Shane fiddled with the ring on Ilya’s chain. “What would you name your son?” “Roger Crowell.” Shane cracked up. “He’d love that.” “Roger Crowell Rozanov.” “Stop.” “Or...” Ilya rolled on top of him, grinning. “Roger Crowell Rozanov-Hollander.” “God, that’s a mouthful,” Shane said as his heart melted into goo. “Hollander-Rozanov is alphabetical, though, so...” “Sounds worse.” “Maybe we could combine our names. Hollanov. Rozander.” “Roger Rozander. Terrible name.” “We’re not naming our kid Roger, you sack of shit!” They both laughed, and then kissed until exhaustion made their mouths sloppy and
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