A Touch of Heaven Read Online Free PDF Page A

and he’s wearing a proper shirt with it, only open collared and with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Not surprisingly, given I never heard his tread, his feet are bare. They’re narrow and golden and just as yesterday, they look strangely vulnerable. I want to touch them. Maybe kiss them.
    “How did you know I was up here? Have you been spying on me?” I get terrible qualms of fear all of a sudden. Is he a stalker? A stalker who has naked, beautiful feet?
    “Not spying, just watching over,” he says quietly, smiling but also a little perplexed. Although why he should be perplexed when he’s the one who’s just snuck up on me without making a sound and then watched me masturbate, I really don’t know.
    And now the first shock of his appearance has passed, the full force of my embarrassing predicament hits me. My ears, and the rest of me, turn puce.
    “Well then, obviously, you’ve just watched over me masturbating, haven’t you?” There’s no way I can deny or dissemble, so I might as well charge at this thing head on. Even so, I smooth my robe down over my thighs in a belated attempt at modesty.
    “Yes, indeed.” He smiles, and it’s like the sun coming out. Even the rain outside seems to falter as his face lights up. “You look very beautiful too. I love seeing your pleasure, and hearing your voice. You’re magnificent, Miranda. You take my breath away.”
    And you take mine. Even in his clothes, and when I’m still vaguely cross with him for sneaking up on me, he’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen in my life. The eyes. The mouth. The hair. The knowledge of that sublime body beneath his dandyish but second-hand-looking clothes.
    “Who are you, Patrick?” The words come out as if someone else’s asked them. I didn’t intend to. I’m not sure I want to know.
    Again, he looks troubled. A little bit sad. It’s as if the question and its answer are both fraught with anguish. I wish I’d never spoken, but I can’t call it back.
    “A friend, that’s all I want to be. A friend.”
    Oh God, how I want one of those. I have acquaintances and friends, people I know and like. But no-one close, the way Gerald once was, and even Steve after him. I know I’m being stupid, because I sense Patrick is keeping untold numbers of secrets from me, and could be anybody—or anything. Lord knows what. But still, to be friends with him seems like a gift from heaven.
    “Okay then, friend. What do we do now? What’s next?”
    He laces his fingers together, elbows on knees, and studies me for a moment, beaming now that the first barrier of awkwardness is breached and we’re back in our secret world of unreality.
    “I’d love to kiss you.” As if anticipating the taste of me, he flicks his pink tongue across his lips.
    I shudder. Down below, my sex clenches as if he’d flicked at me .
    “Er, okay then.” I’m so excited, so hungry for him that I can’t think of anything better or more sophisticated or sexy to say. I can’t believe how he befuddles me like this when I barely know him.
    He surges forward across the bed and half-kneels in front of me, then with a warm hand cradling my cheek, he draws me to him. His mouth is sweet and mobile, alive with promise and potential. I sink back against the pillows and he follows me in, swooping over me, gentle and warm and generous.
    It’s all so easy with him somehow. I don’t worry the way I did with Steve, about my age or my attractiveness or my health issues. In my gut and my heart, I know that Patrick doesn’t judge me the way others do. As he explores my mouth with his twisting, dabbing tongue I wind my arms around him. My robe falls open, but I don’t give a damn. I even smile.
    “Why are you smiling?” he asks, pausing to plant tiny kisses at the margins of my grin.
    “Oh, just thinking what a silly old fool I am,” I answer lightly, kissing the corners of his mouth and the sweet little indentations of his smile dimples. “For succumbing so