Page 54 of The Painter and His Poet

“Sterling, this isn’t a good idea,” I warn, my whole body stiffening from his touch, not because I don’t want him this close to me, but because Ido. “Let me go.”

“I don’t fucking want to, Harlow,” he replies, his breath sliding over my skin as he drops his forehead to my shoulder. “I’ve tried to give you space. I’ve fucking tried.”

I’m not sure that makes me feel any better.

My pulse spikes at his close proximity, at the way he grips the side of the pool with one hand and presses me against the tiles, effectively trapping me. I should force him away. I should tell him to back off. But again, just like in Dalton’s office, I do neither of those things.

“Someone will see,” I say, more than a little breathlessly to be honest.

“I’ve given the staff a night off. We’re the only ones here, Harlow,” he counters, easing back just enough so that I can turn in his arms.

“Which is another reason why this is dangerous,” I add, forcing myself to meet his gaze as the water laps gently around us both.

His eyes shine brightly, the silver striations within them sparkling under the pool light. Water droplets trickle from his hairline, snaking their way down the sharp cut of his cheekbones.

He’s so beautiful.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, reaching up to push a strand of wet hair off my face.

“Sterling…” My voice trails off as he presses his body against mine.

“When I told you this wasn’t over, Harlow, I meant it.”

“But I did,” I lie, forcing strength into my voice.

“You don’t mean that. I know you don’t.”

“Please don’t do this. I can’t–”

I don’t get to finish my sentence because he slams his mouth against mine, kissing me roughly. And for just the briefest of moments I allow myself to receive his kiss, to absorb what it feels like to have his body pressed so tightly against mine, his cock hard against my stomach.

But despite how good it feels, common sense prevails and I find the strength to push him away.

“No,” I say firmly.

“No?” he questions, looking at me with a mixture of shock, disappointment, and worse,pain.

“Harlow–” he adds, bridging the gap between us, crowding me once more.

“I said no, and I meant it, Sterling. I don’t want this,” I cut him off, forcing strength into my voice as I meet his gaze, hoping to God he doesn’t see the truth in my eyes.

“I don’t believe you,” he persists, and I have to force myself to remain strong in my convictions, because if I let him get under my skin one more time, I’m lost.

“I love my mother. I like your father. I don’t want to ruin their relationship or mine with them for that matter, by pursuing something with you. I won’t be that person, Sterling.”

“But you’ll keep letting your mother ruinyourhappiness?” he counters, shaking his head in disbelief.

“She’s my mom, Sterling,” I protest, knowing full well that if the shoe were on the other foot my mother would have no issue being selfish and hurting me. But I’m not like her, I can’t be responsible for her unhappiness. I’m still hopeful that one day we’ll get back to the relationship we had when I was a kid, because I miss that version of her so, so much.

Sterling shakes his head, lifting his palm to cup my cheek. “Yes, she is, and if she gave a shit about you she’dwantyour happiness.”

“How could she ever be comfortable with us being together? Regardless of her past behaviour towards me, this is still wrong.”

“So you’ll give up any chance of happiness to appease your mother? That’s no way to live, Harlow,” he persists, caressing my skin with the pad of his thumb.

“It’smychoice. This can’t happen,” I reply, fighting the urge to lean my face in his palm, and accept his affection.

“Don’t do this, Harlow. Don’t walk back into my life, give me hope, and then shatter it all in one fucking week.”

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