Heated Rivalry (Game Changers, #2)

by Rachel Reid

He opened the door. “What the fuck took you so long?” he asked, annoyed. “We were celebrating. Big win tonight, you know?” Shane stepped back to let the tall, smirking Russian man into the apartment. “I got away as soon as I could,” Rozanov said, his tone less teasing. “Didn’t want to draw attention, right?” “Sure.” And that was the last word Shane got out before Rozanov’s mouth crashed into his.

wait what?!

willing. Their lives being what they were, this was not an easy thing to get. Maybe, when they had started seven years ago, they hadn’t expected their lives, their famous rivalry, to get to the point it was at now.

WHAT?!

“You are very beautiful,” Rozanov said suddenly. It was said very matter-of-factly.

this is sooo sweeet!!!

Some of his features were clearly from his mother—jet-black hair and very dark eyes—but his father was of some bland, Anglo-European heritage. His skin, however, was flawless.

hahahahha i dont know why i think this is both sweet and funny

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

OH MY GOD!!! :D

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.

HAHAHAHAHAHA YESSSSSSS! i am living for moments like these

He didn’t want to live with his father, or depend on anyone anymore. He wanted to be rich and famous and loved and have a huge garage full of sports cars. He wanted expensive clothes and gorgeous women and hot nightclubs. He wanted the weight of his family, and his country, lifted. He wanted to be himself.

my guy just wants to be hapy!!!!!

“Fuck off,” Shane grumbled. “It’s nothing.” “Like what you see, Hollander?” “No. It’s not... I was thinking about something else.” Shane wanted to die. He knew he didn’t sound at all convincing. “Something else?”

oh do i love a man with a smart mouth

“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.”

omg why is this actually adorable

Fuck. This was really gay.

very gay...proceed

Rozanov looked at him, and Shane knew he was deciding whether or not he could trust him, and then must have realized it was too late anyway if he didn’t. He nodded. “In Russia. My coach’s son.”

IM SORRY WHAT

“Do you feel pressure to outperform Shane Hollander this first season?” the interviewer asked. “Who?” Fuck. You. Rozanov.

HAHAHHAHAHAHA LOVE IT

He’s better at blow jobs than me.

welllll hes got you there but we can fix that Shane!!

“You are embarrassed.” “Well!” “You don’t play with your ass? It makes you gay?” “Oh my fucking god...” “You know what makes you gayer?” “Rozanov...shut the fuck—” “Sucking my dick. You were doing that a minute ago.” Hollander sat up. “I’ve played with it, all right? I’ve—I’ve got a...thing.” “A thing?” “A dildo! Okay?” Ilya grinned so hard it hurt. “What color?” “Fuck you!” “Is it big?” “I’m leaving.”

hahahahahahaha this is great

“I know we said...about Montreal...but...” Ilya crossed his arms and leaned against a wall. “We probably shouldn’t,” Hollander finished. “No?” “No. I mean...obviously, right?” Ilya watched Hollander run a nervous hand through his damp hair. “It’s stupid,” Hollander said, more to himself than to Ilya. “This is stupid. I don’t know why we did this. Again.”

ummm no we should ABSOLUTELY do Montreal

Hollander blew out a breath. “Okay. Well...bye.” “Good night.” Hollander nodded. And left.

damn why do i feel like a dirty secret

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

thats fhe whole point Shane!!!!

“Hit the showers, Hollander,” Rozanov said as he left the bathroom. “I will get dressed and leave.” “Oh,” Shane said. Of course he was going to leave. What the fuck had Shane been expecting? He stood up. “Yeah. Okay. Well...”

WHAT?! nooooo

He wanted to win this fucking Rookie of the Year award. He wanted to rub it in Rozanov’s face. He wanted to rub himself on Rozanov’s face.

this is just AHHH HAHAHAHAH

“No,” he said. “No way. Not here. What’s wrong with you?”

dont be mean to him!!!

Ilya frowned at the abandoned-looking three-story building the cabdriver had delivered him to. He checked the address again, and confirmed that it was the same as what Hollander had texted him. The fuck?

why does this make me so sad

“I hate you.” “Yes. I know. Show me.” “Fuck,” Hollander whispered, seemingly to himself. Then he parted his lips, and licked the moisture off Ilya’s slit.

oh my god!!!

“Fuck. Fuck. You have to stop. If you want me to fuck you...” Hollander ripped his mouth away from Ilya’s cock, but then he went very still. “Shit. Oh god. Fuck.” Ilya felt wetness splash against his thigh. Hollander’s body jerked a couple of times, and then he buried his face in Ilya’s shoulder. “Fuck.” “Hollander?” “I’m sorry,” he groaned. “I can’t believe I just...you didn’t even touch me!” And Ilya just...laughed. Because it was fucking funny. “Don’t fucking laugh at me.” “Been a while?” Ilya teased.

hands freeeee?!

“Hey,” Shane said. Rozanov looked at him and shook his head. “Not here,” he said tightly. “No, I’m not... I just wanted to see...how you’re doing.” “Fine. Go. Sit down.”

:(

“Fuck, Rozanov. What the fuck? We’re on in like five seconds!” “Fifty seconds. We are fine.” “Does it matter to you that everyone backstage has been having a heart attack looking for you?” “Not really.” Shane’s hands rolled into fists at his sides. “Where were you, anyway?” “Busy.” “Oh yeah? With who?” Rozanov just smirked. “We’re on.”

oh you cocky prick

“No.” He let go of Shane, and stepped back. “What?” Shane sputtered. “No. I will not do anything to you in here. We will go back out there, and sit in our seats, and then go to the party. And then, when you have been waiting all night for it, you will come to my hotel room. And I will maybe do more than suck your dick.”

WHAT A TEASEEEEE

“Touch yourself.” “What?” “Show off for me. Let me watch you.” “You—what?”

my god this man!

“I should sleep,” he said finally. “Oh. Yeah. I should... I need to get going, anyway.” “Yes.”

CRYING AND DYING ON THE INSIDE

Later, when they were fucking, Shane braced himself with a hand flat on Rozanov’s chest. Rozanov covered that hand with his own, which surprised Shane. Rozanov never took his eyes off his face, except to watch when Shane started stroking himself.

HOW IS IT HAPPENING AGAIN...getting emotional over a spicy scene

Shane’s eyes opened. Rozanov was looking at him seriously again. “You want me to stay here?” Rozanov seemed to realize what he had just asked, because his face changed and he shrugged, forcing a half grin. “I’m not done with you yet.” “Oh.” That was more familiar. “I can’t stay. You know that.” “You could. The game is tomorrow afternoon. No morning practice.” “I told Hayden—” Rozanov rolled his eyes. “Is Hayden your mother?” “No. But he’s...expecting me. I told him I was meeting a friend.” Rozanov snorted. “That was a lie.” Shane laughed at that. “Yeah. Well.” 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.

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!

Rozanov didn’t reply for a moment. Then he turned back to the television and said, “I like girls.” “Yeah, no shit.” “But I also like you.” “Well, lucky me,” Shane grumbled. “Not as a person, of course,” Rozanov teased. “But you have a good mouth.” He took a suggestive bite of his dill pickle.

hahaha

Shane. He called me Shane.

my goodnesssss :D

Shane untangled himself from Ilya and stood. “I should go.” It was an understatement. Shane needed to get the fuck out of there. Immediately. He clumsily tucked himself back into his jeans as he staggered backward, away from Ilya. Shit, where did I leave my underwear? “Go?” “Yeah... I...uh, I shouldn’t stay. I can’t. We can’t. This is...” Ilya shifted on the couch, stretching one arm across the back and resting his ankle on his knee, casual as anything. “This is nothing, Hollander.” Hollander. You called me Shane. “I know. I just...team meeting in the morning. I forgot.” That made Ilya laugh. It wasn’t warm. “You forgot about a team meeting? Sure.”

DONT HURT ME! yall are beautiful together