Heated Rivalry (Game Changers, #2)

by Rachel Reid

That maybe he watched Shane’s games and was secretly proud when Shane did well. Because that’s how Shane felt when Ilya had a good night. Which was ridiculous.

Shane got showered and changed faster than he ever had in his life. He found a private corner of the hallway outside the dressing room and did something he’d never done before: he called Ilya Rozanov.

He wanted Ilya to know he was concerned. But Ilya did answer. “Hollander?” “Yeah. Hi.” There was a long silence. “Are you okay?” Shane asked finally. He heard Ilya huff out a humorless laugh. “I don’t know.”

“I’m so sorry, Ilya.” He didn’t know what else to say. Ilya didn’t reply, but Shane could hear a sharp sniff, and then a tight, throaty noise. “Ilya—” “I will be back in a few days. I should go.”

“Wait,” Shane said, way too loudly. Ilya waited. “Just...call me, all right? If you need to talk. Or text me. Whatever. But... I’ll listen. I want to help, if I can.” Ilya was silent for a moment. “You did. Thank you.” He ended the call.

“I wish... I wanted him to... I don’t know.” He sighed again. “English is too hard today.” “I’m sorry. I wish I spoke Russian.” “You could probably learn it in a week,” Ilya grumbled. “Perfect. No accent.”

He was about to ask if Ilya had anyone there in Moscow that he could talk to, but it was pretty obvious that he didn’t. Why else would he be calling Shane?

Shane was suddenly struck by a ridiculous idea. Or maybe it was a brilliant idea. He decided to share it before his brain had a chance to figure out which. “Tell me everything you want to say,” he said. “In Russian. I won’t understand but...maybe it will help?”

The next several minutes were filled with Ilya’s voice, sounding more animated and flustered than Shane had ever heard him. He was used to Ilya saying more with a teasing smile or a calculating look than with actual words. But now it was like a dam had burst, and Shane sat himself on the stairs and let it wash over him.

The words were so quick and confident, unrestricted by Ilya having to carefully piece together his sentences like when he spoke English. It felt intimate—like they were somehow sharing a bigger secret now than when they slept together. And there was something undeniably sexy about hearing Ilya speak so fluidly in his mother tongue.

Shane lowered his voice and said, “Maybe you could teach me Russian someday.” “Only useful phrases,” Ilya said. Shane could practically hear his crooked smile. Then Ilya purred something in Russian. “What does that mean?” Shane asked. “Get on your knees.”

“And what other useful phrases could you teach me?” Ilya laughed. “I can think of many, Hollander.” Shane shifted on the stairs. “I wish you were here now.” Shane couldn’t believe he had actually allowed himself to say that out loud.

He felt his mortification melt away when Ilya said, in a low voice, “Me too.”

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.”

It was saying those words out loud, even more than venting his frustrations about his family, that had truly made Ilya feel lighter.

It was a secret he had been carrying for far too long, locked away so deep inside that he had even been keeping it from himself. But as soon as he let himself acknowledge it, and now say it, he felt relieved. Not because he could do anything about t...

That wasn’t why he had asked Ilya to unload on him in Russian. He was being a friend. A friend? Sure, Ilya could admit that he and Shane were friends now. He had certainly been the only person Ilya could think of when he’d decided he needed to talk to someone today.

Shane had barely gotten in the door of his apartment before he texted Ilya. He had been thinking about him all day.

Shane didn’t like the idea of Ilya being alone right now.

“Should you really be alone right now?” Shane asked. “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. He wished he could warp to Moscow. Just instantly appear in Ilya’s apartment and hold him and tell him it was all right to be conflicted about his father’s death.

them anyway. Instead he said, “Yeah. I’m here.” “And where else are you?” Ilya asked. “I’m home now. Montreal.”

“Tell me about your home, Hollander,” he said in a tired voice. “What does it look like? I try to imagine it...” “You do?” “You will not let me see it.” “That’s not...” Shane grimaced. “It’s not because I don’t want you here. You know that.” “I know nothing.

Hey, I made a donation to the Alzheimer’s Society of Canada. For your father.” Ilya was quiet a moment. “That is nice of you. Might be good for me. Can be...what is the word...passed on?” “Hereditary?” “Yes. Hereditary.”

“We should get married,” Ilya said. “What?” Shane flushed right down to his toes. “Not to each other,” Ilya said. Then he started laughing and couldn’t stop.

Marriage would be like business deal, yes? Just until I am citizen.” “You don’t love her, then?” “No,” Ilya said quietly. He sounded like he was falling asleep. “Not her. No.”

You’re not going back to Russia, so...come to my cottage with me. It’s quiet, and beautiful and...private.” For a moment, Ilya didn’t say anything, and Shane thought he really had fallen asleep. “I will think about it,” Ilya said finally. “Okay.”

It also occurred to him that his heart was beating like he was in the middle of a run, and his mouth was dry. He had actually just invited Ilya to his cottage! The fact that he had even done that was absurd, but what if Ilya actually accepted?

What if he had Ilya all to himself at Shane’s favorite place in the world? If there was no one to interrupt them, no one to hide from, no one to remind them of all the reasons they shouldn’t want each other...

It would be too much. Shane would never be able to hold back everything he had been trying to pretend he didn’t feel. He would blurt something out that he would never, ever be able to take...

He didn’t want their relationship to be nothing but sex. He wanted to comfort Ilya when he was sad, and talk to him on the phone, and snuggle together on the couch and watch movies. He would take the short phone call they had just shared over any of their sexual encounters. Well, almost any of their sexual encounters. Shane groaned and fell back on his bed, covering his face with his hands. He was super fucked.

He was wearing a hoodie and...glasses? “Holy shit, Hollander! Do you wear glasses?” “Oh!” Shane reached up and touched the frames of his glasses, as if he didn’t believe Ilya. “Just when I read. It’s, um...new.” He pulled them off. “No!” Ilya said, grinning. “I like them.” “Well...” Shane said, and damn if he wasn’t blushing already.

“What were you reading? Your boring hockey book?” Shane’s eyes narrowed behind the glasses. “Are you just calling to make fun of me?” “No. Not only that.” He watched Shane bite his bottom lip. God, he’s cute.

“How are you? I’ve been...thinking about you.” Ilya’s heart flipped. He hoped it didn’t show on his face.

Ilya wanted, more than anything, to be able to cover Shane’s body with his own. To kiss his way down his chest and stomach.

Shane smiled. “It’s good to see you again.” “I’d like to see you wearing nothing but those glasses,” Ilya said. “I don’t think my camera can show that much at once.” “Next time we are together, then.” “Yeah. Next time.”

“It was memorable.” “It was,” Ilya agreed. “You put on a show for me.” “I can’t believe you talked me into that.” “I think you like to be told what to do, Hollander.” Shane sucked in a breath. “Maybe. A little.”

“And you’re a little show-off.” “I am not.” “You are. You love praise. You want everyone to see how good you are.” “Yeah, well. So do you.” “No. I know I am good. I don’t care what people say.”

“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.” “Mm. But I know the truth about you. I was the one in that hotel room in Vegas with you, yes? No one else.”

Shane obeyed immediately, which Ilya found incredibly hot.

“I wish you were here,” Shane said, before Ilya could.

He loved a lot of things about him.

Ilya knew it must be wet; Shane always leaked like a fountain.

“No. But... I think I’d rather see your face.” Ilya was grateful that Shane couldn’t see his face at that exact moment, because he was pretty sure it had the world’s sappiest expression. “Sure, Hollander,” he said gently.

Shane laid himself back down on the bed with his head nestled on one of his pillows. He reached and pulled his tablet closer to his face and smiled shyly. Ilya melted a little more, and positioned himself the same way on his bed, pulling his own iPad close.

“I forgot about the glasses,” Ilya said. “Already.” “You really like them, huh?” “I do.” Shane beamed at him. Ilya couldn’t stop himself from smiling back. It felt like they were really in bed together...

Shane’s eyes fluttered closed and Ilya knew he was touching himself again. And Shane had been right—this was better. Watching Shane’s face so closely as he pleasured himself was far more intimate than if Ilya had been watching his hand on his cock. Not being able to see wh...

“You are very beautiful,”...

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. ...

“The first time I met you. Those freckles...” “The first time? You mean at the World Juniors? In Saskatchewan?” “Yes.” Shane huffed out a surprised laugh. “You were such a dick to me.” “Mm. I did not like you. Just your freckles.”