Page 33 of Survival Game

Eric dressed in loose sweats and a long-sleeve tee-shirt to pick up Kyle. Eric drove his rarely used white 1972 MGB Roadster, nicknamed Little Lady, which was parked outside his house, ready to go. It had been a birthday present from his parents on his twenty-first birthday.

He’d already fixed the tonneau cover, thinking it was a bit too chilly to have the car’s roof down.

He set out into the chilly night air. It might only be a few miles away, but London traffic could be a bitch any time of the night or day.

Eric got to the club just before twelve and parked behind the venue in a small car park reserved only for employees. Ryan had been gracious about letting him park Little Lady there, muttering something about fools with cars and their obsessions with scraps of smoke puking metal.

Eric wasn’t even sure Ryan could drive, let alone whether he owned a car.

While he waited, Eric scrolled through his phone, glancing up now and then to check if Kyle was there. It wasn’t a particularly savoury place to walk. The parking lot was dark and closed in, and against one wall there was a row of dumpsters.

Eric hated dumpsters. He’d once been called out to a scene to find the man in need of medical assistance had just beaten another human being to death and dumped her in a dumpster like garbage.

Eric had hated every minute of tending to his patient, a crude roughneck of a brute who’d had a major heart attack after his violent assault on a much younger woman, apparently his sister.

Aaron had taken one look inside the bin and shaken his head. There’d been no saving the beaten girl. The brute, however—that was another matter. He’d recovered to face murder charges and was now in prison.

“Why the hell are you thinking about this now, when you’re about to go on a date with a sexy bloke?” Eric muttered to himself. “Think sexy thoughts.”

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath then squeaked in panic when firm lips pressed against his with a low chuckle. His eyes shot open as the warm mouth left his.

“Are you meditating?” Kyle stood beside the open window, rucksack over his shoulder, jacket slung over his arm. He looked tired but happy. “Aligning your chakras, are we?” He grinned then walked around the front of the car to climb in the passenger seat. He muttered as he tried to stretch out his long legs. “I love the wheels, but she isn’t Kyle friendly.” He glanced across at Eric. “You look as if you fit, so how come I feel like a sardine?”

“Practice,” Eric assured him as he started the car. “I’d suggest you keep your bag on your lap as there isn’t room for it in the back.”

Finally, Kyle settled in with his seat belt fastened and bag on lap as instructed. Eric pulled out of the dim parking lot and soon they were on the street.

“Thanks for coming to fetch me,” Kyle murmured as he rested, half asleep, against the chair back. “I wasn’t sure how far away you lived, and after a shift like tonight, I’d have fallen asleep and missed my stop.”

Eric placed a hand on Kyle’s thigh. “No problem. I love an excuse to get Little Lady out and drive her.”

“Little Lady?” Kyle chuckled. “I like it.”

Watching Kyle fall asleep was like watching a kid snuggle in under a comforter. He tucked in against the side of the door, hugging his bag possessively. He wore a small smile with those full lips slightly parted. His chest rose and fell evenly under his light pink shirt and a strand of dark purple hair fell across his cheek.

Eric wanted to brush it off but was scared he’d wake up Kyle. This man seemed to bring out all Eric’s protective instincts—something he’d last felt with Lincoln.

“He reminds me of you, Linc,” Eric whispered in the quiet confines of the car. “Strong on the outside, vulnerable on the inside. Mouthy and too damn sexy for his own good.”

He could almost hear Lincoln’s chuckle and reply. You have a type, Eric-bear. Just remember he’s not me. I’m gone. You need to find someone new.

The thought brought a lump to Eric’s throat and he was glad when he saw his house and pulled into his parking space. He switched off the engine and looked at Kyle, who slumbered on. It seemed a pity to wake him but he couldn’t leave him here squashed in the car.

“Come on, Sleeping Beauty.” Eric brushed his fingers down Kyle’s bristled cheek. “We’re here.”

Kyle’s eyes opened blearily and then he shot up, staring around him. “Oh, shit. I fell asleep, didn’t I? I’m so sorry. Some late-night booty call this is.”

Eric stared at him. “Booty call? That’s not what this is about, is it? Because that wasn’t my intention…”

Kyle swiftly shut him up by pressing cool lips to his. “Hush. It was a figure of speech.” He opened his car door and clambered out, stretching and giving a low groan of satisfaction. “Shit, I feel like one of those jack-in-the-boxes that’s just popped out.”

His tee-shirt drew up and Eric’s breath hitched at the glimpse of Kyle’s lean, naked torso and the treasure trail leading down, disappearing in his low-slung formal trousers.

“Come on, let’s get inside,” Eric said gruffly.

Kyle yawned and followed him inside like a lanky puppy. Eric reached up and switched on the light.

Kyle blinked. “Wow, nice. Very white and minimalist. Does the kitchen actually get used?”