Illusive Eden - He Pretends He's the Hero

"Careful!" Rhett's uneasy heart mirroring concern in his eyes, he cautions her, seeing an unlivened Neva, with her huge baby bump, dancing on her steps.

Skittering down the elevated grassland, skipping over gliding rocks surfaced with green algae.

He exhales out a breath—he hadn't undivulged he had gripped. For a smiling Neva slowly squats down, her mellow hand swirls the fresh cold clear water, embracing edges of the plunge pool of a high waterfall.

"Rhett! Hurry here," she sounds out to him.

The fringes of his lips curves up, her pleasant giggles echoing around the soothing, shadowy, serried woods. She would always be ludic—close to the nature.

She loved being bare in the wild abloom, adoring the mother earth.

He trails after her—and places down the bag crammed with mostly Neva's perequisites, on the rise of shrivelled rocks, where weeds, mosses and blooming pink and purple flowers of creeping plox nurture in the spring of cleaves.

"You have to be gentle with your steps Angel." He says, peeling himself off of his pale, heather colored t-shirt.

"Don't worry, I have a good command over my body." Returns Neva, looking up at him. Warmth roses from within—spreading cherry hue on her cheeks.

Her husband's chiseled body: large muscular shoulders, ripped waist, robust chest and his strong burly biceps that Neva so loves, throbbing further diversely her fragile heart.

He glances down at her. The brim of his lips curving out a smirk, her eyes roving over his rock-hard abs, counting the squares, he had eight of them.

"Lusting what you see?"

Neva connects their eyes, "So?" Saying, shy, she gazes away, her body heated up.

He chuckles deep, she was being more valiant, yet still so cute and sheepish. "So, you can do anything you please. I'm all yours." He says. Neva glimpses at his offering hand, laying her own smaller one over his, and he helps her rise to her feet.

"Well, you do take great care of your body." She says, glancing down at her big tummy, "While, I'm just a ball of lazy meat."

He chuckles, she's still gorgeous and hot as ever. Her cute round belly carrying their unborn child, overflowing his heart with tenderness, "You're perfect." He dotingly kisses the cheek of his pouting wife.

She laughs lightly. "You're such a buttercup." She grazes his cheek, pinching it softly. "Oww," he rubs his cheek, "What does a buttercup mean?"

Neva purses her lips, "A flower, it means you're a flirty flower." Saying, she strips herself off of her beige couquette top and maternity shorts, lightly soaked in sweat.

All she's left with is her seductive, lacy white brassiere and underwear.

He tilts his head, torn between retorting about being called a flower, and swooning over her almost bare self.

"I'm diving in!" She exclaims, her body tingling in excitement. She lands her right foot into the cold water, refreshing her leisurely, wholly from the utterly hot day.

He stands there, mesmerized. Neva sways her hips so sensually, a beautiful smile painted over her lips, carefully she floats towards the deeper of the cold, emerald plunge pool. He trails after her—with his black shorts still on.

"You would just be in those two tiny pieces?" He queries, his voice echoing, fading from the intense roaring, trickling sounds of the waterfall.

"I could even be naked! If you're so worried, stay there and have a look out for me." She says, yelling out at him, deeper, closer to the downpour.

She airs away her hair tied in a bun, blooming a flower bud, exhaling, so relieved and tranquiled.

He chuckles at her, "I'm not worried about any stranger. I'm worried about, myself." He declares, caging her in his embrace, her back colliding with his chest, his hands cherishing her smooth and round, heavy eight-month baby bump. She smiles, "You better not play upon your aim."

He laughs, "It's only a month left." He says, stroking her unveiled, heavily pregnant tummy, her belly button cutely poking out. "I know. Where did the time fly away?" She chuckles.

"My heart is filled with glee, this moment feels, so beautiful and surreal." Neva caresses his hands, leaning, melting in his warmth.

She peers before her, the deep rumbling, gurgling, heavy bouncing sound of clear waterfall blessing, applauding the enchanted woods. Dribbles, trickles, tinkles water pouring along the slippery, bumpy, slanted rocks. The surf of ripples in the crest of water was blue and green, alive and breathing. Nature could be so mystical; enchanting souls, enlightening serenity.

The pleasurable soothing shade from the welcoming trees in the burning summer sun of August, music of rustling leaves, sweet singing of harmonious birds, Neva's face gleaming in happiness.

It was almost a flawless miraculous illusory. The easing nostalgic, earthy, musky scent of the woods, dizzying her in blissfulness.

Who would've known, Neva trapped within four dull walls would ever live and love the whispers of heaven in the mortal world.

In ecstasy, she breathes in the scenery; grateful of life. A cool, darling, refreshing breeze swirling, blessing the lovers threaded in a sacred bond.

His large hands slides down the edge of her bump, holding her weight off her big belly—lightening up for her. She breathes out a sigh of calmness, moaning in solace, her head leaning further on his chest.

"Feel better?" He asks, feathering a loving kiss on the side of her lips.

She hums, "I do." Neva peers up at him, threading eyes with his starry, sparkling ones. And, he enamoured in love with her, dives in for her saccharine, blossoming watercolor lips.

Sealing their little while, with everlasting love, one good day, would look back upon.

"I want to swim." She says, removing his arms from around her. She faces him, holding his hands. "We'll submerge in the count of three," He smiles, "Alright."

"One, two, three," his voice tangles with her exhilarated one, inhaling a deep breath, pinching the nose, Neva and Rhett dips in, immersing their all in the refreshing water.

Diving deeper, thrashing around in playfulness, high-spirited. They are alive and one with the nature, engaging in joyful teasings, smooth swims—purifying the souls.

They emerge out of the water, dripping crystal droplets from their wet saturated hair, twinkling from the rays of the sun, within the art agapes of lulling trees hovering over.

Rhett combs his longer hair—fondling his nap, out of his face. Neva splashes water on him, he gasps, taken aback. She laughing turns to swim away. He grins, caging her in between his arms. She squeals, her legs not under her sways.

He sprinkles deep, tickling kisses all over her neck and shoulder, her delighted giggles wafts around the echoes of the serene woodland.

The mother earth, harmonizing with the love they have for each other—showering upon each other.

She favours them the wilderness of clear, dreamy, tranquilizing daylight, drifting white cotton clouds under the miraculous summery August sky.