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“I have ruined you,” Rozanov said when they broke apart. “No one else will do.” “Fuck off.” “Such a mouth on you.” “Don’t say it.” “I preferred it when it was on me.”
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.
We were supposed to stand alone at the top, but we will always be there together. We will keep climbing until no one else can reach us, but it will always be together.
“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.”
Fuck. This was really gay.
He murmured something in Russian and then said, “Look at you.” Shane’s face flushed.
Rozanov gave a crooked grin and shrugged. “I like trouble.” Shane laughed. “Well, I think we’ve found it.”
“Did you like sucking my dick?” “Oh, those English words you know?”
“You think I’m an asshole,” Rozanov said. “You are an asshole.” “I would not leave you like that.” “No?” He kissed him again. “No.”
“You don’t play with your ass? It makes you gay?” “Oh my fucking god...” “You know what makes you gayer?” “Rozanov...shut the fuck—” “Sucking my dick. You were doing that a minute ago.”
Shane wanted to tell him to fuck off, but Rozanov was kissing his throat, scraping his teeth over the sensitive skin, so instead he threw his head back against the wall like the eager slut he apparently was.
“This is soft,” Rozanov murmured. “It’s cashmere,” Shane said stupidly. “Yes. Take it off.”
“Good boy.” “Fuck you.” “Yes.”
“Just relax, Mr. Lots-of-Sex,” Rozanov said. “I will make sure you are ready for me.”
Hollander was damn cute when he was embarrassed. “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.
“I hate you.” “Yes. I know. Show me.”
And Shane left. He realized, when he was back in his room, that they hadn’t even kissed. He also realized, with horror, that he regretted that.
“Yes, sweetheart,” Rozanov panted,
“Oh god. Shane...”
Shane. He called me Shane.
“Ilya,” he said, barely more than a whisper.
Ilya shook his head. “When will I have you for as long as I want?” Shane’s heart leapt. “I don’t know. As soon as possible?”
Lily: Everything we do is a bad idea. Come over.
“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.
“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.”
“You. He wasn’t 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.
He quickly left the hospital room of the man he loved, and forced himself to focus on winning the Stanley Cup.
And Shane chickened out. Because he couldn’t tell them that the right one had come along, and it was the pissed-off Russian man who was currently heading to the penalty box on their television.
How could it possibly be real? But there Hunter was, smiling at this mystery man like he was the only thing that mattered in the world. And holding his face as he leaned in to kiss him again. Ilya felt like he was watching all the worst things about his life getting sucked up by a tornado. Then the cameras cut away, and Ilya looked at his phone. Jane: What is happening??!!! Did he really just do that???!!! Ilya stabbed the call button. There was only one ring before, “Holy shit, Ilya! Can you belie—” “I’m coming to the cottage.”
Ilya couldn’t believe what he had been reduced to. He was...infatuated. It was disgusting.
“I want to sleep in your bed, Shane Hollander,” Ilya murmured. “I want to do lots of things in my bed.” “Show me. Take me to bed.”
“This is your parents,” Ilya said, pointing to a framed photo sitting on the dresser. “Yep.” With a playful little grin, Ilya flipped the photo so it lay facedown. “Do not want to shock them,” he said. Shane laughed.
“Don’t tease me,” Ilya said. “I have waited too long for this.” “Mm.” Shane opened the front of Ilya’s shorts and playfully nipped at his chest. “Months.” “Years,” Ilya sighed. “Years I have wanted to have you in your real bed.” Shane froze. “Years?” Ilya wrapped long fingers around Shane’s jaw, and tilted his head up to meet his gaze. “Yes.”
“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.
“I like you, Hollander.” It wasn’t an earth-shattering confession, but the words still moved Shane enormously. “I like you too, Rozanov.”
If Shane removed all of the complications of their relationship—the rivalry, the expectations for both of them, the fact that Ilya was kind of a dick—he could just be proud of the fact that the man was really hot. Like, Shane had definitely snagged himself a ten.
“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.
“Does it...does it feel like agony for you too?” Ilya started to nod, then stopped. He shook his head slowly instead. “Not anymore.”
“I feel like... I am dreaming?” “You’re not. I love you.”
“She would have loved you.” “I wish I could have met her.”
“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.”
“We are good here, yes?” he said. “Your family is here. And your boyfriend. And we are okay here.”
“Since their rookie season,” Shane heard his mother say. “I can’t believe it.” “Looking at them now, I kind of can,” his father said.
“And I will say, ‘Shane Hollander, will you please marry me so I can become Canadian citizen faster?’”
“And you will say yes, because you are a nice, helpful guy.” “No,” Shane said, taking his hands. “I will say yes because I will still be madly in love with you. And I’ll want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“I want to have a life with you. I know it will be awkward, and will still involve a lot of sneaking around for a while, but I’m playing the long game here. So, yeah. Whatever it takes, I’m in.”
