“Thanks, Luce. I know you’re always there for me.” He grinned wryly. “Like now. It can’t have been comfortable sleeping downstairs and I’m so sorry I made you do that. You could have taken a taxi back to your hotel and left me sleeping it off.”
She pulled a moue. “Nah, where’s the fun in that? Someone has to look after you.” She gestured at the half-full bottle on the desk. “Although you’ll need to replace that before Ryan gets back. That’ll cost you about fifty dollars.”
Kyle sniffed. “I know a man who’ll get it for me for much less.”
Lucinda frowned. “Unless it was his special bottle of whisky that was bottled in about the nineteen-sixties. Jim said he had one of those somewhere. In which case, it’ll cost close to three and a half thousand dollars. Can your friend get you one of those cheap?”
Kyle’s stomach rebelled and he felt the beginning of a retch. He desperately sought out the dustbin. Lucinda sighed and pushed it over with her foot. Bile left his stomach and splattered at the bottom of the wads of paper that lay there. He wiped his mouth and prayed to every god he knew.
“Please tell me it wasn’t that one?” he gasped. “I just picked the bottle from the top tier. Surely he wouldn’t keep something worth that much here in his office?”
Lucinda pursed her lips, eyes alight with devilment. “Let me see…” She picked up the bottle and tut-tutted.
He waited, mind racing.
I’ll have to empty my savings to buy that. Shit, why didn’t I take more notice of what the fuck I was drinking?
He hadn’t realised he wasn’t breathing until she spoke.
“You’re in luck. It’s the bog standard one.” Her grin flashed and she put the bottle down. Kyle let out a sigh of relief. “But I knew that. God, you are so gullible.”
“You bitch,” Kyle sputtered. “Why would you do that to me?”
“I had to sleep in a smelly club on a sofa where guys banged each other all night. I’m probably covered in all sorts of disgusting stuff. You deserved it.”
His eyes narrowed. “You stepped over a line, there, Missy. I will get you back for that one. You made me hurl.”
She stood up and came over to flick his nose. “Nuh-huh. That was all on you, pretty boy. You and that bottle of whisky.” Her voice softened, but there was an edge to it he recognised. “God knows what made you drink so much. Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?”
He crossed his fingers. In the past, he’d never been able to keep secrets from her. She’d read him like a book. It was just as well, or he’d most likely be dead right now at the hands of his ex-lover. “Give it up, Sherlock. Can’t a man get drunk, pass out and have his lady friend take care of him?”
Lucinda’s face shadowed. “Yeah, it’s just that…”
Kyle knew what she was thinking. It’s just that every time you did that in the past was after Mario had hurt you, and you chose solace in booze and hid away like a cornered animal.
Kyle had never worried that his self-despair would turn into alcoholism. The one and only thing he’d had control over back then was his drinking, and he’d been damned if Mario would take that away from him as well.
He struggled to his feet, giving a startled yelp as his head buzzed with dizziness. “Honest, I’m good.” He sniffed himself and grimaced. “I need to shower though. We’d best get to my place. Unless you want to go back to your hotel?”
Lucinda slid off the edge of the desk. “I’ll come home with you, make sure you get there all right. Then I’ll probably get a taxi back to the hotel and have a shower myself. I stink of spunk.”
She stuck out her tongue and he couldn’t help a tired laugh. She was amazing and he missed her so much when she wasn’t around.
“Fine. Let me hide the evidence of my self-indulgence and we’ll get a taxi. I know it’s not far but I don’t think I want to walk home looking like this.”
Chapter Seven
Eric tapped his fingers on the bar top, picked at the beer bottle’s label, then drew a long pull as he glanced towards the restaurant’s entrance. Seven-thirty. Kyle should be here any minute.
The butterflies in his stomach intensified as the minutes ticked passed. There was something about Kyle that brought out all Eric’s protective instincts. He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone, an ex perhaps, hadn’t treated Kyle well. He was edgy, skittish and…oh my God, the man was gorgeous.
Eric took a deep breath as Kyle walked in the door. His fluid motion was a thing of beauty as his amazing long legs carried him into the restaurant. When he spotted Eric at the bar, Kyle’s face burst into a wide smile, and Eric imagined he was the only person in the room enjoying its warmth and radiance.
God, I’m really into this guy.
Kyle’s shock of purple black hair was covered with a grey beanie, giving his face an elfin appearance. His dark burgundy jeans were offset with a tight V-neck white tee-shirt, and covered with a casual black jacket teamed with a funky brown and red patterned scarf. He looked stunningly casual and elegant at the same time.
Eric looked down at his brown chinos with his black button up shirt and felt a little dowdy. But when Kyle’s eyes lit up at the sight of him and roved down Eric’s body, hovering in a frank, groin-warming inspection, he felt marginally better.
“You look edible,” Kyle murmured. “You are red-haired all over, it would seem.” He reached out and caressed the chest curls poking out of Eric’s shirt. “Of course, I speak from experience.” One eyebrow lifted teasingly, the one with the barbell piercing.
Eric felt his face flame at the reminder of that hot, dirty blowjob at the club. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought that getting another was on his To Do list tonight, first date or not. “Um, yeah, same colour all over.” Eric laughed as the waitress behind the bar gave him a knowing look. “You look really good too. That beanie suits you.”
Kyle chuckled. He reached up and tugged it off, running fingers through his hair to tame it. “It itches,” he complained. “But it keeps my ears warm. I feel the cold sink into me from head to toe.”
Eric touched Kyle’s arm. “Do you want a drink at the bar, or do you want to go straight to the table?”
Kyle’s eyes gleamed. “Table sounds good,” he murmured. “A little more private than here.”
Eric cleared his dry throat. “Sure.” He gestured to the waitress who was smiling like a Cheshire cat. “Could we be taken to our table please?”
Settled at a small table for two in the back corner, drinks in hand, Kyle looked around in interest. “It’s the first time I’ve been here.” He scanned the room as he drank his white wine. “It looks incredible with this décor, and the ambience is great. Really puts you at ease.”
Eric nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been in restaurants where you feel a bit out of place, and can’t relax. This one is different. Makes you feel welcome.”
“Someone Ryan knows owns it. A guy called Gideon Kent. Apparently, he gave up cooking for a while because of an accident, but now he’s back, and his boyfriend is the head chef. Nothing like keeping it in the family.” Kyle watched Eric over the rim of his glass then asked, “How did your sister’s wedding go?”
The change of subject caught Eric off guard. “It was”—he hesitated—“a wedding. The usual palaver accompanied by a wedding dress, pomp and ceremony plus too much food and drink. My folks did Shelley well. Her husband Greg is a really great guy.” Eric grinned. “Luckily, she’s the only daughter, so they don’t have to splash out on anything for me or my younger brother, Shepherd. I’m not big on the whole being married thing and Shepherd…” He snorted. “That kid is never going to settle down. He’s in Thailand now writing his travel journal to add to the video for his YouTube channel. Next week he’s in Bangkok and God knows where he’ll go from there. He has a girl in every port and loves it.” Part of him envied Shep’s lifestyle. At twenty-four years old, the world was his oyster.
Kyle’s eyebrows rose. “Shepherd is a YouTuber? Wow. It
amazes me how people make money out of that. So, you’re not into marriage?”
Eric shrugged. “Marriage is just a piece of paper. It’s the relationship and how you live your life together that matters. Don’t get me wrong, I cheered like a football fan when gay marriage was legalised in the U.K., but it’s not important to me personally.”
Despite his parents being together for over thirty years, Eric wasn’t a believer in the whole formal commitment thing. He and Lincoln had differing views on the matter, which led to a few loud arguments over the years. But now, every so often, Eric wondered if he had been stupid not to accede to Linc’s wishes. Hindsight and regret in the rear-view mirror.
Kyle took a sip of his wine, probably contemplating what Eric had said. The waiter came over and they ordered their food.
Eric couldn’t help but notice Kyle’s nails were clear tonight, no colourful varnish. They were well-maintained, oval-shaped and slightly longer than Eric had seen on a man before. He liked it. Those nails raking down his back…he shuddered. Down boy. Stop being so damned shallow. Not everything is about sex.
Although…a lot of the time it was.
“So,” Kyle drawled. “We have something else in common. Neither of us are big believers in the whole matrimonial thing.” His face darkened. “And having to get married in church or utter those awful wedding vows—that really doesn’t work for me.”
Eric nodded. “I remember you told Ryan and I once you aren’t religious. I’m not either so looks like we have that in common too.” He frowned. “You said we have something else in common. What was the other thing?”
Kyle’s eyes lit up and his mouth quirked up a little. “We both love dick,” he announced, not as quietly as Eric would have liked. Then Kyle sat back and laughed as Eric glanced around quickly to see if anyone had heard.
“Why not proclaim it to the whole restaurant?” Eric murmured, but smiled at his dinner partner. God, the man was adorable.
Kyle’s fingers grazed Eric’s, sending a shock down his arm. “Why shouldn’t we? We’re two grown gay men on a date. I won’t hide who I am.” He looked uncertain suddenly, and sat back, biting his lip. It was a most endearing gesture. “You’re not, like, in the closet or anything, are you? I mean, I don’t expect naked shagging in public, but I won’t hide the fact I’m with a man.” His voice grew fierce. “That’s pretty much a deal breaker for me.”
Eric was taken aback. “No. Hell, I’m out and fine with it. I mean, I try to watch what I do in public but it’s not like I wouldn’t hug or kiss, or hold hands with a guy, as long it’s safe.”
Kyle leaned forward and traced the blue vein in Eric’s hand. “Good. Because I’ve done that before for someone and I can’t do it again.”
Eric hadn’t missed the pain in Kyle’s tone, and once again he wondered who had hurt him. Now wasn’t the right time to ask about it.
“So, I’ve told you about my family. Tell me about yours.” Eric waved the waiter over to order more drinks. “I know you’re Jewish, non-religious and worked in Vegas as a croupier or something like that, but not much else.”
Eric watched the shutters come down over Kyle’s face. It reminded him of a veil being drawn over a bride.
“Not much to tell, really. I was born in Chicago. My parents emigrated to the U.K. when I was seven.” His fingers toyed nervously with the saltshaker. “I went back to Las Vegas in oh-eight, when I was twenty, waited to turn twenty-one then found work as a croupier-slash-cocktail waiter at The Bohemian Club Casino. That’s where I met Lucinda.” His face lit up and Eric hoped that one day he might see the same affection on Kyle’s face for him. “She’s my bestie, although we live on different continents. I’d love you to meet her while she’s here.”
He put the saltshaker down. “Then in oh-eleven I moved back to the UK and bummed around a bit. A year later I joined Club Delish. I’ve been there ever since.”
Eric nodded. “No family then?”
Kyle looked down at the table. His movements stilled. “I’m an only child. Mum and Dad moved back to Chicago seven years ago. I see them when I go back to the States.” His brow furrowed. “That would have been June last year.”
“You liked Las Vegas then? It must have been exciting, being out there with all that glam and high rollers.”
Kyle’s hands clenched on the table, scrunching his napkin into a tight wad. “It was an experience. Let’s simply say that.” He looked relieved as the food arrived. “This looks scrumptious. Smells amazing.”
Eric had a feeling the sharing portion of the evening had concluded. He guessed both of them had their secrets. You couldn’t get through your twenties without amassing some baggage. Eric had his Lincoln stuff, and Kyle…well he had something, that was for sure.
Eric was happy to wait until things were at a place that they both felt comfortable to say more. He had high hopes things would progress in that direction.
They ate in companionable silence, joking and putting the world to rights. Eric was all for paramedics being given bulletproof vests and being taught how to deal with potential bombs and explosive devices. Kyle was keen to ensure the future of nightclubs in London, given new legislation, increasing bureaucracy and the focus on shutting down clubs to make way for offices. Money talked in a loud voice in the new London.
Their conversation took them late into the night, and it was close to eleven when they both sat back, replete with coffee, and stared at each other.
Kyle cleared his throat. “I guess we should be getting on our way. The staff keeps giving us the evil eye. I think they want to close.” He laughed softly. “I know the feeling, so what do you say we take the chit-chat back to my place, have a nightcap and see what develops.”
Eric blinked. He’d never met anyone quite as direct as Kyle before.
“Unless you have an early morning shift tomorrow,” Kyle hastened to add. “It’s Monday, so I’m off. I guess you don’t have the same privilege.” He looked hopeful.
“My shift starts at ten,” Eric said quietly.
“Oh.” Kyle seemed uncomfortable. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m moving too fast for you, it’s just…I like you and I’m not one to beat around the bush. I understand if you’d rather let this one go. Just tell me.”
Eric laughed softly. He loved the way Kyle tackled everything head on, and wore his heart (or was it his cock?) on his sleeve. After a few tough years of being unable to care about anyone after Linc, this colourful man was a refreshing change, and Eric couldn’t wait to get to know him better.
Kyle cocked his head. “Was that a ‘I can’t wait to kick him to the kerb’ laugh or a ‘I’m going to take him up on his offer and soon we’ll be naked’ one?”
Eric stood. “It’s an ‘I’m going to take a piss and while I’m gone you get the bill so we can go home together’ laugh.” He watched a grin slide onto Kyle’s handsome face then turned to walk to the bathroom. This guy is going to be a whole load of trouble. But I think I’m ready for it. God, please don’t let me have any nightmares tonight.
Eric hadn’t had any bad dreams in the last week so he was hopeful. The thought of going home with Kyle both exhilarated and scared him. Eric did his business, zipped up and by the time he got back, Kyle was already standing with his jacket slung over his shoulder.
“I thought you were getting the bill?”
“I did. Done and dusted.” Kyle grinned.
“The idea wasn’t that you were paying. How much do I owe you?” Eric reached into his pocket for his wallet. His hand brushed the cock that had been half-hard all night.
Kyle tut-tutted. “Simmer down, gorgeous. You can pay me back later, or get the next one. I thought we could do with getting a move on, that’s all.” His violet eyes flashed, heat visible in their depths.
Even empty, the restaurant seemed small and crowded suddenly and Eric hoped Kyle didn’t live too far. “Let’s go then.” Eric noticed the huskiness in his voice, and from Kyle’s full body shiver, he’d noticed too. “I’m
in the mood for a nightcap.”
The taxi ride was so brief that as soon as they were settled inside, they were pulling up to the block of flats where Kyle lived. The building’s façade was old and Victorian.
Eric insisted on paying the taxi driver then followed Kyle inside.
“It’s only four levels,” Kyle explained as they walked up the winding stairs. “Three flats on each floor. Mine is at the end of the fourth floor.” He flashed a wicked grin. “The lift kinda groans when you get in it, so I prefer the stairs most times.”
Eric loved walking behind Kyle. He was almost at full mast already just from watching the globes of the man’s arse as they worked together in tandem temptation.
What this man does to me is criminal.
They stopped in front of a scratched, white oak door and Kyle slid the key in and opened it. He stepped inside, flipped on the light switch then shrugged off his scarf and jacket, and threw his beanie casually on a chair.
“Make yourself at home.” He gestured to the couch. “I’ll grab us a drink. You like whisky?”
Eric nodded as he sat down. “That’s fine, thanks.”
God, he wanted to make a move on Kyle. To grab him, pull him over Eric’s body and kiss the ever-loving fuck out of him. To strip him, see what delights he held hidden beneath those trendy clothes, and to be lust-driven, sweaty beasts together, intent on finding their gratification. The need was so strong Eric could taste it in the air, scent it in the tantalising aroma of spicy cologne and musky male.
Kyle coughed. “Your drink, sir?” He passed the glass to Eric and sat down beside him, close enough that he felt the heat emanating from Kyle’s body. The smirk on his face said he knew exactly what he wanted. Eric imagined he mirrored Kyle’s open desire.
As Eric’s first sip of whisky slid into that mouth, Kyle’s gaze was riveted to Eric’s throat. Those intriguing violet eyes flared as Eric swallowed and Kyle took a sip of his own drink. His tongue came out and licked the remnants of whisky from his lips. Surely intentional, the tease hit its mark, raising Eric’s blood pressure and making his groin ache.
Survival Game (Men of London Book 9) Page 7
