Page 60 of The Unlikely Pair

Harry scowls. “You don’t trust me to make the best decisions for myself.”

“No. Not on this, I don’t.” I retreat a few steps and plant my feet, squaring my shoulders. “I’m not moving.”

Harry’s nostrils flare. “Why are you being so obstinate?”

I like seeing Harry angry. I like that I’ve got this robotic man finally showing some emotion.

“I’m not being obstinate,” I say, stepping closer to him. “I apologize that you’re not used to people challenging you, Harry, but I’m not some Tory toff who blindly accepts your leadership.”

He doesn’t back away, and suddenly, we’re standing toe-to-toe, close enough that I can see a battle raging in his eyes as he stares at me.

“Why are you always so…so…?” He claws a hand through his hair.

I don’t think I’ll be flattered if Harry continues that sentence, so I cut him off.

“It’s not my fault I’m stranded with the most anally retentive, emotionally suppressed twat on the planet.”

His eyes blaze. “And you’re melodramatic and opinionated. Of all the people I could have been stranded in the wilderness with, you are the absolute worst person in the world for it to be.” He spits every word out, his chest heaving.

But I’m still not backing down. And I’m prepared to play dirty.

“You must hate the fact you want me so much then, right?” I say.

Harry’s breath stutters, but his glare doesn’t waver from mine.

“Yes,” he says in his perfectly crisp upper-class accent. “Yes, I hate it.”

And suddenly, he’s closing the gap between us, determination etched in every line of his face. His hand is on myshoulder, pushing me against the nearest tree. I stumble back a few steps.

And then, when I can retreat no further, he has me pinned against the tree.

My heart pounds, my chest heaving as I take in the absolute fire in Harry’s eyes.

“Come on, Matheson, let’s see if your mouth is good for anything,” I rasp.

With a frustrated growl, his body presses even closer against mine, and his mouth crashes down on my lips.

Harry Matheson’s mouth is on mine, consuming me.

I never knew a kiss could be so fierce.

Our mouths open and our tongues battle each other in a different way than normal. I don’t know what we’re trying to do here, a battle for supremacy, a war over who can get their tongues further into the other’s mouth, but it’s the most ferocious kiss I’ve ever been part of.

The tree’s rough bark is against my back, but I hardly feel it, too lost in the sensation of Harry’s mouth. One of his hands fists in my hair, tilting my head to deepen the kiss, while the other roams down my side, fingers digging into my hip. He kisses me like a man possessed, like every ounce of pent-up frustration and desire has boiled down to this one moment.

Who knew hate kissing was a thing? Or that it could feel this good?

Chapter Sixteen

Harry

Toby’s mouth, that generous, torturous, infuriating mouth, is now under mine.

But he’s no passive recipient of a kiss. Instead, Toby is kissing me back with everything he has.

It’s been so long since I’ve been kissed. So long since I’ve had the delicious slide of tongues, someone’s mouth consuming mine.

Toby’s stubble scrapes the side of my mouth, and I can’t help a whimper as I continue to devour him.