Heated Rivalry (Game Changers, #2)

by Rachel Reid

Rozanov stopped talking, but he managed to find an even more effective way of getting under Hollander’s skin: he winked.

He needed to dull it because he knew he sure wouldn’t be doing anything to fix this mess. He’d been trying for over six years.

“Fuck.” He kissed Rozanov again, rough and needy. God, he needed this. This horrible, fucked-up thing.

Hehehe

Montreal always put him on edge. It wasn’t nerves, it was...something else. Anticipation, maybe. He didn’t want to say excitement.

“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.

Ilya just wanted it all to be over so he could go...home. When had he started thinking of Boston as home?

Ilya didn’t like his father, but he hated watching him deteriorate.

When he laughed his nose crinkled, and Ilya’s stomach flipped.

Shane kind of couldn’t believe that Rozanov had made them both dinner. He found it, he realized with some horror, adorable.

And Shane knew he should ask whether or not everything was okay at home or something, but he was now consumed by one thought: No one makes me feel like Ilya Rozanov does.

And Ilya just...stared at him. At this oddly insecure superstar who was so beautiful and sweet and here.

Except Ilya was breathing Shane’s name—his first name—like a prayer and gazing at him like he was just as close as Shane was to saying something truly embarrassing and stupid and definite.

That admission would have been embarrassing enough, but Ilya had also slipped in an “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.”

He had the most ridiculous urge to send Ilya a text that just said I love you. He had those words trapped inside of him, filling every part of him, and, the strain of keeping them from slipping out was getting harder to endure.

Maybe he understood what he meant. Maybe some feelings couldn’t be hidden behind foreign words.

“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.”

and they would have no idea—no idea—how much of a relief it would be for Shane to have witnessed just that simple contact. To know that the two people he loved the most had touched the skin of Ilya Rozanov,

“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.

Shane raised his head slightly. “Boyfriend?” Such a ridiculous word. Such a ridiculous, wonderful word.

He wanted to tell Shane that the closest he felt to home was when he was with him.

“Ilya. God, Ilya. So good. Don’t stop. I love you.” In response, Ilya reached for his hand and tangled their fingers together. I love you so much. Don’t leave me.

“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.”

There were a lot of reasons why it would be messed up if the world could see them right now, but if the world could see them right now, they’d have to get it, right? They’d have to see that what he and Shane had together was real and good and unstoppable.