Page 48 of The Unlikely Pair

Chapter Thirteen

Toby

My idea is simple.

We need to look like we’ve drowned in the waterfall. And for that, we need realistic-looking Toby and Harry dummies.

We’re sacrificing clothing at a time when clothing is a scarce resource, but I can’t see any other option.

I’m glad to have an idea. I hate feeling indebted to Harry, but that’s exactly what I am right now. I would have never made it out of that river alive if it weren’t for him. I don’t want to dwell on how close I just came to dying.

I also want to distract myself from whatever the hell just happened between us.

It’s the most intimate thing I’ve ever done, huddling naked next to someone for a reason other than sex. But when you’re trying to stop yourself from dying of hypothermia, you don’t stop to think about anything but the logistics. Stripping off my wet clothes and huddling close to Harry’s naked body was a practical solution to the problem. I would have huddled close to a king python if it meant getting warmer.

It was only when we’d both warmed that things started to get weird.

I’m fairly certain I saw a flare of heat in his eyes when he looked at my lips.

But what is even more disturbing is the corresponding twitch I felt in my groin.

Was it just my dick’s Pavlovian response to someone looking at me like that? Because, normally, when someone regards me with that expression, I’m about to get lucky.

Although there is a chance I’m delusional and hallucinating. That extreme fear and cold mean my brain is playing tricks on me.

The idea Harry Matheson wants me is one I need time to process, ideally when I’m not still naked under a survival blanket with him.

“We need to keep our warmest clothes, so I’m thinking we sacrifice our shirts,” Harry says because even though it’s my idea, he’s still trying to take charge.

He’s right though. Our shirts are the most obvious piece of clothing we can live without. They provide the least amount of warmth compared to Harry’s suit jacket and coat and my blazer and jacket.

“What about trousers? We can’t sacrifice those.”

“It will have to be our underwear. We can survive without underwear.”

Even though I’m currently sitting next to Harry minus underwear, the thought of permanently losing my underwear makes me squirm. I don’t want to show this to Harry though. If he can be matter-of-fact and practical, so can I.

“Looks like commando is going to be our mojo going forward,” I say.

Harry shuffles forward to reach the survival kit.

I feel the loss of his warmth from inside the blanket immediately. And I try not to let my eyes linger on the smooth lines of his back or notice the way his body tapers to his waist.But it’s impossible when his body is right there in front of me. His smooth, pale skin reminds me of a classical sculpture made of marble.

The Wanker Conservative Leader doesn’t have quite the same ring to it as The Thinker though.

Harry seems to become aware of his exposed skin and a frown takes over his face.

He tugs on the survival blanket from the ground beneath me.

“We’re probably warm enough for our own blankets now,” he says.

I obligingly move so Harry can whip the blanket from under me and wrap it around himself.

“Separate blankets, huh? I guess this means our torrid affair is over before it even began.” I heave a dramatic sigh.

Harry stiffens. “We need to concentrate on making these dummies.”

“I don’t know, Harry. It’s going to be hard to make a dummy to fully encapsulate all your winning personality traits,” I say.