Heated Rivalry (Game Changers, #2)

by Rachel Reid

“I fucking hate you.” Shane leaned against him. “No you don’t.” Ilya sighed. No. He didn’t.

“Because you like to be bad, Shane Hollander.” And, whoa. Saying those exact words twisted something inside of Ilya. He was just teasing Shane, but he wondered how true those words were. Was that, perhaps, all this was to Shane: rebellion? Was that all he was to Shane? His worry must have shown on his face, because Shane stopped hitting him with the pillow. He pulled Ilya’s hand to his mouth, and kissed his palm. “That’s not why I do this. With you. Maybe it was when we started, I don’t know, but it isn’t now and it hasn’t been for a long time.”

“Is so annoying.” Ilya sighed, and Shane could see him fighting a grin. “Always I am with beautiful women. Wonderful women. Everywhere.” “Sounds rough.” “Yes. Listen. These women, they are so sexy and fun, but is no matter. I cannot stop thinking about this short fucking hockey player with these stupid freckles and a weak backhand.”

“And maybe...someday. When we both retire. We can...be together. For real.” Ilya looked stunned by that part. “You really think that far ahead, Hollander?” “I do about this.” “You want that? To be together?” “I do. So much it terrifies me.”

But Ilya turned back and quickly rolled on top of Shane and was kissing him and kissing him and kept murmuring the same thing in Russian over and over again until he pulled back and translated: “I love you.” Shane froze. And then Ilya froze. “Holy shit,” Shane whispered. It wasn’t how he had meant to respond. “I...” Ilya’s eyes were so wide and so scared. “I love you too,” Shane said.

And, oh, god, when Shane sank down on him, his whole body trembling with need, it was the most incredible thing Ilya had ever felt.

Shane braced himself with a hand on the headboard, and the other on Ilya’s shoulder, and used all of his considerable strength to ride the hell out of Ilya’s cock. He trapped Ilya’s hips between his solid thighs, and pounded that perfect ass down on Ilya’s lap over and over and fuck.

“What was your mother’s name?” Shane asked suddenly. His fingers were tracing the chain around Ilya’s neck. “Irina.”

“I love you.” “I love you too.” “Mm. Can you say it in Russian again?” Ilya pulled Shane’s hand to his lips and kissed his fingers. “Ya lyublyu tebya.” “Ya-loo-blue-tee-baa,” Shane murmured back.

“Is this the dock that you do yoga on?” he asked. “No, I don’t do yoga on here. This was just where the camera crew asked me to...wait. Did you watch that thing?” “Yes. Was great. I needed help sleeping.” “You’re an asshole.”

Then, very quickly, Shane’s dad turned on his heel and walked toward the front door of the house. Shane let go of Ilya and said, “Shit!” “Your father, yes?” “Yes! Fuck. Shit. Okay...”

“What the fuck am I going to tell them? So, you’re probably wondering why I was making out with Ilya Rozanov...” “Do you want me to come with you?” Shane was surprised by this offer. Did he want that? Would that make things even more awkward? He certainly felt like he could use the support. “I don’t know. Would you really do that?” Ilya took his hand and squeezed. “Yes. If it helps.”

“And he’s been...visiting. He’s...we’re, um...” What were they, exactly? It occurred to Shane that he and Ilya hadn’t even figured out what label they were comfortable with. “Lovers,” Ilya offered.

“When you and Dad play Yahtzee, do you let him win?” Shane asked desperately. “Never,” Mom smiled, maybe understanding. She seemed to relax.

“Oh my god!” Shane exclaimed. “You’re actually conflicted, aren’t you, Mom?” “What are you talking about?” “You’re bothered by his lack of loyalty to his team!”

“Oh, wow,” Shane said. “That is strong. I might need some cranberry juice or something.” “If you mix that with cranberry juice I will drown you in the lake.”

Ilya wanted to tell Shane that it had been one of the best days of his life. It had been awkward, sure, but Ilya felt that, if he hadn’t quite been already, he would be welcomed into Shane’s family, and that was no small thing. In fact, to Ilya, who had barely been welcome in his own family, it was huge.

“I am celebrating,” Ilya said. He tugged Shane’s shorts down until they hit the wood of the deck. “You should join me.” “Now? My head is racing! How can you even be thinking about sex right now?” “Because it is a beautiful day. And we are alone. And I met your parents. And I want you to calm the fuck down. And I love you.”

“I want to have a life with you. I know it will be awkward, and will still involve a lot of sneaking around for a while, but I’m playing the long game here. So, yeah. Whatever it takes, I’m in.”

God, were they really going to be able to keep this a secret until they were retired? Now that they were both honest about what they were to each other, Ilya feared it might be impossible to hide their relationship from the world.

Especially when Shane looked at him like he was looking at him right now—like Ilya was worth all this trouble. Like he was worth loving.

“Hi, Hayden,” Ilya said, grinning. “I still don’t like you, Rozanov,” Hayden said. “Oh no!” Ilya mocked him. “How can I impress Montreal’s fifteenth best player?” “Shane, I’m gonna punch him.”

When it was over, Shane pulled Ilya out of the room. He texted Hayden. Need you to guard the door again.

Ilya had been snarky about Scott Hunter’s lack of self-control, but sometimes he was dying to do the same thing.

“Yes,” Ilya agreed. “We should give you a tour. The master bathroom has a very good shower.” He looked directly at Hayden and winked. “Big enough for two.”

Hayden was sitting at one end of the sofa that faced them. Ilya could sit at the other end of the sofa, but he chose the more obnoxious option of perching on the arm of Shane’s chair. Instead of handing Shane his wine, Ilya draped his arm around Shane’s shoulders and hovered the glass in front of his lips.

“You’re intentionally bothering Hayden.” “Am not. I have not even asked his wife what she sees in him! I am being very good.” Shane’s face got stern and adorable. “Behave,” he warned. In response, Ilya kissed his forehead. “Always, moy lyubovnik.”

“We should cook together some time, Hayden.” “I suck at cooking.” “You suck at hockey,” Ilya pointed out. “But you still play it.”

This dinner was important to Shane, and Ilya knew the purpose of this evening was to make Jackie, and especially Hayden, understand what Shane saw in him. As far as Ilya was concerned, it wasn’t anyone’s business why Shane loved him. Ilya certainly didn’t need to convince anyone that he was worth Shane’s affection. Fuck them. It wasn’t his job, or Shane’s, to explain their relationship to anyone.

“You have not heard of bisexuals?” Hayden narrowed his eyes. “Bisexual, huh?”

“I can fuck you right here, moy vozlyublenniy.” “No. Fuck, maybe,” Shane panted. “What does that one mean?” “My horny animal,” Ilya lied.

Ilya Rozanov and his boyfriend, Shane Hollander. Ilya liked the sound of it. The idea of hockey commentators saying those words. Ilya Rozanov and his husband, Shane Hollander. Oooh. Better. Hollander passes the puck to his sexy husband, Ilya Rozanov... Okay. Maybe Ilya had gone a little heavy on the wine himself tonight.

Jesus. Ilya needed to buy a thank-you gift for Shane’s yoga instructor.