Even if John didn't want this baby, Olivia couldn't bring herself to give it up. She loved this child—it was a part of her. Letting go wasn't an option. Clinging to her last shred of hope, she pleaded, "John, didn't you say you loved me?"
Her voice softened, sweet and seductive. She took his hand, slowly guiding it over her face, her neck, her body. She could feel his resolve weakening, his body beginning to respond.
"John, you've always said I inspire you," she whispered. "This child will bring you even more inspiration. Think about it—how can you give that up? How can you turn your back on the muse behind your greatest work?"
John's breathing grew heavier as he tried to suppress the desire rising within him. Deep down, he knew how much inspiration meant to him. Without it, his paintin
