The Long Game (Game Changers, #6)

by Rachel Reid

“You know what? Fuck this. Take your dick out and get yourself hard while I watch.” Ilya was silent for a moment, blinking at the screen. Then, quietly, he said, “Yes. Okay.”

“You look hot.” “Probably.” Shane’s lips curved up and he added, “For a guy who just had his move stolen.” That made Ilya laugh and smile so wide his eyes crinkled.

“Me too. Wanna touch you. Wanna...fuck, I want to see you come.” Ilya spread his legs wider and leaned back more on the pillows behind him. “Put your glasses on, then.” “So I can see better, or because you’re hot for my glasses?” “Both.”

He made a show of opening the case, pulling the glasses out, unfolding them, and putting them on. Like a nerdy reverse striptease.

“How is this for interesting?” Ilya said when he’d stopped laughing. “I have not come for three days.” Shane’s eyebrows shot up. “Jesus. Are you okay?”

“Like you need it.” “Like you need it,” Shane mimicked with his best attempt at a Russian accent. “That is what I sound like? No wonder you are so hot for me. Sexy.”

“I love you.” Ilya’s expression turned serious, and for a moment Shane’s stomach clenched as if he expected Ilya to tell him something awful. But all Ilya said was, “I love you so much, Shane.”

It could be because I’m depressed. No. He was fine. Normal. It’s not like he ever stayed in bed all day crying. Neither did Mom.

And then, with no warning, Shane sent a pic of his crotch, his semi-hard dick visible under the gray fabric of his boxer briefs. Shane: Talk to you later. Ilya exhaled shakily and wrote, Fucker.

He landed on a competition reality show about strangers hooking up in some tropical location, which basically was a horror movie as far as Shane was concerned.

“Rozanov. He’s good with kids. Ruby and Jade love him.” “He basically is a kid, that’s why,” Shane said, though inside his heart was glowing.

He pulled into the Starbucks drive-thru, ordered a coffee with cream and sugar for himself and a black coffee for Luca Haas because he’d found that he liked the way Luca got flustered when Ilya gave him any attention at all. Ilya had always been against hazing or making rookies feel uncomfortable or bullied, but he got a kick out of being nice to the starstruck ones.

Then he got an idea. He took a few seconds to weigh the pros and cons, then stood up and announced, “Halloween party this year is at my house, okay?”

“He said he wants to wait, but he’s also said he’d come out anytime, if I wanted it.”

“It’s not! I like to practice discipline and self-control, and be rewarded for it. That’s all.” “That still sounds like it could be a sex thing.” Shane rolled his eyes. “Eat your poke.” “Is that an order, sir?” she asked in a husky voice. “Holy fuck! That doesn’t even make sense. Wouldn’t I be the submissive one in this fantasy you’re making up?”

“Someone might notice my heart eyes.” “Your what?” “Heart eyes. Hayden said I look at you with heart eyes.” Shane squirmed against his bedsheets. “When did he say that?” “At camp. I was staring at you and he said—”

“Do you have plans after the game?” Ilya asked casually. Shane’s smile grew. “I’m wide open.” Ilya hoped his own eyes showed the promise he was trying to silently transmit: you will be. The way Shane licked his bottom lip suggested the message had been received.

“Hollander giving you trouble?” Evan Dykstra, Ottawa’s best defenseman, asked when Ilya returned to the bench.

“Man,” Bood said as they skated to the bench, “this town hates you.” “Nah. They wish I played for them.” Bood laughed. “Hollander would hate that.” “My good friend Shane Hollander, you mean?” “There’s no way he likes you that much.” “He loves me,” Ilya said plainly. Honestly.

“You sure you’re okay?” Ilya gave him a quick smile that probably looked more like a grimace. “Maybe no kneeling for a few days.” Shane bumped right up against him. “I’ll have to make new plans, then.”

Ilya sucked in a breath, then wrote, You need something bigger. Shane: I know! That’s why you need turmeric. Shane: Need to hurry, I mean. Fucking voice-to-text.

Ilya practically flew up the stairs, and found Shane sprawled on the bed, naked and flushed and beautiful. “Chert voz’mi,” Ilya muttered.

It was all too much for Ilya. He made a last-second decision, pulled out, and gently lowered Shane to the mattress just in time for Ilya to shoot his load all over Shane’s chest.

“When you watch it, this is what you will see. Me saying nothing. I wanted to say you are fucking everything to me. Everything. Okay?”

By the plain, unguarded way Ilya would occasionally reveal what he held in his heart. Maybe English being Ilya’s second language made it harder to dress up his feelings with fancy words, but the raw honesty left Shane thunderstruck every time.

“Thank you for doing this,” Jackie said. “I know we ruined your day.” “Not ruined,” Ilya said honestly. “Just more interesting.”

“Is he your husband?” Ruby asked. Ilya flinched, nearly making Shane’s brush slip. “No.” “Are you his husband?” “That’s not how—” Shane said, then stopped himself. “We’re not married.” “Are you going to get married?” Shane locked eyes with Ilya, and Ilya saw the silent plea for help in them. “Do you think we should?” Ilya asked. “Do you love each other?” “We’re friends,” Shane said stiffly at the same time Ilya said, “Yes.” Jade grabbed her sister’s arm. “We could have a wedding today!”

Twenty minutes later, Shane was standing in the Pikes’ living room wearing a magician’s cape, a top hat, and holding a pink plastic heart-shaped ring. Ilya was standing next to him wearing a red sequined bow tie and a headband covered in flowers. He was holding an identical purple ring.

Then Ilya scooped Shane into his arms, bridal style. The same way he’d carried Jackie to the car earlier that day. “What the hell?” Shane said, though he knew he sounded more delighted than outraged. “Put me down!” Ilya grinned at him, and nudged the door open with his foot. “Is our wedding night.”

When they broke the kiss, Ilya said, “You will be a good dad.” Shane rested his forehead on Ilya’s shoulder and smiled. “Not as good as you.” Ilya huffed. “Not everything is a competition with us.” “We’d find a way to make parenting a competition.” Strong arms tightened around Shane. “No. It will be together. Peaceful.”

Shane, feeling brave, admitted, “There were moments today where I felt like I was looking into our future.” Ilya pulled back to meet Shane’s gaze. “And it was okay?” “It was amazing.”

“Thank you, moya gazonokosilka.” This was a game Ilya liked to play where he used random Russian words as pet names, to test Shane.

Ilya crossed his arms over his chest and mumbled something in Russian.

“You should not worry,” Ilya finally said, his gaze staying on the television. “I am okay.” Shane took his hand and squeezed. “You don’t have to deal with anything alone, all right?” Ilya swallowed hard. “Yes. Fine.” His hand was trembling.

The truth was, it was kind of sweet that Shane’s NHL teammate was trying to find him a man to date.

“Okay, you’ll meet David, or...” “David?” Shane decided to play this up as an end to the conversation. “My dad’s name is David. I can’t date a David!”

“It’s the sharing germs that bothers me, not the weed. But you guys are full-time disgusting, so I guess it doesn’t really matter.”

“Roz is never settling down,” Tanner said cheerfully. “He’s a fucking legend.” “Nah. He’ll meet the right one someday,” Bood said. “Boom! Head over heels. Won’t even know what hit him.”

The stragglers—mostly kids—made after-party plans and called cabs when they noticed Ilya glaring at them. He may have tarnished his reputation as a fun party guy, but he didn’t care.

Ilya kissed him again, then said, “You want to get fucked by a gladiator, Hollander?” Shane gazed up at him through his dark lashes. “I put a plug in before I left.”

Once Shane was naked, Ilya grabbed his thighs and hitched him up until Shane’s strong legs wrapped around Ilya’s waist. Ilya carried him to the living room like that, kissing him the entire way.

He’d learned to keep lube in most rooms of the house.

A weird giggle erupted out of Ilya. He covered his mouth quickly.

Ilya paced the waiting room outside Dr. Galina Molchalina’s office.

The only person he ever spoke Russian to was his friend with former benefits, Svetlana, but she lived in Boston and they hadn’t spoken much since Ilya had moved to Ottawa. He felt bad about that almost every day. He missed her.

He decided to stop at the weird healthy grocery store on the way home.

“What’s all this?” Shane asked. “We are cooking together. Like we used to. I found a recipe that is okay for you.” He picked up his iPad off the counter and showed Shane the recipe. Shane read it carefully, touched that Ilya had gone to this much trouble. “Looks good,” Shane said. Ilya beamed.

“For dessert,” Ilya said with a slight quirk of his lips, “we can look at a picture of cake.” Shane rolled his eyes. “Or...” Ilya leaned in suggestively. “Maybe there is something else you are craving?”

“This is why we need a sex tape. So you can see.” “No way. You would leak it immediately.” Ilya grinned. “Can you blame me?”

“I am going to buy one.” “Ilya, no. Don’t be a dick.” “Dear Hayden,” Ilya said aloud as he typed. “My boyfriend is sad because he has a very annoying coworker and needs to be cheered up. Could you send him a video and sing him his favorite song, ‘O Canada’?”