Page 9 of Oracles Always Win

Although, truthfully,Ididn’t have problems getting attention.Itwas all the stuff that came afterward that made things go sideways.Iturned away from the mirror.Thistime was going to be different.Ihad a goal.Thatgoalwouldbe met.

Istraightened my shoulders and marched out of my room, determined to conquer the day.

Assoon asIstepped into the hallway and shut the door behind me, a noise drew my attention to the end of the hall.Iexpected it to bePaws.Thecat was the only one other than me who should be in the building right now.

Exceptit wasn’tPaws.

Itwas a man, but not just any man.

“Ohno,”Iwhispered.Myhand flew up to cover my mouth.Mylife was never easy or simple.

Iblinked.ThenIblinked again.Butno matter how many timesIopened and closed my eyes, the stranger’s face stayed the same.

“HolyMichelangelo.”

Myhands grew sweatier.Myheart pounded in my chest like a percussion band on fast forward, because his face was the spitting image of the man in the paintings under my bed.Rightdown to the…Iswallowed and stared at the man's head…Horns.

Hehadhorns.

Justlike in the painting.

Twocharcoal-colored horns protruded from his short midnight black hair and curled back over his head.Itried not to stare at them as the man paused and waited for my reaction to his presence.

Howconsiderate of my hallucination.

Mybrain was knocking this one out of the park, what with the man’s stunningly handsome face and his broad, deliciously masculine body.Itwas easy to imagine a six-pack under that black dress shirt.Maybeeven an eight-pack.

ButIguessed that made sense.Hewas a fantasy—albeit a very vivid, picture-of-perfection, life-sized fantasy—of the man my psyche liked to paint.Iblinked yet again, hoping to shake off the vision.

Nope.Nochange.Hewas still there.Allof him.Includingthehorns…

Whyon earth had my brain given him horns?

"Hello," the man said.Eventhe imaginary guy’s voice was delicious, deep, and melodious.

I, on the other hand, squeaked out a high-pitched “hey.”Thankfully, this was all just a figment of my imagination.Otherwise,I’dbe horribly embarrassed.

Theman's mouth kicked up on one side into a small smile, and my heart pounded even faster.Howfast could it beat beforeIneeded to call an ambulance?

But,Imean, who could blame it?Because, wow…I’dnever seen a more gorgeous man in my life.Ofcourse,I'dstared at that face a lot over the last twelve months.Iknew it very, very well… right down to the shape of that dimple in his cheek.

Hewas my mystery guy.

He’deven become my wet dream fantasy because of course he had invaded my dreams too—once, twice, a hundred times.Eversince he had shown up on my very first, weird black-and-white painting, his image had always been there with me.Ihad never been able to paint over a single image of the man, soIhad every single oneI’dever created.

Hornsapparently weren't much of a deterrent to my libido.

Hishair was just as black asI'dpainted it.Hisdark eyes had the same twinkle.Hisdimple—his freakingdimple—teased me when he smiled.AllIwanted to do was dip my tongue in the cute little indent on this handsome but dangerous-looking man, which struck me as both horribly unhygienic and tantalizing.

“Thisis wrong, so very, very wrong,”Imumbled, even asIstepped closer to examine what my brain had conjured.Imean,Iknew my imagination was good.Iwas an artist, trained to have an eye for detail, but this...Thiswas above and beyond.

Actually…

Ifthis was a fantasy, maybeIshould just enjoy it.

Idrew my tongue over my top lip and let my gaze drift down the imaginary man’s body.Yes.Ijust needed to embrace this dream or mirage or whatever it was.IfIwas going crazy,Imight as well enjoy myself, right?

“Sorry,” the man said as he approached. “Ididn’t mean to startle you…”