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.” “This can’t be good for your knee.” “My knee is fine,” Ilya scoffed. “And you are very light.” “I’m two hundred pounds!” “Sure you are.” “I am!” “Like you are five-ten.” “I am five-ten!” Ilya shook his head and stepped over the threshold.
