Heated Rivalry (Game Changers, #2)

by Rachel Reid

Shane fucking hated him. But Rozanov was really good at sucking cock, and he was, for whatever reason, willing.

Maybe it was just that, after a life of playing at a level above everyone else, Shane had finally met his match. He was sure that was all it was.

Shane felt short. He had turned eighteen last month, but he felt like a kid. Rozanov had turned eighteen too. Just last week. Which Shane knew because he was obsessed with him.

Rozanov tapped Shane’s ankle with the bottom of his sneaker. “Hey. We will see a lot of each other.” It took Shane a minute. “Oh. Yeah. Montreal and Boston play against each other a lot.” “Should be interesting.”

Shane wanted Rozanov to touch him again. Shane wanted to touch him back.

For the rest of his life, Shane Hollander would have to live with the fact that he had ended his NHL draft day by getting himself off to thoughts of Ilya Rozanov.

“Are you getting tired of second place?” Rozanov smirked. “I’m winning this game,” Shane growled. “There is not an ‘I’ in team, right?” “There’s an ‘I’ in ‘suck my dick.’” Rozanov raised an eyebrow as they bent for the face-off.

“What is your room number?” Rozanov asked. “Fourteen ten,” Shane said, far too quickly. Rozanov’s mouth twitched up. “If I knock on door of room 1410 tonight...maybe around nine?” Shane fought to keep his voice even. “I might open the door.” Rozanov smiled. “I might knock.”

“Did you like sucking my dick?” “Oh, those English words you know?”

Ilya had always been this way. He loved sex, and he loved it more when it was dangerous—when it was with someone he knew he shouldn’t be with. Whether that was his coach’s son, or his brother’s girlfriend, or his teammate’s sister, Ilya couldn’t resist a bad idea. And Shane Hollander was a bad fucking idea. The worst idea. Wrong in every way imaginable.

“Come here,” Rozanov said. “No. You come here.” Rozanov grinned and shook his head, and stepped toward Shane. Shane must have taken a step forward himself because they kind of crashed into each other.

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

“Did you bring everything?” Rozanov asked. “Yes,” Shane said. He was pretty sure he had everything. Lube and condoms, right? “Good boy.” “Fuck you.” “Yes.”

“Fuck you for texting me before the game, you asshole!” Ilya grinned. “You were hard, weren’t you? For how long? The whole game?”

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.

The crowd was still loud in Philadelphia. This was not an easy city to silence.

Rozanov lowered himself until his nose was inches from Shane’s face. “Stay.” Shane couldn’t stay. There were probably a million reasons why he couldn’t stay. “Okay,” he said.

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.

He pulled Shane’s hand to his face and spit in his hand. Which was gross. But instead of making a face or bitching at him about it, Shane found it absurdly arousing.

Shane. He called me Shane. He pulled back so he could see Rozanov’s face, and was shocked to see him staring at him with the same wide-eyed terror that Shane felt. “Ilya,” he said, barely more than a whisper. Ilya didn’t answer. Instead, he crushed their mouths together and kissed Shane in a raw, uncontrolled way that felt like an apology.

She pulled her knees to her chest. “Are we going to fuck again, or should I get dressed? I’m cold.” Ilya considered her question, then shrugged. “I’m hungry. You should get dressed.”

Would he have shrugged if Shane had asked him if they were going to fuck again? Would he have turned down his chance to enjoy his body as many times as he possibly could? Don’t you dare put your clothes on, Hollander. I’m not done with you yet.

Shane looked at him. “If I tell you something, do you promise not to tell anyone? Or make fun of me?” Ilya felt an icy stab of dread in his stomach. He braced himself, and said, “Sure.” “I, uh...” Ilya waited for the words. I’m seeing someone. I’m engaged. I don’t need you anymore. “I hired a personal stylist.” For a moment, there was silence. Then Ilya burst out laughing. “Fuck off!” he said, delighted. “I shouldn’t have told you.” “No! I love it! Got tired of looking like shit?” “I didn’t—” Shane was trying to look angry, but Ilya could tell he was fighting a smile.

It was late and Shane knew he needed to go back to his own room, but he was in bed with Ilya. Not just in bed, but cuddled together, with Ilya gently stroking his hair. Shane was rolling Ilya’s crucifix between his thumb and his finger.

Ilya shook his head. “When will I have you for as long as I want?” Shane’s heart leapt. “I don’t know. As soon as possible?” “Yes.” Ilya leaned in and kissed him.

“Do you?” Ilya asked. God, his voice was sexy when he was sleepy, all frayed and throaty. He pressed a kiss to Shane’s palm. Shane closed his eyes, just to relieve one of his overstimulated senses. It would be so easy just to give in... “Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

Ilya said, “Good night. Shane.” A jolt of pleasure zipped through Shane’s body every time Ilya called him by his first name. “Good night, Ilya.”

He wanted a whole day with Shane. A weekend. A week. He wanted to be somewhere that no one could possibly interrupt them.

Shane: No. Come on. We both know that’s a bad idea. Lily: Everything we do is a bad idea. Come over.

Shane lowered his voice and said, “Maybe you could teach me Russian someday.” “Only useful phrases,” Ilya said. Shane could practically hear his crooked smile.

“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 am not alone,” Ilya said. “You are here now, yes?” Shane’s hand flew to his chest to make sure his heart was still beating; he could have sworn it had just melted into a gooey puddle.

Shane smiled. “It’s good to see you again.” “I’d like to see you wearing nothing but those glasses,” Ilya said.

“You are very beautiful,” Ilya said. Shane smiled without opening his eyes. “Come on.” “Is the truth. Your freckles.” Ilya grazed a fingertip over his own cheek. “I am nuts about them.” “I have no idea why. I hate them.” “Noooo...” Ilya moaned. “Hollander. They are stunning.” “Stunning?” “Yes. Am I not using that word right? Very beautiful. Um...take my breath?” “Wow. All right.” The skin under Shane’s freckles turned very, very pink. “The first time I met you. Those freckles...” “The first time? You mean at the World Juniors? In Saskatchewan?” “Yes.” Shane huffed out a surprised laugh. “You were such a dick to me.” “Mm. I did not like you. Just your freckles.”

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

“It’s sexy when you speak Russian. You know that?” “Because I don’t sound ridiculous? Like with my accent?” “Tell you a secret? Your accent doesn’t sound ridiculous. At all.” “No? You like it?” “I do. And I want to learn Russian. I wasn’t kidding about that.” “I’ll teach you.”

Shane kissed the tips of two fingers and reached out and touched them to the screen. And Ilya’s heart fucking stopped.

Shane was so completely in love with him. He would hit his head all over again just to be alone in that quiet hospital room with those careful fingers and those concerned eyes. He was in love with him and he could never, ever tell him that.

Ilya reached for the remote, and was about to turn off the television when... Holy shit. Holy. Shit. Scott fucking Hunter was kissing a man. Not, like, one of his teammates on the cheek in an “I love you, bro” kind of way. Scott Hunter was kissing a man wearing street clothes full on the fucking mouth. It looked like tongues were involved.

Jane: Holy shit. Jane: Are you seeing this? Jane: What the fuck?!!!? Is that his boyfriend???!!!!! Ilya just stared at the television, at Scott Hunter and his probable boyfriend.

Jane: What is happening??!!! Did he really just do that???!!! Ilya stabbed the call button. There was only one ring before, “Holy shit, Ilya! Can you belie—” “I’m coming to the cottage.”

They hadn’t been together for months. The ridiculous thing was, Ilya hadn’t been with anyone in all that time. For the first time in his life, he hadn’t wanted to be with anyone else.

Ilya cheated and murmured, “I would stay here forever if I could” in Russian. He felt Shane sigh around him, but it sounded more dreamy than exasperated. Maybe he understood what he meant. Maybe some feelings couldn’t be hidden behind foreign words.

Ilya couldn’t believe what he had been reduced to. He was...infatuated. It was disgusting.

Ilya wanted to always make him happy.

“There was a club having a Scott Hunter night, whatever the fuck that means.” “A club? Like...” “A gay club. Yes. So I thought I would go.” “I’m sorry. You went to a gay club in Las Vegas with Scott Hunter?” “And his boyfriend. Yes. Nice guy.”

Ilya shot the puck back to Shane. “It made me jealous,” he admitted. Shane laughed. “You wanna kiss me on television?” “Yes. After I win the Stanley Cup.” Shane spread his arms out. “Oh, so in this romantic scenario, you’ve just defeated me?” “Yes. Sorry.” “I’m not going to be in the mood to kiss you if I’ve just lost the Stanley Cup, Rozanov.” “But you would be so proud of me!” Shane rolled his eyes.

He breathed the last words against Ilya’s lips and then kissed him. It was slow and wonderful. “I want to sleep in your bed, Shane Hollander,” Ilya murmured. “I want to do lots of things in my bed.” “Show me. Take me to bed.”

“This is your parents,” Ilya said, pointing to a framed photo sitting on the dresser. “Yep.” With a playful little grin, Ilya flipped the photo so it lay facedown. “Do not want to shock them,” he said. Shane laughed.

“Don’t tease me,” Ilya said. “I have waited too long for this.” “Mm.” Shane opened the front of Ilya’s shorts and playfully nipped at his chest. “Months.” “Years,” Ilya sighed. “Years I have wanted to have you in your real bed.” Shane froze. “Years?” Ilya wrapped long fingers around Shane’s jaw, and tilted his head up to meet his gaze. “Yes.”