Survival Game (Men of London Book 9)

by Susan Mac Nicol

  Brook nodded at him. “Hi Eric—you’re looking good. How’s things at work?”

  Kyle tried not to listen to their conversation, affecting an air of disdain he didn’t feel. He watched the show but kept his ears pricked for mentions of him or signs that Eric was missing him. They didn’t come.

  Why doesn’t Eric look more upset that he hasn’t seen me for a week? Why doesn’t he talk to me, or apologise? Well, two can play that game.

  For the rest of the evening, Kyle put on a great show of his card skills, amazing everyone with his dexterity. He chatted civilly to Eric, as if nothing had changed, and was gratified to see the confusion in his face that Kyle seemed unaffected by their parting.

  Secretive bastard, Kyle thought savagely. See me not give a fuck. See me getting over you. And yet the whole time he was performing his famous croupier shuffling skills and showing his friends the magic tricks he’d learnt in Vegas at the side of the Great Hazzy Houzzini, Kyle was dying a little bit inside.

  The 606 Club in Soho was one of Kyle’s favourite jazz places. Intimate and bohemian, it was one of his go-to places when he needed cheering up. And cheering up was just what he needed.

  It had been two days since he’d seen Eric at Club Delish, and since then he’d received one short message saying that it had been good to see him and Eric would be in touch soon. Kyle had responded back with a thumbs-up icon, and that had been as much as he could manage. So, when he sat in his favourite booth with a whisky sour—a drink of sheer perfection created by the legendary bartender Sergio—tapping his fingers to the strains of jazz floating across the room, the last thing he expected to see when he opened his eyes was Eric.

  He looked tired; his eyes were shadowed, and he seemed thinner. He still looked good though, in ripped jeans and a white long-sleeved tee-shirt.

  “Hey.” Eric said, slipping his thumbs into his belt loops and leaning forward slightly.

  “Hey, back.” Kyle stared for a moment, and then realising it was getting them nowhere, he motioned to the seat beside him. “Want to sit down?”

  Eric slid into the booth, the heat and touch of his body in the closed space instantly causing Kyle’s groin to react.

  “How did you know I was here?” Kyle asked then chuckled. “Don’t tell me. Ryan.”

  Eric nodded. “He said you were coming down here tonight. That he’d given you the night off while he sees how Kellie does managing the club on her own.” He frowned slightly. “She seems to be settling in well. Is everything okay there? Ryan’s not thinking of replacing you or anything is he? Because you’re one of the best things to happen to that club—”

  Kyle reached over and pressed a firm finger over Eric’s lips. “Don’t be daft. I’m quite happy with having a bit more time off, to be honest. You know what my days off are usually like—popping down to check on things, catch up on paperwork I can’t do when I’m there at night and do stock takes and shit. It’s nice to not be the only one anymore. And Ryan would never do me wrong.”

  Eric didn’t look convinced and Kyle’s chest filled with warmth. He’s worried about my job. That’s too sweet.

  “Well, okay. As long as you’re happy.”

  Kyle decided the time had come to let Eric know exactly how he felt. It couldn’t do any harm. After all, Eric had taken the time to seek him out, hadn’t he? That must mean something.

  “I haven’t been happy for a while,” he admitted, raising his glass and taking a sip while Eric beckoned a waitress over. “I missed you.” There, I said it. Deal with it.

  Instead of backing off as he half expected, Eric leaned over and fixed his eyes on Kyle’s. They really are like peridot, he thought dreamily. So damn beautiful.

  “I missed you too.” Eric reached up and traced a warm finger along Kyle’s cheekbone. “Like crazy. That’s why I swung around tonight. To apologise and tell you I care about you and I’m not going to let you go over a stupid spat.” He shrugged. “I had plenty of time to think about things and I think I’m in a better place to talk to you about it.”

  Kyle struggled to draw a breath after that admission. His insides were all tingly, and something else was getting happy too. Finally, he managed to respond.

  “Glad to hear it,” he murmured. “Maybe I should finish up my drink and we can go back to my place, finish what we started the other night?”

  He gasped as Eric’s hand reached under the table and squeezed his thigh. “ Let me finish the drink I just ordered, watch this next set and then we can go. Deal?”

  “Deal,” Kyle agreed.

  They sat in contemplative silence as the next band came on. Kyle’s body swayed to the saxophone and drum work, and for a while, he lost himself in the rhythm.

  Jazz, whisky and a sexy—and hopefully repentant—man beside him, willing to take whatever punishment Kyle offered.

  Things were looking up.

  They reached Kyle’s house around eleven o’clock and he mixed them a drink. Eric looked around the flat with surprise.

  “Your place is looking really tidy,” he muttered as he took in the obsessively re-organised in alphabetical order DVD collection. His eyes drifted to Kyle’s dice collection. “And you’ve added a few more of those.”

  Kyle looked over at his pride and joy fondly. He’d been acquiring dice for years and had quite the collection. “I had some time to hunt them out and buy a few more. Pretty cool, huh?”

  “A few more?” Eric snorted in amusement. “You’ve bought a lot more than a few.”

  “Did you come here to talk about my dices—dice? Dicii? I never remember the plural for the damn things—or do you want to tell me what happened the other day that put you in such a bad mood?” Kyle plonked down beside Eric, making sure their legs touched.

  The sigh Eric heaved seemed to have been dragged from deep inside. “I guess.” He took a deep gulp of his drink and Kyle could see he was garnering courage for whatever he was about to tell him.

  “That day we went to the gallery, I went to a therapist to talk about my ‘problems.’” Eric used air quotes. “I knew I needed to talk to someone about it again given what happened the other day but…” He shook his head fiercely. “I wasn’t prepared.”

  Kyle was mystified. “What the hell is ‘it?’ Are you being deliberately cryptic?”

  Eric swung around to face him, eyes dark. “It was losing a man to suicide. The other day, when I was working a case, the guy jumped and I couldn’t save him. It rehashed all the inadequacies and guilt I felt when I lost my partner in Nepal. I watched the man I loved fall to his death while saving me.”

  Kyle gasped in horror. “Eric, I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine—” He broke off as Eric made a cutting motion with his hand.

  “It was the most unselfish and noble thing anyone has ever done for me. And I fucking hated him for it.” The room fell silent. The bleak look in Eric’s eyes spoke volumes and Kyle wasn’t sure what to say.

  Finally, he dragged up the courage to be the friend Eric had been a couple of weeks before when Kyle bared his soul. “Can you tell me what happened? I’d like to hear about it if you can tell me. You kind of scared me the other night.” So, this is what he’s been hiding. God, he must have been devastated.

  A pang of fear, selfish but nonetheless real, took him by surprise. Can I compete with a man who gave his life for his lover? How does anyone beat that? Especially me, who couldn’t even stand up for himself with his psycho ex.

  It was the shuddering breath Eric took as he passed a hand over his eyes that made Kyle want to rush over and hug the life out of him. At least he was good for that.

  After another minute of pacing, Eric sat down in his chair and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he stared at Kyle fiercely.

  “First things first. You know I would never hurt you, right? I’m not a violent guy, and after what you went through, the idea of doing anything harmful to you appals me. The other night, I was on edge. No excuse, just…” He gazed at Kyle imploringly. “I’d never
touch you in any way you didn’t want.”

  Kyle rubbed his fingers along the top of Eric’s hand. “I know,” he said. “I do, honest. It’s just sometimes, I get spooked.”

  “I’m sorry, babe,” Eric said softly. “I never wanted to make you think of him. That’s the last thing I ever want you to do. He’s in your past, and let’s hope he’ll stay there.”

  He took a shuddering breath. “I guess I should start at the beginning. My boyfriend’s name was Lincoln Dunbar. He was a couple of years older than me. I met him through a rock-climbing group. It used to be a thing of mine.” He stopped, his face growing contemplative. “Linc was an experienced instructor and he taught me everything I knew about climbing. One thing led to another and we became a couple. I’d just joined the ambulance service so time together wasn’t easy. But we managed. God, we managed.”

  A faint smile crossed his face at a memory and Kyle swallowed, feeling it was not becoming of him to be jealous of a dead man.

  “In twenty-twelve, a group of us went to Nepal to do some climbing.” Eric’s face turned bleak. “We were on our way up to the summit of Everest when there was an earthquake.” He looked down at his entwined hands in his lap. “It triggered an avalanche. Linc was bringing up the rear. My buddy Anton was at the top and Katherine was below me. We managed to swing into a cave. God knows how we managed it, but we did. Lincoln wasn’t so lucky. The rope slipped, cut, fuck knows, and he went dangling off into the abyss.” He halted, taking a deep, tortured breath.

  Kyle’s eyes stung as he fought to choke back tears at the distraught look on Eric’s face. He couldn’t speak for love or money, too caught up in the tragedy.

  Eric continued, his voice rough. “I managed to pull him up, Anton was holding me, but he couldn’t sustain it.” He stood up, taking agitated strides around the room. “I told him, Anton, don’t you fucking let go of me. I’m going to pull Linc in.” He gave a shuddering sigh. “And he tried, God he tried. But I kept slipping, going down the same way as Lincoln, while he kept telling me to leave him. But I couldn’t. I had hold of his arm so tightly, but it was only his jacket and I—” he choked, tears running down his face. “Then he looked at me and said, “Time to save yourself. I love you, baby.” And he let go. Just...let go.”

  Staring into space, seeing what had to be etched into him memory, he sputtered, “The bastard left me there holding his jacket and watching him fall into a fucking abyss.” His face was ghastly pale and Kyle couldn’t help the tears flowing freely down his face. His heart ached with pain and grieved for the man who’d given his life so Eric could live—and oh the tragedy for Eric to have seen it. Who wouldn’t be traumatised by that experience?

  This time, Kyle didn’t care whether Eric wanted him close or not. Kyle needed to hold him.

  “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” he murmured helplessly as he pulled Eric into his chest and wrapped arms around him. Eric fell into him and his body shook with sobs.

  “I hated him for leaving me,” he stuttered, words muffled against Kyle’s chest. “I put it behind me, tried to carry on. It was hard and I still miss him every day. But I was dealing with it, even with the nightmares, the memories. Then a few days ago, the day I blew you off, someone went and jumped off a building. I tried to stop him but I couldn’t.” He lifted his head and stared at Kyle with swollen eyes. “All I was left with was his damn cardigan. Just like before.”

  Kyle’s heart broke in two right then. That Eric had been through this with someone he’d loved, and now, to bring it all to the fore again, a stranger had done the same. No wonder Eric was falling apart, and on the edge.

  And it sounds like he still loves Lincoln.

  Kyle swallowed, trying to relieve the ache in his throat at the thought Eric might not want him after all and he might have misjudged things.

  “Let it out,” he whispered against Eric’s hair. “I’m here for you. No matter what the outcome is, I’ll always be around.”

  Eric stilled then pulled free from Kyle’s embrace. “What do you mean?” he choked out. “That sounds like you’re planning on going somewhere.” He sounded desperate.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Kyle murmured. “Promise.” Not until you ask me to leave.

  Eric’s face flooded with relief. “Oh, that’s good. I thought…” His voice trailed off.

  His face lighting up gave Kyle hope. “He sounds like a remarkable man, your Lincoln.”

  Eric nodded. “He was. We had good times together.” He took Kyle’s hand and rubbed his fingers gently across the top. Kyle watched the movement, mesmerised.

  “When he died, I resented that I’d lived and he hadn’t. Aaron calls it survivor’s guilt. He says it’s common enough.” Eric traced circles on Kyle’s palm. “Being in my current job doesn’t help when I lose a patient. It’s been worrying me a lot lately.”

  Kyle nodded. “I’ve read about that.” He wrinkled his nose as he thought about the two of them. “I suppose you and I have that in common. We both survived something traumatic, although you lost someone dear to you and I didn’t.”

  Eric chuckled weakly. “This isn’t a competition, babe. When I think of the guy that hurt you that way, used you like a punching bag, did other foul things to you, I want to beat his lights out.” He stopped and raised Kyle’s hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on his skin. “We both suffered, just in different ways.”

  Then bright green eyes looked into Kyle’s. “So, I’m seeing my therapist again,” Eric muttered. “She’s helping me with some stuff.”

  Kyle wanted to laugh at the irony of it all. “That’s good. I don’t want to detract from your story, but”—he hesitated—“I am too. I finally caved in and am seeing someone about what happened to me in Vegas. Luce will be thrilled.” He shrugged. “I understand what you’re going through is what I’m trying to say.”

  Eric’s eyes widened. “Wow, look at us. We’re a truly modern couple, both in therapy and talking about our issues.”

  Kyle cleared his throat, not quite knowing how to phrase his next words. “Is this therapy bringing out old feelings? Are you, like…” he stuttered, “…discovering you still have unresolved feelings, anything I need to know about?”

  “Are you asking me if I still love Lincoln?” Eric leaned forward and ran his finger along Kyle’s bottom lip. “I’ll always love him in my own way, in here.” He touched his chest, and Kyle’s throat went dry. “But he’s not around now. I have plenty of room in my heart for someone else to love, and you fit perfectly. Like you were made for me.”

  Kyle’s stomach fluttered and his body tingled as Eric face split into the most genuine smile Kyle had seen all day.

  “Now kiss me, please. You have this habit of making me feel like nothing else matters. I need some of your Kyle magic right now.”

  The kiss that followed was like no other kiss Kyle had experienced. Eric’s lips were a mix of salt and sweet, his hands clutching tightly to the back of Kyle’s head, holding him there. Poignant and sweet, he didn’t want to let go.

  Being needed this way was a heady euphoria, and when the kiss changed from soft and subtle to deep, wet necessity, where tongues duelled and lips bit, there was no going back.

  Standing as if they were one, the kiss went from one of support and compassion to a place where there were only two naked, desperate men, eager to touch and feel each other as if there would be no other chance to do so.

  Eric manoeuvred them to the couch, his lips swollen with the force of their kisses, his beautiful body stretched out like a smorgasbord of something Kyle wanted to sample.

  “I want you to make love to me,” Eric whispered as he lay down, pulling Kyle on top of him. He opened his legs and beckoned Kyle in. “Need to be as close to you as I can get. You inside me…”

  He reached his arms above his head, deliberately teasing Kyle. He resembled an infinitely sexier and debauched image of “Boy on the Bed” by Lucian Freud, another one of Kyle’s favourite works of art.

 
; “Oh, I’m happy to oblige,” he said as he rubbed their cocks together, eliciting an appreciative moan from the man sprawled beneath him. He rummaged around under one of the cushions then produced the lube with a “Ta-dah.” A condom was located too, and in record time, he was suited up and ready to go.

  He watched, entranced, as Eric’s fingers circled his own entrance, and couldn’t hold back a moan when Eric plunged a finger inside himself, throat muscles straining.

  “God, I could watch you do that all day.” Kyle reached down and covered Eric’s fingers with his own, slicking them with lube. “Now it’s my turn.”

  He pushed Eric’s legs up, gaining access to the enticing hole. He slid inside, watching Eric’s mouth opening with a satisfied grunt. Emboldened, he thrust deeper, and this time, Eric groaned loudly and took firm hold of Kyle’s arse, pulling him farther inside.

  Heated flesh around Kyle’s cock pulsed and gripped him, and he thought he’d lose his mind being so at one with a man he was falling in love with.

  “God, baby, so good,” Eric panted, eyes half shut, as he rutted upwards. “Fuck me harder.”

  “I thought we were calling this making love, not fucking,” Kyle teased as he gained momentum and pounded into Eric’s arse.

  Eric’s eyes flashed open dangerously. “I don’t care what you want to call it,” he said between gritted teeth. “All I know is that I want to come, and you doing exactly what you’re doing right now is going to make that happen. Now shut the fuck up and get me off.”

  Kyle laughed and reached down to claim Eric’s lips. He wasn’t far off his own orgasm and knowing he could make a man come just by being inside him like this gave him a thrill of pride.

  The slap of flesh against flesh and the silken slide of their sweat-sheened bodies was all Kyle needed. He came with a startled cry at the unexpected force of it, body tensing and hands gripping Eric’s legs enough to make him growl with pain.