Two Faced (Harry Tyler Book 2) Read Free Page B

come.
    Studying was especially tough for Harry Dean because he had been placed in the smaller group with Rachel and his initial dislike of the woman was confirmed by her incessant chatter. He had sat next to her once in the canteen and paid a terrible price.
    ‘Why can’t they do summat healthy?’ she’d moaned as he tucked into a plate of ham, egg and chips. ‘I would kill for a bowl of broccoli soup, y’know? I’m trying t’stay clear of stuff like bread ’cos I was right poorly a while back and this fella in t’health shop said I should cut down on my wheat intake. But as a vegetarian that’s tough. I don’t want to turn into one of those foodie weirdos. Can I pinch one of your chips? Can I dip it in the sauce …?’ And so she had gone on for the entire dinner break. Verbal diarrhoea didn’t come into it. The woman would give an aspirin a headache. It was a mark of how good Harry was going to be at submerging his true feelings that nobody in the group even remotely suspected that he found her as irritating as thrush.
    For her part Rachel took Harry’s polite coldness as a sign of hidden depths. He was a good-looking guy, a little over six feet tall with blue eyes and dark brown hair. He was fit and muscular, clearly with something promising in the trouser department. He dressed well, he was funny, wore no wedding ring and hadn’t made a single attempt to chat her up since they had arrived. That made him a challenge, and on their last night at Bristol, after six hours of serious drinking, Rachel Freeman engineered a situation where she and Harry were alone. Jeremy Tyler, the biker, had the hots for the busty blonde Denise Watts, the top-heavy temptress from Torbay. Inevitably she was known as ‘Dirty Den’ because of the character in BBC1’s new hit soap EastEnders ; although, as Jeremy was to discover, the nickname was a triumph of hope over reality. ‘She just lay on that bed like a corpse,’ he had moaned to Harry the next day. ‘I might as well have been sticking my dick in a plate of cold suet.’
    Jeremy had brought Harry along as back-up and so it was that all four of them ended up back at Rachel’s digs, until the Northern lass tipped Denise the wink and she scooted Jeremy away. Harry made a half-hearted attempt to leave but it was late and besides, he had started to get a taste for Rachel’s brandy. As she saw the others out, Harry went for a slash. There was nothing wrong with the toilet, but it amused him to use the sink instead and then clear up the splashes with her flannel. Coming back, Harry noticed that Rachel’s bedroom door was opened so he stuck his head inside for a quick shufti: no cuddly toys – she wasn’t the type – but there was a Man City scarf over the headboard, a Prince poster on the wall, and a picture of her and presumably a sister on the bedside table.
    ‘So what are you, Harry chuck, forward or just nosey?’
    Shit. He hadn’t meant to get caught.
    ‘That Prince is some kind of ponce,’ he said, hoping to provoke a row. He’d wanted to ruck her since day one. Rachel changed the subject.
    ‘Let’s not kid around – you know you want me,’ she said, stepping into the room and shutting the bedroom door behind her.
    ‘Do I?’
    ‘Oh yeah.’
    ‘I think I’d better go …’
    ‘Sure you will. What’s the score then, pretend you’re not interested then go home and wank about what might have been?’
    Ordinarily Harry would have walked away, but he was smashed, his resistance worn down by duty-free Courvoisier. He could feel his distaste for the woman battling with pure lust – and, as he hadn’t had a shag for weeks, the lust won hands down. He smiled. Rachel came at him like a predator, eyes blazing, mouth open. Harry kissed her roughly. Too roughly. He was hurting her; he knew it but made no attempt to stop. Oddly, his aggression seemed to turn her on. Rachel pushed against him, relishing his hardness. She reached down and grabbed him through the