Page 118 of The Painter and His Poet

“This is where I belong, Harlow, buried deep inside of you,” I mutter against her lips, revelling in the feeling of her internal walls tightening around my cock.

“I love you,” she whispers back.

“Say it again,” I demand roughly, pleasure racing down my spine with every rock of my hips.

“I love you,” she exclaims, smiling up at me.

“And I love you,” I reply, then with one final thrust I come, Harlow following shortly after.

THIRTY-THREE

HARLOW

Isn’t it funny how time seems to both move in slow motion, yet passes through your fingers like sand? One minute, you’re holding on to every second, trying to make them last, and the next thing you know, they've slipped away. Hours can feel like an eternity, but days pass by in the blink of an eye. Maybe it's this fleeting quality of time that makes each moment between Sterling and I all the more precious. But I crave more than fleeting moments. I want every minute, every hour, every day with him, forever more.

Yet still we hide our love.

“What are you thinking about?” Sterling asks me as we steal another precious few hours with each other, just like we have every single day this past month. Sometimes we take a walk together in the woods surrounding Adaga Hall, the huge pinewood trees hiding us from sight. Other times we meet at his studio, situated a mile from the main building. The first time I entered I was overcome by his talent, the paintings of me utterly stunning, and somehow capturing the parts of me I thought I’d kept hidden.

Tonight, our parents are out of town, and we’re using the opportunity to invite his friends over for dinner. It’s the firsttime we’ve all got together since Daisy’s and Dalton’s wedding day. According to Sterling, the tragedy of Daisy’s miscarriage has put a strain on their relationship, and Dalton is desperate to fix things. He’s hoping that being around people who care about her will help.

“Us,” I reply, a note of sadness in my voice as I set the final dinner plate onto the table. “I want to be free to love you, Sterling. I don’t want to hide anymore.”

He rounds the table, pulling me into his arms, and I sink into them, my cheek pressed against his shoulder as he holds me. “We are so close to having that, Harlow. Please, bear with me.”

“It’s so hard though…” My voice trails off as I heave out a sigh.

“I know, but we are one step closer to finding out who your stalker is, and once I know that you’re safe, and that bastard is dealt with once and for all, we’ll tell our parents together. One thing at a time, okay?”

“Have there been any more messages?” I ask, drawing back slightly to look up at him.

Ever since I revealed what’s been happening, Sterling has taken over my account. We both agreed that the only way to draw this man out of hiding was to pretend I welcomed his attention. I couldn’t bear to respond to my stalker, so Sterling has been acting as if he’s me. For weeks he’s been pretending that I’m slowly ‘coming around,’ and though it makes me sick to my stomach, it’s the only way we can lure him out.

“Yes, several,” he replies, pulling out his phone and clicking on the app, showing the messages to me.

I read over the last few, wincing at the one where I claim to have missed him messaging me after a week of silence. Bile rises up in my throat, hating that Sterling is having to do this on my behalf.

“You think he’s buying it?” I ask, chewing on my lip as I lift my gaze from the screen.

“I believe so,” he murmurs, pointing to the latest message. I read it.

My sweet songbird, there are a few things I need to finalise before we can finally be together. Once I have, I will claim you as mine. Be patient, my love.

A shiver tracks down my spine. “What do you think he’s talking about exactly?” I ask.

“I have my suspicions,” Sterling replies, cryptically.

“Do you want to share those with me?”

Chewing on his lip, Sterling regards me for a moment before nodding. “Do you remember at the wedding when I told you about how Benedict is going to make his move on Elodie?”

“Yes,” I reply, my brows pinching together as I wonder where this is going.

“Ben has in fact offered two million pounds to Hoxton to spend a month alone with Elodie. He plans on using the time to steal her back from him.”

“What on earth, Sterling? You can’t just buy people!” I exclaim, shocked that Ben would even consider doing something so outrageous. It’s one thing to try and win her back, quite another tobuyher back.

“I know that, and believe me when I tell you that Ben is doing this with good intentions. He loves Elodie, he always has.”

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