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“You are very beautiful,”
“Such a mouth on you.” “Don’t say it.” “I preferred it when it was on me.”
Shane wanted Rozanov to touch him again. Shane wanted to touch him back. Maybe Shane wanted to kiss him.
“You will be seeing plenty of me.”
He wanted to go down to the hotel gym and find Shane Hollander on a treadmill.
He probably could have covered it up with his usual cocky charm, but he had been damn close to flirting with Hollander. Or possibly just pressing him against a wall and taking his mouth.
The thing was, he wasn’t so sure that Hollander would have hated it.
Unless Ilya was very bad at reading people—and he definitely wasn’t—Hollander probably would ...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
“Very pretty,”
“What were you thinking about?” Rozanov asked, his voice low.
“You,”
“You want to touch me, Hollander?”
“I might open the door.” Rozanov smiled. “I might knock.”
Fuck. This was really gay.
“Look at you.”
“Yes. Curious. And you make me curious.” “Oh.”
“Do I make you curious?”
Ilya told himself the twisted feeling in his stomach was just jealousy, but he was terrified that it was something much, much worse.
“You came anyway,” he said. “Yeah,”
“On your knees,”
Ilya just wanted to touch him.
Ilya hated this guy. He hated his pretty boy face and his perfect goddamned English and his perfect goddamned French and his loving parents and his polite little manners and his million-dollar smile. He hated how serious he was. How earnest. He was everything the league wanted from their stars.
“Come here,” Rozanov said. “No. You come here.”
so instead he threw his head back against the wall like the eager slut he apparently was.
“Good boy.” “Fuck you.” “Yes.”
Shane wanted to crosscheck him in the mouth, and then kiss it better.
Shane kissed him back, just as angrily. Because fuck this guy for doing shit like this.
Ilya liked it when Hollander was angry. He liked it when Hollander took out his frustrations on Ilya’s body. He liked him cursing him as he fucked Ilya’s mouth.
“Did you buy a building so we would have somewhere to fuck, Hollander?”
But Ilya didn’t let Hollander finish his sentence. He gripped Hollander’s arms and pushed him back against the closest wall and kissed him. Hollander had bought them a fucking building.
“Busy.” “Oh yeah? With who?”
“I’d like to look at you tonight, I think.
“Yes, sweetheart,”
“You could stay,” Rozanov said. “Stay?”
“Stay here. Tonight.”
“Stay.”
“I like girls.” “Yeah, no shit.” “But I also like you.” “Well, lucky me,”
No one makes me feel like Ilya Rozanov does.
He turned slightly and wrapped an arm around Shane, guiding him back to rest against his own chest. Shane was surprised, but he went willingly. Very willingly.
“Why do I need this so much?”
Shane. He called me Shane.
What scared Ilya was how desperately he wanted it to continue.
Ilya wanted to kiss him.
Ilya put his hand over his mouth to hide his ridiculous smile.
He looked magnificent.
“Found you,” said Ilya. “You were looking for me?”
“I mean...you feel it too, don’t you?”
“I can’t keep pretending I don’t like you,” he said finally. “You don’t like me,” Ilya argued. “I do. I... I maybe like you too much.”
“You look really fucking good,”
As soon as he had Shane in his arms, he was done for.
