With or Without Him (27 page)

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Authors: Barbara Elsborg

BOOK: With or Without Him
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Haris bunched his hands under the pillow below his head. “I haven’t talked about it for thirteen years but I’ve thought about it every day.”

Tyler slid his hand under the pillow and wrapped his fingers around one of Haris’s fists.

He took a deep breath. “No happy ending to my tale either. I was born in Saudi Arabia to a Saudi father and British mother. When I was eleven, I was sent to boarding school in the UK and only went home for the holidays. The summer after I’d done my A levels—I was seventeen, I did them a year early—I returned to Saudi to spend a year working for my father before I attended university in the UK. I’d already had a couple of sexual encounters at school, fumbles in the cricket pavilion and the showers, but in Saudi it’s against the law to have sex with another guy. I was caught naked in the arms of a twenty-two-year-old in Riyadh. I’d met him an hour before in a cafe. I was sentenced to a thousand lashes.”

Tyler’s eyes widened and his grip tightened. “Fucking hell.”

“That was actually a light sentence for sexual deviancy. The punishment was carried out over a period of weeks. Fifty strokes a session. I counted the first time and they gave me fifty-seven. I was stupid enough to point that out so they gave me another fifty. Well, they said they did. I was unconscious before they finished.”

Tyler squeezed his fingers.

“They told me if I screamed, they’d beat me harder, so I used to bite my arm to keep from crying out. Didn’t work. It was impossible not to scream. I used to long to pass out but I mostly didn’t.”

“What happened to the other guy?”

Haris’s cheek twitched. “Four thousand lashes and seventeen years in prison.”

“Oh my God.”

“I avoided a long prison sentence because of my age and my father’s influence. But that only went so far. Once the punishment had been completed, I was sent back to the UK to Cambridge University, and I’m no longer welcome in Saudi.”

“That’s barbaric.”

Haris nodded.

“Sending you to Cambridge? Cruel and unusual punishment.”

Haris gaped and then laughed.
God, when did I last laugh about this?

“I’m not making fun.” Tyler leaned over and planted a kiss on his shoulder, then left a damp trail of kisses down his spine. “It’s not that bad.”

Haris stiffened. “Yeah, it is. I never…”

“What? Never strip in public? Never let anyone see it? Never look at it yourself? Do you even go swimming?”

“I hire a place with a private pool a couple of times a year.”

“Fuck it, Haris. It really isn’t that bad.”

“It embarrasses me.”

“I’m much more interested in other parts of you to let the state of your back bother me. But you could get it covered with a tattoo. That would be kind of cool.”

“Scar tissue doesn’t cover well.”

“Have you been somewhere and asked?”

“I read it.”

Tyler tsked. “Where? On the font of all knowledge called Wikipedia?”

Haris smiled. “What design would you suggest?”

“Can I draw on you and show you?”

“Can you draw?”

“Hey, I’m multi-talented.” Tyler pushed to his feet. “What can I use that will come off when you wash?”

“There are some paints in the study. On the bookshelf. A set of watercolors. A hobby I thought I’d try, but never got around to.”

“Great. Don’t move.”

He listened to Tyler clatter downstairs and then thump back. With the set of paints open beside him and a little bowl of water, he straddled Haris’s thighs and ran the brush down his spine.

“Oh God.” Haris squirmed.

“So what do you think? Two little dogs playing in a garden with lots of flowers and butterflies and maybe a fish pond with a shark in it. Or I could do the Titanic. The theme is big things going down.”

“Is that all the choice I have?”

“Pretty much. Oh, tomatoes. I’m very good at those.”

Haris laughed and buried his face in his folded arms. “I don’t mind. Do your worst.”

He’d thought it would feel wrong but it didn’t. He’d thought the brush strokes, the pressure on his scars would remind him of his screams, but they didn’t. He hadn’t imagined he’d feel much of anything while Tyler worked on him, but he did. He felt calm and happy and…loved. He wondered if he’d fall asleep, but he didn’t do that either. Every stroke with the brush healed the one it covered until he forgot why Tyler was doing this.

“Finished yet?” Haris asked.

“Not quite.”

The sensation of Tyler painting on his back had both relaxed him and made him horny as hell. Several times, he’d had to slide his hand under his body to adjust his cock and each time Tyler snapped at him not to move.

“You won’t be able to keep the paint on in case you’re allergic. But I wish you could. Wow, I’ve given that dolphin such a cheeky smile.”

“What have you painted on my butt?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

Haris smiled into the pillow. He didn’t care if it looked like crap. No one had touched his back in a long time and he could still scarcely believe he was letting Tyler do this.

Finally, Tyler climbed off the bed and put the paints aside. “Okay, you’re done. I wish I had an airbrush. It would look even better.”

Haris levered himself up and padded to the closet. Tyler leaned against the door watching, his cock rigid, and Haris smiled.

When he looked in the mirror facing him to see the reflection in the one behind, the breath froze in his lungs. He managed to blink, thinking he wasn’t focusing properly but he was.

“Oh my God,” he muttered.

“Yeah, well you should be careful about using his name while you’re painted like that.”

Tyler had covered his back, his butt and half way down his thighs with two broken wings. The feathers looked solid enough to be real. He’d used some of the scar lines as quills and shafts. Haris couldn’t believe he was looking at his back.

“Well?” Tyler asked.

“You’ll have to point out the dolphin. I can’t quite spot it in the waves.”

Tyler laughed.

“It looks…amazing.”

“While you let those scars affect what you do, you’re allowing your punishment to continue. It’s done. You need to move on. Shit, that was brilliant advice. I just wish I could follow it myself.”

“Come here,” Haris said.

Tyler stepped into his arms.

“This is the most fantastic thing anyone has ever done for me. I don’t want to wash it off. I wish I could keep it forever.”

He pressed his mouth to Tyler’s and kissed him. When Tyler’s hands slid to his hips, Haris jerked back. “No, take a photo before it gets ruined. My camera’s in the top drawer in my dresser.”

“Come back into the bedroom then. You’ll look better against a blank wall.”

He
felt
better. How was that possible? How could a temporary painting make him feel like a different person?

“Pose,” Tyler said.

“What?”

“Stand facing the wall and look back over your shoulder. You can stand with your legs together, legs apart, pressed up against the wall, hands on the wall, hands off the wall. Just keep posing.”

“I was thinking of one picture.”

Tyler smiled. “Be a super model.”

Haris let himself slide into the role. He allowed his guards down and pretended to be someone else until he felt like someone else. A fallen angel but a better man.

Chapter Fifteen

Tyler kept hitting the wrong note as he practiced at college.
Every fucking time at the same point in the piece.
His mind was not on the music but on Haris. Things were really good between them so why did Tyler’s self-destruct button keep telling him to confess the rest? He’d gone over and over what he needed to say, but no matter what combination he came up with, he just couldn’t find the right words. Because the bottom line—
oh yeah, great phrase there, fuckwit
—was that he was trade, a rent boy, a whore, a guy who had sex with others for money. He might not have walked the streets wriggling his ass but he’d done as good as. The fact that he considered himself a cut above the rest was laughable. He wanted to forget any of it had ever happened, but he had a feeling deep in his gut that it was all going to come back to bite him.

So tell him. And tell him you don’t want his money. That you’re not with him for that.

Every time he’d looked at Haris’s happy face, felt his arms around him and his cock unfurl against his belly, he chickened out. The only positive thing was that Tyler would never sell himself again. Getting involved with someone had been the mistake he’d forecast, but he couldn’t help it. It had been much easier to accept his lifestyle when it had no impact on anyone but him. Damn the money, the debt. He’d do what normal people did and work it off in the conventional way.

And what happens when Haris finds out about Prescott and his parties? What happens when he knows there are movies of me sucking guys’ dicks, swallowing their come, letting them line up to fuck me?

It wasn’t only Haris who might be pissed off.
What do I say if what I’ve done has wrecked the band’s chance of success?

I’ll tell him. I’ll tell them.

But not yet.

Coward.

One more day.

And then one day more.

I’ll tell Haris on Friday. I won’t tell the band yet. We might not be going anywhere in any case.

He stayed late into the evening in college, playing until his mind was empty and the pieces were as perfect as he was going to get them. By the time he left, there was no one else around. Haris had told him he was out tonight on some company business and wasn’t sure what time he’d be back. Wilson was with him. Tyler looked forward to slobbing in front of the TV with Alcide, though he wasn’t supposed to let the dog into the lounge. Maybe he’d buy fish and chips on the way home. He didn’t suppose he was allowed those in there either.

Then it struck him what he’d said.
Home. Oh God.

Tyler pulled on his coat and hat and made his way out of the college grounds, still grinning. He was almost at the Tube station when he felt his mobile vibrate. His heart sank when he read Jeremy’s text.
Need you now. Please come to flat. I’m in big trouble.

Not a-bloody-gain.
Tyler called him but there was no answer.

He muttered under his breath. He didn’t want to go to see Jeremy but if he didn’t, and something had happened, the guilt would eat him alive. He texted back.
I’ll b there in 30.

 

 

Haris stood in the kitchen next to Wilson.

“You know what you have to do?” Stan said over the phone.

“Yes. Wilson’s memorized the route. We wait for instruction from you as to whether we take it or not.”

“Obviously, there’s no point if you’re not followed, but we’ll give it a while and see if a car picks you up.”

“Okay.”

“Well, ready when you are, and keep to the plan unless you hear otherwise from me.”

Haris put the phone back in his pocket.

“Are we a ‘go’, sir?”

Haris nodded.

“I’ll bring the car around to the front of the house.”

“Fine.”

“Not beginning to regret declining the bullet-proof option on the car?”

Haris barked out a laugh. “There wasn’t a bullet-proof option.”

“Indeed there was, sir. Sixty thousand pounds for the vehicle to be armored.”

“I don’t think we have anything to worry about, Wilson.”

“I’m not entirely happy with the word ‘think’.”

He smiled. “I can’t
think
of any reason why someone would want to shoot at me.”

“I suspect most people who are shot at
think
exactly the same in that moment between seeing the gun and feeling the bullet hit them.”

“Go and get the car.”

“Yes, sir.”

Haris headed out the front of the house and locked up. It was tempting to check the road for a white Fiat or a black Peugeot, but he kept his gaze fixed ahead. All that talk about bullets had set him on edge and it was ridiculous. If someone wanted to shoot him, they’d had plenty of opportunity. This was about something else.

Even so, he gave a mental sigh of relief when he was sitting in the back of the car and Wilson pulled away.

“Where did you tell Tyler you were going tonight?” Wilson asked. “Just so we have our stories straight.”

“Business meeting in Richmond.”

He tapped out a message to Tyler.
Don’t take Alcide into drawing room.
Then he smiled. Tyler and Alcide had bonded and Wilson adored the dog even though he pretended not to. Haris suspected this was the animal that would stay with them.

Tyler texted back.
Text him. It’s him who wants to take me in there.
Haris laughed.

When Stan called several minutes later, Haris wasn’t surprised to hear they had no tail. Wilson had been giving him a running commentary on every car he’d seen behind them and hadn’t spotted anything suspicious.

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