Lustful Gaze (London Loves #6) Read Online Free PDF Page A

think this might be what it meant to be gay. He didn't like to label himself as anything – he simply loved Scott who happened to be a man, and so what? It didn’t mean he needed to behave like a camp ostentatious sex-maniac.
    Ever since then Paul had decided to distance himself from the whole ‘scene’ thing. He just wanted to have a normal life with the person he loved. Paul had never been ashamed of his sexuality; he just didn’t want to bang a drum about it.
    It was good now, though, how much easier things were for gay lads. Gay people no longer needed to go out of their way to behave in an ideal version of what it meant to be gay. Because actually, these days, no one really cared who you loved or who you wanted to fuck. Just as long as you were a good person and didn’t piss anyone off, things were pretty harmonious. At least in the UK.
    But there was still progress to be made. Soho and Brighton were really the only places in the UK where you’d see gay people holding hands and feeling completely safe. Paul smiled now as he noticed a couple of middle-aged women walking towards him with their arms around each other – probably on their way home from work, as Paul was. He reached up and loosened his tie, undoing his top button and hoping to let the summer breeze circulate. He knew he could justifiably remove his suit jacket on a balmy evening like this, but somehow he never felt quite dressed without it.
    The August evening sunshine had brought out shoppers and drinkers tonight, and the street bustled with crowds of people ready to let off steam after a hard day at the office. The streets were packed with rowdy people, and Paul suddenly felt vulnerable about the precious gift he was carrying in the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
    He patted his ribs to check the little jewellery box was still there. Yes, good. He couldn’t risk being pickpocketed tonight. There were thieves everywhere and he knew he looked like an easy target with his expensive suit and slim build. Paul always tried to stay out of trouble, but he was prepared to fight for the antique ring in pocket tonight.
    Paul crossed the road and saw a homeless guy sitting forlornly in the doorway of a disused shop. Paul grabbed a handful of change from his trouser pocket and dropped it into the man’s ragged hat as he passed. He felt terrible for not giving him more. Surely he could just go to the ATM and draw out enough money for the poor guy to get a decent meal and a bed for the night. 
    Paul knew he should do more for the homeless – for society. He had all this money now, but what good was it if he couldn’t use it to reduce the suffering in the world a little bit?
    Paul was pulled from his daydreaming by a piercing cry for help from a side-alley. No one else on the crowded sidewalk flinched, but Paul’s legs filled with energy and he instinctively veered towards the voice, and rushed down the alley. Someone was in trouble, and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he ignored their cries.
    The dingy side-alley stunk of blood and sewage. It was definitely a part of Soho that Westminster Council would want tourists to avoid. This was where the restaurants stored their garbage, waiting futilely for the refuse collectors to remove it – or for the vermin to eat it.
    With a jolt of surprise, Paul realised that the cry had come from a young man who was being pushed about by a couple of mean-looking thugs. Unthinkingly, Paul ran towards the melee, propelled by adrenaline and the need to protect. Time slowed as one of the thugs punched the young man so hard that he bounced against the brick wall and hit his head. He landed in a pile of slippery trash bags with a crash.
    It was dirty and secluded down here and, as Paul’s boot crunched over a broken bottle, he suddenly wondered what the fuck he was doing. But there was no way he could turn back now.
    He halted a few feet away from the action. “Hey, leave him alone!”
    The two men froze, then