The shadows in the room were so heavy that Seth couldn’t see much of Tia’s face or body. It was the curves and lines he’d created while painting her that swam through his head as he propped himself above her on the thick Turkish rug covering the hardwood floor and tried to measure everything through touch and sensation alone. He wanted to drink in every detail, to commit her entire body to memory, so that he could make sure he’d accurately captured the essence of her in his work.

At least, that was what he told himself. He wanted to believe this was no different than last night, nothing more than a casual encounter for the sake of comfort and release, with the added benefit of inspiring new work that demonstrated more passion than he’d been able to summon in recent years.

But deep down, he knew tonight was different. It meant more than it should, and that made him feel as though Lois was right—he was betraying Shiloh.

At one point, he almost pulled away from her. He would have, if Tia hadn’t let go of him the second he panicked. He couldn’t see her scars in the dim light as she stared up at him with her arms resting above her head and her hair fanned out on the carpet. But even if he could, he didn’t think it would change his mind. To him, she looked perfect. Her chest was rising and falling fast—they were both breathless—and her lips were still wet since he’d just broken off a kiss. She had every right to ask him why he’d suddenly pulled away, but she didn’t. She didn’t put any pressure on him at all. He could tell she sensed that he was on the verge of bolting, but instead of trying to convince him to stay, she just waited to see what he decided.

Her immediate acceptance that he might have to abandon this encounter unexpectedly made getting up and walking away even harder. He could’ve made himself forego the pleasure. He’d been celibate since Shiloh died. But Tia had something else he craved, something beyond the physical, and he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was. Maybe it was that he understood and could identify, almost too well, with how difficult it was for her to allow someone else to get close to her right now, and that kinship drew him to her.

Whatever it was, instead of withdrawing, he dipped his head to kiss her again. She parted her lips and accepted the kiss, but she didn’t put her arms back around his neck. In his mind, that signaled that he’d spooked her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” she whispered back. “But... I don’t want to continue if you’re not sure you want this.”