Heated Rivalry (Game Changers, #2)

by Rachel Reid

He propped himself up on his elbows so he could watch. Part of him wanted to lie back and close his eyes and let himself believe that it was anyone other than Ilya Rozanov making him feel so good. But most of him wanted to see exactly who it was.

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.

Rozanov was a lot of things, but he wasn’t boring. He frustrated Shane on the ice, and flustered him off the ice. Shane wanted to crosscheck him in the mouth, and then kiss it better.

“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.

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.

The truth—the truth that he tried so very hard to ignore—was that no one set him on fire like Shane Hollander. All of these women...they were gorgeous. Fun. Very sexy. But he didn’t think about them after they were gone. He didn’t long for them. With them, he could be sated.

“Should you really be alone right now?” Shane asked. “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.

“I think you just have a fetish for good boys.” Ilya laughed. “Is that what you are?” “That’s what you say,” Shane said. “What everyone says.” “Mm. But I know the truth about you. I was the one in that hotel room in Vegas with you, yes? No one else.”

“That crooked fucking smile of yours. I can’t even tell you...that smile haunts me.” “Haunts you? Like a ghost? That doesn’t sound like a good thing.” “It is. And your eyes. I love your eyes.” “So romantic, Hollander.” “Fuck you.

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

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

“Here, let me help you.” He crawled on his knees on the bed until he could press his mouth against Ilya’s stomach. He licked along the lines of Ilya’s muscles, and he heard Ilya let out a shaky breath.

“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.

Ilya loved these rare moments that Shane was able to get out of his head and just let go. He loved that he could make Shane do that. He loved Shane. God, he loved Shane.

He wanted to tell Shane that the closest he felt to home was when he was with him. It didn’t matter if it was in a hotel room, or Ilya’s apartment, or at that weird hideout building Shane bought in Montreal, or here at Shane’s cottage; he was himself when he was with Shane.