Heated Rivalry (Game Changers, #2)

by Rachel Reid

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.

Shane could see the tip of Rozanov’s cock poking out of the waistband, and he had the sudden, wild urge to kiss it. To press his tongue to the slit and taste him. Fuck. This was really gay.

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

“I am assistant captain, shithead. Do not tell me about your plan to break curfew.” “I thought that ‘A’ was for asshole.”

But maybe he hadn’t met the right girl yet. That was what he kept telling himself. It made complete sense to him; just because he hadn’t really had his mind blown in the bedroom by a woman yet didn’t mean it was impossible. There must be a girl out there somewhere who could make him feel like he did when he was with—

They held each other, both breathing heavily as they waited for their hearts to stop racing. But Shane didn’t think his heart would ever stop racing. 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.

He had never in his life been angry about someone sleeping with someone else. He was largely indifferent to most things. Was it just that Ilya liked his sex with a generous helping of danger, and Shane provided both? Or was he just being childish about having to share his favorite toy with a gorgeous movie star? Somewhere, buried deep in his brain, there was a third reason that was screaming for attention. Ilya ignored it.

That admission would have been embarrassing enough, but Ilya had also slipped in an “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.

He wished he could warp to Moscow. Just instantly appear in Ilya’s apartment and hold him and tell him it was all right to be conflicted about his father’s death. That he didn’t owe his family anything. That he should leave them all behind because they made him miserable and he doesn’t need them anyway.

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

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.”

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

He was never supposed to have fallen in love with Shane Hollander. He should have ended it long before because now it was going to hurt so fucking much.

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

Shane looked so happy. Somehow, Ilya made him happy. Ilya wanted to always make him happy.

“Mine.” Ilya’s breath tickled Shane’s skin when he spoke the single word. “Yours,” Shane said dreamily. “All of this. For two weeks. Is mine.” Forever, Shane wanted to say. Forever if you ask.

Oh. Ilya’s tongue was inside him. Warm and slippery and intrusive. It was somewhere it definitely was not supposed to be. But it felt so, so, so, so good. “Fuck. Fuck. Ilya...holy god. That’s amazing. Thank you. Fuck.” The thank you was embarrassing, but Shane didn’t dwell on it. Just like he refused to be embarrassed by the desperate noises Ilya was drawing out of him by fucking his ass with his tongue

The real actual truth—the truth that Shane mentally stomped on every time it dared try to get his attention—was that he wanted Ilya to meet his parents for the same reason anyone wanted their boyfriend to meet their parents: he loved him, and he wanted them to love him too.

“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.

Shane was beaming up at him, eyes bright and freckles crinkled, and Ilya loved him. And Shane loved him. Holy fucking shit. Shane Hollander is in love with me. He wanted to kiss him, but he couldn’t stop looking at him.

“I have been with lots of women. That was not...fake. But...” He looked at Shane, and Shane held his breath. “I have only been in love with one person.” And suddenly Ilya looked very blurry through Shane’s eyes. Shane swallowed down the urge to cry, and said, “Me too. Just one.”

“We are good here, yes?” he said. “Your family is here. And your boyfriend. And we are okay here.” Shane raised his head slightly. “Boyfriend?” Such a ridiculous word. Such a ridiculous, wonderful word. Ilya shrugged and grinned. “I think, yes?” “Yes.”

But now he had been reeled in by this annoying Canadian, and all that he knew was that he wanted to stay. He wanted to anchor himself to Shane and just...stay.

“Maybe I don’t think about how it is unfair because...” He paused a moment, trying to choose his English words carefully. “I feel lucky. This is more than I have ever had.”

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