Heated Rivalry (Game Changers, #2)

by Rachel Reid

The most hated man in Montreal: Ilya Rozanov. The near century-old rivalry between the Montreal and Boston NHL teams had, over the past six seasons, become personified by Hollander and Rozanov.

TEEHEEEEHEHEHEHEHEEEEE

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.

“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.”

screams

He held Shane’s face with one big hand and gazed down at him with hooded eyes. He murmured something in Russian and then said, “Look at you.”

Ilya’s hand shot out and gripped the headboard. It seemed like a nice headboard, sturdy. He expected he’d find out exactly how sturdy soon enough.

!!!

If Rozanov wanted a show, he was going to get a fucking show.

GIVE IT TO HIM

Shane. He called me Shane.

screams

He realized, suddenly, as if waking from a dream, that he was standing alone in the middle of a dance floor...not dancing. Just...staring. At Ilya. He couldn’t let Ilya notice him.

ALL THE THINGS SHE SAID ALL THE THINGS SHE SAID RUNNING THRU MY HEAD RUNNING THRU MY HEAD RUNNING THRU MY HEAD

“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?”

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

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEE

“I’m coming to the cottage.”

PACKING MY BAGS RN