Page 89 of The Unlikely Pair

“I should have known you’d be gifted at coming up with nonsensical things,” he says.

I laugh, and Toby grins, his eyes sparkling.

Suddenly, his line twitches. “Shit,” he says.

He begins winding it in, his movements jerky. I quickly reach over to help guide his hands.

“Easy now, don’t yank too hard, or you’ll snap the line. Just a smooth, steady pulling motion,” I murmur close to his ear.

Toby takes a breath and follows my lead, winding smoothly until, finally, a decent-sized perch breaks the surface.

I reach down to grab the nylon closer to the hook so I can scoop the fish onto the bank.

Toby’s face lights up in delight as he takes in the large perch. And my breath leaves me.

Toby’s smiling his special Toby smile—the wide-open one that brings out his dimples.

I’m aware it’s not aimed at me. It’s because he’s caught a fish. But I can’t resist. I swoop in to kiss him.

He kisses me back, but for the first time, it’s not a kiss that’s designed to escalate things. It’s just a simple, straightforward kiss between two people who enjoy kissing each other.

After he pulls back, Toby laughs. “Is that my reward for catching a fish?”

I have to clear my throat, my voice slightly unsteady as I reply, “Yes, that is your reward.”

Toby glances down at the fish, a smile still lingering. “All right. Now you better teach me how to fillet this thing.”

Toby’s so triumphant about catching his first fish he doesn’t seem concerned that we’ve just kissed for the first time not due to the necessity of having sex.

But I’m definitely concerned.

Because this thing with Toby is transforming every day. I’ll feel like I’ve just gotten a handle on it, and then the parameters change again.

And my biggest concern is the final destination at which we will end up.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Toby

Our next few days follow a pattern.

Harry and I continue to follow the river downstream, stopping to fish whenever we need food. We talk about everything and anything, sometimes leading to debates because I don’t think Harry and I can coexist without finding something to disagree about.

Oh yeah, and the sex. I can’t forget that part.

Harry and I continue to have sex that redefines the word spectacular. I guess for Harry, it is the breaking of a long dry spell. And we’re definitely in monsoon season now.

It’s understandable. Besides fishing, making fire, and walking, there’s not much else to occupy ourselves. Blowjobs and hand jobs definitely help pass the time. All Harry has to do is look at me in a particular way, and I know he’s in the mood. Which nearly always gets me in the mood because, for some reason, having Harry Matheson want me is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

Harry is so steadfast. I used to despise that in him as an opposition politician, how calm and composed he always is. But it’s been my crux out here, knowing Harry is here to steady me when I need him to.

And when I get to see under his composed mask, see the pent-up passion that’s inside him, it feels like it’s worth so much more because no one else gets to see Harry like this.

I’m the only place where Harry’s impeccable control of his emotions seems to lapse. And I love it. I love seeing his breath hitch when I run my nose along his collarbone. I love reducing the articulate, formal man into a blabbering mess.

If we survive this, I’ll have to look myself in the eye and come to grips with the fact I’ve had the best sex of my life with Harry Matheson.

But there are no mirrors out here, so that is Future Toby’s problem. If Future Toby gets a chance to exist, which is not certain given our current circumstances.