Page 82 of The Unlikely Pair

“Very funny.”

“Harry, even if there were people to tell, I’m sorry to say that me being desperate enough to sleep with you isn’t something I would share to enhance my reputation.”

I believe him. I can’t imagine detailing sexual encounters with the Conservative leader would help his political ambitions in any way.

Besides, I’ve already had two sexual encounters with Toby. I’ve engaged in enough scandalous behavior to generate a front-page headline. The rule book has definitely been well and truly torn up.

However, there’s another reason I potentially shouldn’t do this again with Toby.

I’ve always found Toby attractive, and I have other complicated emotions simmering under my animosity towards him. Something I have never wanted to scrutinize too closely. Being intimate with him can only amplify those feelings.

But I’ve already failed twice in trying to keep my distance. I have to concede I don’t have the willpower to spend twenty-four hours a day with Toby Webley in such close proximity and not succumb to my desire for him. At least this way, I can exert some semblance of control.

“All right, I believe you won’t talk about it. So, we just have the agreement that any time we’re both in the mood, we continue this.”

“It may help to pass the time while we wait for the wolves to come back or for us to starve to death or succumb to hypothermia.”

“That’s an optimistic view of our future,” I say.

“Well, you know me, Harry. Always looking on the bright side of life. I’m practically a walking, talking motivational poster.”

I study Toby’s face closely, observing the way his eyebrows knit together and his eyes dart away, betraying a hint of uncertainty under his confident smirk.

“You know, I might be messed up from my boarding school experience and unable to show emotion, but you deflect from your feelings using humor,” I say.

Toby’s face twists in a spasm of emotions.

“Sometimes humor is the easier option,” he says finally.

We just stare at each other.

“Fuck. There’s nowhere to hide out here, is there?” Toby asks, his eyes slightly wild.

“No,” I reply softly. “There’s nowhere to hide.”

I understand what he means. In our normal life, we can hide the parts of ourselves we don’t want others to scrutinize.

But it’s almost impossible out here. It’s just the two of us in situations far outside our comfort zones.

I haven’t been able to hide my attraction to Toby. He hasn’t been able to hide his fear from me.

Toby rakes his hand through his hair.

“I thought I was quite skilled at handling myself in stressful situations, but being out here has made a mockery of that,” Toby says, his voice low. “It makes me realize I treated many of the situations as chief of staff as an intellectual challenge, like they were a game I had to win. But everything keeps reminding me it’s not a game out here.”

“This is definitely not a game. It’s very, very real,” I say.

Our eyes lock, and I can see the raw emotion on his face.

“It’s good to know you feel like that too,” he says.

I hadn’t thought about how keeping my emotions under control had affected Toby. He’s said he feels lonely like he’s the only one struggling.

Toby and I are so intertwined right now. My survival and his survival are irrevocably linked.

“Trust me, I’m never losing sight of the stakes in this,” I say quietly.

“If we’re going to survive out here and make it home, we need to talk to each other more,” Toby says. “You need to tell me how you’re feeling. If your feet are sore, I need to know. If you’re hungry, I need to know. None of this stiff-upper-lip nonsense. There’s only one part of you I’m interested in seeing stiff, and it’s not your upper lip.”