The Long Game (Game Changers, #6)

by Rachel Reid

Suddenly, Ilya was right beside him, drenched in sweat, T-shirt balled up in one fist. Ilya winked at him before speeding past him like a cartoon character.

“We are together at your cottage. You are gay. I am hot.”

“Can’t say I predicted this when I woke up this morning. May I ask how long you’ve been together?” Shane and Ilya shared a smile, then Ilya said, “A long time. Years.”

He didn’t want to be a gay icon, or deal with any of the attention they would get from the hockey world—both good and bad—if they ever disclosed their relationship, but he wished he could love Ilya openly without dealing with any of that.

he was willing to play the long game when it came to their relationship

It was early, and Shane had probably barely slept and was tied into even more knots than usual, so Ilya decided to let the insensitive comment go. He knew Shane hadn’t meant anything by it.

“I’m worried about Hayden too,” Shane said. “Kissing you?” “No! Giving us away, I mean.” Ilya huffed. “Is possible. He is not smart.”

“Tell me in Russian.” Shane’s nose scrunched up in concentration. “Um...ty ochen’ krasiv?”

“I do not have to try to get you all turned on, moy lyubimyy.”

Ilya felt a lot of things at once, both from the way Shane’s track pants pulled tight against his thigh muscles, and from the warmth that bloomed in Ilya’s chest whenever he watched Shane interact with children.

He made a mental note to wear Shane’s identical ball cap tomorrow, because it would make Hayden furious, and said, “You lead the next passing drill. You are good at passing.”

Ilya hadn’t realized how much fun it would be to confuse Hayden with compliments. He would have to do it more often.

Even from here, Ilya could see the flirtatious smiles the man was giving Shane. Or maybe they were just regular smiles and Ilya was being ridiculous.

And then the fucker placed a hand on Shane’s arm. There was no good reason for Ilya to skate down the ice with one of the pucks and fire it at the glass behind Shane’s head, but he did it anyway.

And Ilya wanted to stop feeling embarrassed about doing it. It had been immature and petty and unprofessional. He still didn’t want to apologize, though.

“Why’d you do it? Because Laurent’s handsome?” “Laurent.” Ilya took a triumphant step toward him. “So you are attracted to him.”

“What did you really think was going to happen?” Ilya shrugged. “Maybe you would think he was nice. Hot. Not a rival hockey player.” He was terrified that one day Shane would realize he could be with someone who wasn’t a dark secret. That it could be easy to love someone.

“Shane—” “No. Shut up. If you really don’t get that I’m not going to leave you for the first cute guy who smiles at me, then I don’t know what we’re even doing, Ilya.”

And they’d gone to the Pikes’ house once, which had been fun because Ilya had been able to play with their four awesome kids and ignore Hayden.

“We are going to ask about a double date with him and his boyfriend, maybe.” Yuna placed her hands on Ilya’s shoulders and squeezed, once. “I love that idea.” Ilya bit his lip to contain his smile. He really liked Shane’s family.

“I’m helping,” Ilya couldn’t resist pointing out. “I know you are.” Yuna patted his cheek. “That’s why you’re my favorite son.”

It felt, as it always did to Ilya, wonderful and surreal at the same time. He’d never expected to have this domestic comfort in his life. Not with anyone. He’d never expected to be part of a family, and have parents again.

He closed his eyes and focused on how good it felt to be with Shane, alone in the dark, and tried not to wish it could be the same in the light.

Shane realized that he’d basically trapped Ryan in a small space and unloaded a bunch of weirdness on him, which probably wasn’t an ideal situation for someone with clinical anxiety.

“I didn’t get the chance to last year.” Ryan finally smiled at that. “He’s nothing like me. No one can believe we’re together.” “I know the feeling.”

He’d surprised Shane with it a couple of months ago and had blamed being bored while Shane was in the playoffs, but Shane knew it wasn’t something Ilya had gotten out of boredom.

Fabian Salah was pretty. He had warm, golden skin and silky dark hair that was cut short on the sides, but long enough on top to fall into his dark eyes, which were decorated with makeup. He was wearing a black lace tank top that fit close to his slim torso, and had a heart-shaped diamond pendant hanging from his elegant neck.

“You should see him perform. He’s playing a show on Friday night here in town if you—um. I mean.” “I can put you on the guest list,” Fabian said easily. “Don’t worry about it if you choose not to go.” “I already bought tickets,” Ilya said. “For us both.” The hell? “You did? You didn’t tell me.” “Surprise.”

“It’s just a bar. Club. Whatever,” Fabian said with a wave of his elegant hand. Then he leaned in and, with a mischievous grin, said, “But it will be gay by the time I’m done playing.”

“I am bisexual,” Ilya said, nodding. “Shane is super gay.” “I’m regular gay,” Shane argued.

“Over ten years, though,” Shane clarified, “depending on your definition of ‘together.’” “That’s a long time to keep a secret,” Fabian said thoughtfully. “Isn’t that a distraction too? Having to hide?”

Maybe keeping how he felt about Ilya a secret was more draining than facing the backlash.

Shane couldn’t imagine hockey ever making him feel bad, but Ryan had a very different career from his own.

“We are very good at pretending to not be in love. Maybe we are bad at showing it when we are allowed.”

“Sometimes. I barely know what I’m doing most days, but I love them and would do literally anything for them, so that’s something, I guess.” Ilya glanced down at the remains of his own sandwich. He made fun of Hayden a lot—for a million different reasons—but he secretly admired his ability to parent four young children.

They hadn’t had sex all week because Shane didn’t want his mom to hear, and Ilya was crawling out of his skin. Shane dodged him. “No way. We’re not making that mistake again.” “I like making mistakes with you.” “You can make mistakes on the ice. As usual.”

“I’m glad you’re such a show-off,” Shane said. Ilya patted his back. “I am glad you get hard so easily.”

Ideally Ilya would be behind Shane with his arms wrapped around him, holding him close against his chest. Ilya would rest his chin on Shane’s head, and kiss his hair whenever he felt the urge.

Sometimes Ilya was so starved for touch he felt like screaming. He felt it most when Shane was close, like he was now, but off-limits.

But he didn’t mind waiting. The forbidden aspect of their relationship—the discipline it took to hide how hot they were for each other—still did it for Shane. It was sexy.

Also, Ilya was massaging Shane’s dick through his pants as he drove.

Shane was studying Russian. “Enough,” Shane said, also in Russian. “I’m ready.”

“Love your dick,” Shane panted. He had one hand planted on Ilya’s chest, the other gripping the back of Ilya’s left thigh. “Love taking you like this.” “You just love,” Ilya gritted out, “exercise.”

“I think,” he said, in Russian, “you need to be fucked properly.”

It was a bit disappointing, if he was being honest, that Ilya didn’t care more. He missed actually competing against Ilya.

“Yahtzee!” Ilya yelled. He raised his arms in triumph. “I don’t know why we invite you over,” Yuna grumbled.

“Ya lyublyu tebya.” “Ya vsegda budu tebya lubit,” Shane replied.

“His hair is too long,” Yuna complained. “No,” Ilya said quietly. “It is perfect.”

And then, Shane winked at the camera. Winked. And Ilya knew it was meant for him. “That’s my move!” Ilya said.

He’d known his little stunt on the ice would make Ilya horny as hell.