that she'd finished writing back to her publicist, and now she was reading on her phone. In turn, Tennyson reverted his attention to the car search, and he browsed through articles about the safest vehicles in today's market.

As it turned out, minivans were incredibly boring. How could they even be described as safe? If a Navigator rammed into a minivan, everyone knew which vehicle would end up without a scratch. So it was no wonder he left the minivans behind for SUVs. He'd always prefer his vintage Impala, but when he drove around with his son in LA, he wanted a goddamn tank.

"Difficult to get comfortable?" he murmured, noticing Sophie was squirming. "I can get you another one of those pregnancy pillows if you want." He knew she had one at home; it helped her to find a good position to sleep in.

"No, it's fine." She squirmed a bit more then tried to lay still. "You're my pregnancy pillow. Although, the one at home is softer."

He snorted quietly. "Thank you. I think." He wasn’t quite sure if there was a compliment there.

"Mmhmm." There was some more squirming while she flipped a page on whatever she was reading. "You've gotten all ripped while I got flappy."

Flappy?

Was that even a word? He couldn’t help but laugh. "You're pregnant, Sophie. Not…whatever you said."

He'd been unable to resist her at her weakest. Now when she was carrying his child and growing stronger with each day…? Whole other circle of hell. Torturous at times.
But
when push came to shove, he wanted to be on the sidelines and watch Sophie's personal journey.

He had to remember that.

Really…

"Okay, this book had such potential, but
ugh
." She shut her phone and dropped it behind her. "I question Brooklyn's taste sometimes."

Tennyson scrolled through a list of SUVs and paused when he got to an Escalade. "What're you reading?" He did like Escalades. It would certainly be safe.

"Some novel Brooklyn sent me." Sophie rolled onto her back. "She said it had the hottest sex scenes, but the dirty talk makes me cringe. Too cheesy."

Well, that was…not what Tennyson had expected to hear. "You're reading mommy porn?"

She gave his chest a light whack. "It's
erotica
."

Sure, sure. It didn’t matter what it was called. What made him curious was that she had come into
his
bedroom,
his
bed, lay down in
his
arms—and read fiction with sex scenes.

He didn’t point that out, though. Instead, he went another route—against his better judgment. "What's wrong with dirty talk? You love that."

Actually, Sophie liked it downright filthy sometimes, and it was something Tennyson used for his morning showers every now and then. Back when they were sleeping together, she'd coaxed out a new side of him. One that was possessive, rough, and commanding.

"But the characters just met!" she argued. "How can the guy possibly know which words trigger the girl? I swear, she comes in two seconds flat." She rolled her eyes, only to narrow them a beat later. "How did
you
get it right so fast? You talked dirty to me the first time we had sex."

All right, perhaps this wasn’t such a brilliant idea, after all. Sex was never a safe topic around Sophie. "My goal wasn’t to turn you on with what I said." He placed his phone on the nightstand. "I was ticked off." Scooting farther down, he lay on his side and propped himself up on one elbow. "I was angry with myself for caving, for not being able to stay away, and I took it out on you. I wanted to intimidate you."

The opposite had happened, and he'd been a fool for thinking he even could intimidate Sophie. Tennyson had had a few wild years after he'd finished his undergrad, but he'd been a relationship guy ever since, and Sophie probably had more experience than he did. Whether it was good or bad experience was another matter, but the girl didn’t shy away easily.

"But you didn’t." She bit her lip and mirrored him, pushing herself up slightly with her elbow. "And you continued."

Tennyson hummed and watched her, warring with himself. There was a direction he wanted to take…and one he should. They weren't the same.

"Once I crawled into your imagination, it was pretty difficult to stop."

It was difficult now, too. He was only wearing a pair of sweats with his T-shirt, so if this went any further, he wouldn't be able to conceal his arousal.

"Is that what you did? Crawled into my imagination?"

"You know I did." He smiled faintly. "How else would I have made you beg so much? I learned exactly which words made your breath hitch."

Sophie flushed and lowered her gaze. She got stuck for a moment at the sight of his inked arm, but she didn’t comment on it. Just like she hadn't the first time she'd seen the tattoo a few weeks ago.

"That fucking mouth of yours…" She blew out a breath and fell back against the mattress, and she stared blankly up at the ceiling. "Tennyson…I have stupid horny hormones."

A surge of lust tore through him, and he groaned internally as his cock grew thicker and harder inside his sweatpants.

He'd forgotten how blunt she could be.

"Should we really continue this conversation, sweetie?" Fuck, he wanted to, but he felt he had to remind her of their situation. "I don’t want things to get weird between us, and there's only so much I can take before I stop thinking with the head on my shoulders."

Sophie let out a huff and a whine and moved close to bury her face against his sternum. Like that was helpful? Christ, he was trying to be a gentleman.

"I don’t want things to get weird, either." Refusing to look up, she fiddled with the hem of his T-shirt. "But we're both adults, right?"

She was killing him.

"I suppose." He dropped his mouth to the top of her head and lingered, breathing her in. His free hand went to her hip, though the thick duvet was in the way.

She inched even closer. "Do, um… Do you ever…you know…think about me? When you're alone?"

Too often.

He closed his eyes and tried to get his body under control, but he was completely and utterly fucked. There was no control—not with her. In Vancouver, yeah, he'd made her beg over and over. But he'd been just as desperate for her.

The passion they'd shared was unforgettable.

"You mean when I get off?" he gritted out huskily, and she nodded against him. He released a breath through clenched teeth. "Yeah, Sophie. I think of you. Of us."

Her quiet whimper was the last straw. With a gentle tug on her hair, her face came into view, and he was able to capture her mouth with his. He kissed her hard and pushed away the duvet that had covered her. Then he rolled on top of her and slid a hand underneath the fabric of her top. Her baby bump was smooth and rounded beneath his palm, and just thinking about the life they'd created made him harder than diamond.

"Clothes off and leave Miss Independence at the door," he told her, out of breath. "You're mine to play with until we're done. We clear, princess?"

He could sit by and be a spectator in her everyday life, but if she came to his bed, his rules applied.

"God, yes." Sophie shimmied out of her pajama shorts. "Can you be, like, supercommanding? And kinky?"

That gave him a pause, and he raised a brow at her.

Pink splashed across her lovely cheeks. "Don’t look at me like that," she complained. "I've read way too many romance novels lately. Do you know how hard it is to be pregnant and not have anyone to get wild with? Duracell should give me a fucking discount. But you know what I like." Her voice took on a seductive note as she pulled up the hem of his T-shirt. "Please? I just wanna be completely owned for a bit."