Page 116 of The Unlikely Pair
“Yes, I’m sure.” His voice is a whisper as he leans over to retrieve the Vaseline that now lives beside our bed.
My fingers tremble as I prep him, and Toby can read me so well.
“It doesn’t have to be perfect, Harry,” he whispers.
It’s already perfect because it’s with you.
But I can’t add those words between us now. It’s already too intense. Toby watches me as I continue to loosen him.
It’s intense the way our breaths hitch as I position myself on top of him, aligning our bodies perfectly. I put my hand on Toby’s heart, feeling the fluttering through his warm skin.
When I push inside him, Toby closes his eyes like he can’t bear to look at me.
I lurch forward so I can place a kiss on his lips. Such a different kind of kiss than the ones we usually exchange.
It’s gentle. Kind. Sweet. Suffused with my feelings for him.
His eyes fly open.
This level of eye contact as I move inside him feels more dangerous than being shot at. The same look of wonder I’ve already seen on his face tonight is now directed towards me.
I can’t stop kissing him.
I kiss his cheek. I lift his hand so I can kiss his palm. I kiss his eyelids. I kiss down his jaw. I kiss his throat at the point where his pulse thrums.
Toby said a few weeks ago that there is nowhere to hide out here. There’s definitely nowhere to hide in this bed.
Toby matches me with every gentle touch and stroke. Our touches set fire to skin and then soothe, making the moment scorching and tender. Toby’s breath hitches with every kiss, his body responding to every caress with a shiver.
Moving inside him is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. His body arches to meet mine, our skin melding together as one. Sweat glistens between our bodies, mingling with the salty taste of our kisses.
And I’m crooning in his ear, disjointed words that make no sense as I lose myself in the feel of him, his body yielding to mine with a familiarity that feels both new and ancient.
Toby moans softly, his hands gripping my back, pulling me closer. I lean down to kiss him again, our lips meeting, our tongues dancing.
Nothing else exists except this bed, the sound of our ragged breaths, and the thumping of our hearts.
This is not our usual “race you to the finish line” sex.
This is different. Intense. Passionate. Much more intimate.
Unbelievably raw.
Toby’s argument that sex is a necessity finally makes sense to me. Because it feels like there is nothing more fundamental than this right now. I could survive without food, water, or shelter, but not without this.
We’re connected in a way I’ve never known before. I can feel his warmth everywhere, every quiver of his body under me, every beat of his heart. I wedge a hand between us and shift my weight so I can stroke him at the same rhythm I’m moving inside him.
His eyes are caught on mine, and seem to mirror my emotions.
And I want more.
But at the same time, I don’t want it to end.
Every touch, every kiss, every breath we share feels precious. Perfect. Right.
Toby tips over the edge first. I feel it coming, the stutter in his breath, the line that creases his forehead, and I slow my pace because I want to drink in this sight. I’ll never get sick of Toby Webley’s face blissed out with pleasure.
Toby’s eyes flutter closed.
