Heated Rivalry (Game Changers, #2)

by Rachel Reid

so instead he threw his head back against the wall like the eager slut he apparently was.

And Shane left. He realized, when he was back in his room, that they hadn’t even kissed. He also realized, with horror, that he regretted that.

😭😭😭😭😭😭

Resting against Rozanov like this, in his home, watching hockey, full of the food he had just made him...this was exactly what they weren’t supposed to be doing. This was what couples did.

Shane. He called me Shane.

The truth—the truth that he tried so very hard to ignore—was that no one set him on fire like Shane Hollander.

Except Ilya was breathing Shane’s name—his first name—like a prayer and gazing at him like he was just as close as Shane was to saying something truly embarrassing and stupid and definite.

“and on top of everything, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“I’m fucked,” he murmured in Russian. “I am so fucking in love and it’s horrible.”

The other path led to nothing but heartache and scandal and misery and...soft Russian words being breathed against Shane’s skin. It led to falling asleep with strong arms wrapped around him, and waking up to a lazy, crooked smile and playful kisses. It led to homemade tuna melts and the precious times when Ilya would offer Shane the tiny pieces of himself that he usually kept so carefully guarded. The game

okay and what if I’m sobbing???

“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.”