Heated Rivalry (Game Changers, #2)

by Rachel Reid

freckles. Every now and again, Ilya would kiss Shane’s jaw, or his throat, or, one time, the tip of his nose. 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.

Ilya reached the base of Shane’s spine, and Shane expected him to pull away, maybe grab the lube. But instead, Ilya did something he had never done before: he kept going. His tongue slipped into the crease of Shane’s ass as his big hands pulled his cheeks apart.

Shane was going to come. The realization hit him suddenly, and, in a panic, he jerked his hips off the bed to remove any friction against his aching cock. Unfortunately, the move also caused him

to smash Ilya in the face with his ass. “Aah! What the fuck, Hollander?” “Sorry!”

For long moments, neither of them moved. They both panted and gazed at each other, and there were words that Shane was dangerously close to saying. He could feel them, thrashing around inside him, desperate to get out, but he forced them down. And then Ilya placed a palm on the side of Shane’s face and just looked at him, and for a wild second Shane thought Ilya was going to be the one to say those forbidden words. But he didn’t. Instead, he pulled out of him and fell on the mattress beside him. Shane rolled to his side, and Ilya did the same, facing him. Shane smiled because the last time he’d had this view of him, Ilya had been in Moscow, and Shane had been in Montreal. “We could stay in this bed for two weeks,” Shane suggested. Ilya shook his head. “No. I want to fuck you in every room of this house.”

“You’re really going to make fun of me now? While you’re a guest in my home? In my bed?” Shane was assaulted by a lazy, crooked smile. “No,” Ilya said. “I like you, Hollander.” It wasn’t an earth-shattering confession, but the words still moved Shane enormously. “I like you too, Rozanov.”

These were the thoughts that kept Shane awake at night. Total and complete madness. His deepest, most closely guarded desire was to just have his parents make contact with the man he’d been secretly fucking for seven years. Part of him felt that, if it happened, something would become clear. Something would finally make sense. 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.

Shane had taken advantage of the moment, while Ilya had still been asleep, as an opportunity to drink his fill of him. Ilya had been on his back, his arm draped over his forehead, his long fingers curled against the pillow. Shane had traced a fingertip down that arm, over the swell of Ilya’s bicep, because he couldn’t help it. The morning light was making everything beautiful, and Shane was in love, so he had leaned in and lightly kissed Ilya’s wrist.

He’d give anything to go back to the simplicity of the early days, when all that consumed him was the confusing desire to have Ilya’s dick in his mouth.

For seven years, they’d been getting away with this thing. Their luck had to run out sometime, right?

Shane’s phone suddenly lit up, the screen startlingly bright in the dark that surrounded them. When Shane glanced at the screen, his face lit up almost as brightly. “What?” Ilya asked. He couldn’t help it. “Oh,” Shane said absently as he typed something. “Nothing. Just a message from Rose.” Ilya snorted. Rose. “What does Rose want?” “She’s just checking in. She—hey. You’re not jealous, are you?” “No.” It was the least convincing lie ever.

“Ilya. I’m gay.” “Not too gay to fuck Rose Landry.”

It was so eerily quiet—just the crackling of the fire, the occasional lap of water from the lake, and— A fucking wolf. That was a fucking wolf howl. “What the fuck was that?” Ilya said. He couldn’t conceal the terror in his voice. But who the fuck cared, because they were surrounded by hungry wolves! Shane laughed. “It’s a loon.” “A what?”