Page 129 of Hostile Love
“Good luck? Was he trying to be funny?” I mumble next to Matheus’ ear, unimpressed. “We don’t have any weapons.”
My arms circle his waist, and my damp cleavage is plastered against the back of his shirt.
Although the temperature is warm, the humidity is clammy and uncomfortable. I have sweat gathering everywhere.
“We’re not exactly dressed for a jungle expedition.” I continue. “Whoever planned this trip needs a bullet in the dick. Where’s the insect repellent and nets to keep out reptiles?”
“Everything we need was sent ahead,” Matheus explains.
“Are we staying in one of those flimsy canvas tents where slinky little reptiles hide in your clothes?”
When Matheus laughs, I feel it rumble through me. “Are you scared of lizards, little firecracker?”
“Of course not,” I lie. “I’m not a fan of bugs that lay eggs in my hair or creepy-crawlies that climb all over my face while I’m sleeping.”
“Who said I’m going to let you sleep?” he jokes.
I have no problem with sleep deprivation whatsoever if he’s the one doing the depriving. The shiver that thought gives me rattles my bones.
The path ahead is hazy under our headlights as scattered low energy solar lamps guide us deeper.
Matheus opens the throttle, and the quad bike hurtles over rough terrain. He expertly navigates the dirt track and shouts for me to duck under low hanging vines.
After what feels like a few minutes, we pull up in a clearing that somehow glows as if the sun is shining at night.
I look up and blink wildly. Hundreds of fairy lights hang in strips from a wooden treehouse built into the trunk of a monster-sized tree.
A thatched roof slants over the top and covers a deck that juts out over the forest. Tiny lanterns perch along the ledge, warming the darkness, and a rope bridge stretches overhead.
Matheus turns off the engine and waits for me to dismount before climbing off. I can’t stop staring up at the treehouse.
It’s so pretty.
I could easily spend the rest of my days here and never face the rest of humanity again.
“What do you think?” Matheus’ voice rumbles over my shoulder and his fingers graze my waist.
“I guess it’ll do,” I joke, bunching the length of my dress in my fists. “Let’s see who gets up top first, yeah?”
“Oh, really…you want to go there?” He cocks a brow. “What do I get when I win?”
“Me,” I giggle, speed walking to a set of rickety steps that scale the fat trunk of a neighboring tree.
They lead to a cool rope bridge with sturdy planks for my feet. Matheus closes in behind me. It wobbles and groans under our combined weight.
If I wasn’t wearing block-heeled sandals, this would be easy, but the thin straps are cutting into my feet, and the stupid heels keep getting wedged between the slats.
“Time out!” I mutter, yanking my foot free for the third time. “I’ll end up breaking my ankle in these god-awful sandals.”
“There’s no time out when you’re being chased by a hitman.”
Locks of dark hair drape his brow and the whites of his eyes glisten under the glow of pretty lights.
He’s discarded his tie and undone the top buttons, but his shirt is still tucked into his tailored suit pants.
He should look out of place in his smart clothes, surrounded by thick branches and trillions of leaves.
To me, he’s constant perfection in any setting.
