Page 79 of The Unlikely Pair
That boarding school really did a number on you.
Because isn’t that the number one lesson I learned at Dentworth? Not to show emotion? Showing emotion was weak. It meant ridicule. It meant punishment. It was something to be avoided at all costs.
“Thank you for that advanced opinion on my psyche. I appreciate it.” My voice is cool.
Toby’s expression suddenly turns contrite.
He reaches out to touch my leg, his hand heavy and warm.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to throw something back at you that you confided in me.”
Emotion swirls inside me as I stare at him, taken aback by the sincerity in his gaze.
“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever apologized to me,” I say slowly.
“I’m sure I’ve apologized on your behalf for your terrible policy ideas,” Toby says with a hint of a smile.
I’m fascinated by the quirk of his lips, the way they curve upward, softening his features and making him look younger.
I’m suddenly hyperaware of every detail of his face—the stubble along his jawline, the freckles dusting his nose, the way his eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks in the flickering firelight.
He pokes his stick in the fire. “It’s normal to express emotions, Harry. It’s a healthy, normal part of being human.” He looks at me, his eyes flickering with the reflected firelight. “And sometimes I just need proof you’re not an emotionless cyborg.”
And I can’t resist any longer. I lean forward and kiss him.
It’s a different kiss than the ones from earlier today. It’s softer, sweeter.
I’ve taken him by surprise, and it takes a second for him to kiss me back. But then he does, and our kiss deepens. A rush of heat spreads through my body, igniting in my veins. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing against my stubble, and I lean into his touch.
It’s a kiss that feels like a conversation without words.
I pull back slowly. “Would a robot do that?” I ask. My voice sounds like it’s been dragged through gravel.
Toby’s fingers have come up to touch his lips. His eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement as he meets my gaze directly. “I don’t know. I haven’t actually trialed any of those sex robots. But you might be able to tell me from your own experience.”
I can’t help but laugh at this infuriating, intoxicating man.
But I don’t have time to dwell on that before he’s the one closing the distance between us and we’re kissing again.
Chapter Twenty-One
Toby
Harry and I are kissing. Again. I don’t like to give the Conservatives credit for anything, but it appears they really know how to kiss. It must be something to do with the fact their tongues get so much exercise twisting words all the time, which makes them extremely dexterous for kissing.
It’s a we’ve-almost-made-it-through-the-night, we-weren’t-eaten-by-wolves-or-killed-by-terrorists kiss.
And hey, people may judge our methods of celebration, but the point is, they are not here right now.
Who’s here right now is Harry, with his kissable lips. Harry, who tonight shared a vulnerable side of himself.
Harry is morphing from the caricature of him I’ve always had of an infuriatingly unflappable, pompous arsehole into a real, multifaceted man.
Is that what makes me want to kiss him? To mesh our mouths together, to have our tongues sliding against each other.
Or am I simply looking for a human connection, and Harry is the only option?
This kiss starts off slow and gentle like our previous one but quickly ramps up to fast and frenetic, like kissing has just been invented and we need to do it lots before it goes out of fashion.
