Page 10 of In Love With the Leshy

“Funny that you should mention Heaven. I heard my father’s voice, which proves I’m crazy.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

I roll my eyes. “My father’s dead, but I . . . I swear I felt him with me, and my nerves calmed. Settled.” I close my eyes and wrap my arms around my chest, hugging myself as I relive the memory of hearing his voice for the first time in three years.

“When exactly did you feel him?”

“I think the first time was when the tree attacked Max. That wuss sounded like a little girl begging Nikolai not to leave him.” I offer a hint of a smile. “Last I saw, he got buried in the falling leaves.”

My imaginary friend smiles, and his eyes crinkle as his head tilts to the side. “Who knows? Maybe a heavy branch fell on his head.” He says, matter of fact. “Bet he wasn’t expecting that.”

“Bet he wasn’t.” With the exception of the Venus flytrap, no one expects plants to attack them.

“He won’t find his way out of the winding vines and the mountain of leaves covering him for some time.” He smiles. His face is impossibly close to mine.

“What are you?” I whisper, resting my hands on his broad chest, contemplating the possibility that he may be real. His large muscles are visible under the cotton shirt pulling across his chest, but feeling how cut and defined they are takes me by surprise. What’s worse is I’m not sure why I’m touching him. It’s unlike me to be this forward with a man I just met.

“You know what I am.” He whispers.

I shake my head. “I do. You’re a hallucination. But you seem so real.” I try accepting the two competing thoughts as one.

“How can I make you believe?”

I shake my head again. “You can’t—”

Before I say another word, he leans in, grips my chin between his thumb and pointer finger, and brushes his warm lips against mine, stealing my breath and leaving me dizzy.

“Oh.” I moan.

“The answer is yes, then?” He asks with a playful smirk.

“What was the question?” My brain gave way to my hormones and is currently napping. I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“You do like Jason Momoa.”

“Oh, that,” I answer, hypnotized by his minty breath and enchanting eyes. “I think . . . I think I like you more.”

“Good, because I like you too. And I don’t want to have to torture and destroy a man who has never wronged me.”

He cups my face and, dipping down, his lips meet mine for another tender kiss. I respond to his affection. Our lips move together in slow harmony, not taking it to the next level. It stays sweet, and my heart swells. Unable to help myself, I grip his T-shirt and pull him against my body.

The kiss, the man, they are too perfect. I’m even more convinced he’s an apparition, but if my subconscious thinks I need this, I might as well go with it and enjoy. My eyes close, and I give myself over to the fireworks exploding inside me.

Chapter 6

“You really live here?” I ask, grimacing as I take a step further from the road and the promise of escape.

“Yes.” He answers, stopping. “You know, this would be easier if I carried you.”

“I can walk,” I insist, taking another step. “Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!” My ankle rolls. I wobble and grab onto his arm to stabilize myself and stop from falling to the ground. My hand stays on his sinewy forearm, getting a feel of how solid and thick it is. Wow. He’s all muscle.

“I’m done asking.”

“Ow.” I gasp as he leans down and sweeps me into his arms. I want to yell and protest. Who does he think he is to use his brute strength on me? The thought crosses my mind like a flash of lightning, but instead of causing me to yell and scream as loud as thunder clapping, I feel a foreign yearning inside me. Without thinking, I clasp my hands behind his neck and stare at his beautiful face.

His thick hair is made of soft fronds. I think he’s about to say something as our eyes lock, but nothing comes out of his open mouth. Instead, he stares back at me in silence. I’m struck by how different his eyes look and wonder if the lack of daylight has an effect on the color or if I’m imagining it. They’re a glittery gold color now, and shimmer like sparkles are scattered through his irises. The heat in his eyes burns through me, making my heart beat faster and engraving his image on it. No one has ever looked at me like this.

“Why are you so nervous?” He asks, cradling me against his chest. “Your heart pounds faster than a rabbit running from a wolf?”

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