Page 117 of The Unlikely Pair
“Are you all right? Do you want me to stop?” I ask.
He opens his eyes, gazing at me with a soft, dreamy expression I never imagined I’d see on Toby’s face. “No, keep going,” he murmurs, reaching to caress my cheek. “You need to come for me, Harry.”
His words seem to have a galvanizing effect because I only manage a few more thrusts before I obey him, filling him deep inside, my face buried in his neck.
When I come back into my body, I pull back enough to see his face.
And he smiles.
It’s not the usual smirk he gives me.
It’s his we’ve-just-made-fire, we’ve-just-caught-a-fish, we’ve-just-found-a-cabin smile. It’s Toby’s genuine, real smile, the one with dimples, the one that is so full of true happiness it looks like it could ignite.
He’s aiming it straight at me for the first time.
And I know right then, with more certainty than I know my own name, that there is no going back from this.
Chapter Thirty-One
Toby
Mist rises off the lake. The weather is getting colder, the days shorter.
I stand at the foreshore of the lake, my arms wrapped around myself.
Memories of my mother assault me. Her kind smile. The way she used to sing to me when I was sick, nonsense songs she made up on the spot. How she’d make mundane tasks fun, like turning grocery shopping into a treasure hunt.
I hear footsteps on the pebbles behind me.
I don’t turn around.
Harry’s arms slip around me. His scent takes me back to last night. Harry holding me is so familiar now that I close my eyes.
“Are you all right?” He whispers, a tentative note in his voice.
I swallow hard, turning around in his arms to see his face. “Yes. I’m all right.”
Harry’s forehead is puckered with concern as he gazes down at me.
I know his face so well now. I know every line and curve of his jawline. I know the rasp of his beard against my skin. I know the particular scent of his skin when I press my nose into the join between his shoulder and neck.
This is not just two men getting off together because of necessity. There’s no way I can pretend any longer that this is just sex. We both know it. It was spelt out in every touch between us last night.
At some point, I’ve got to face up to the fact I’ve caught feelings for Harry Matheson.
I was definitely in my live-for-the-moment mentality last night. And it’s been so easy to use that philosophy to dodge examining what Harry and I are to each other.
But after last night, after the most intimate sex I’ve ever had, I can evade it no longer. It’s a monster staring me in the fucking face. An elephant that’s grown so large there simply isn’t any space for me to coexist with it anymore.
I can’t explain the inner turmoil I’m feeling right now. Because that would mean having a conversation with Harry about things I really, really don’t want to talk about.
“Shall we go and check the snares?” Harry asks.
“Sure.”
He reaches out for my hand, and I take it. And I don’t protest when he entwines our gloved fingers together.
Harry and I walk hand-in-hand.
