Heated Rivalry (Game Changers, #2)

by Rachel Reid

They both knew this was a point of no return. More so even than the first time they had kissed, or fucked. This was a new frontier, a new level of intimacy.

“I’ve, uh, I’ve been looking forward to this,” Shane said. “Yes. Me too.” Shane smiled and took one hand off the steering wheel. He reached over and Ilya quickly tangled their fingers together and squeezed. Two weeks. For two weeks they could pretend that their situation wasn’t impossible.

He was so obviously nervous. “There’s a natural spring nearby and...” Ilya closed the distance between them in slow, deliberate steps. Shane tilted his head up to face him, and Ilya could see him swallow.

Finally, Ilya reached a hand up and brushed the backs of his fingers against Shane’s cheek. Shane unconsciously licked his lip and Ilya moved in to kiss him.

The moment Shane’s mouth opened under his, everything made sense. All of Ilya’s nerves left him, and he grabbed at Shane’s T-shirt and pulled him closer. Shane made a little moaning sound and plunged his fingers under Ilya’s ball cap, knocking it to the floor. He tangled his fingers in Ilya’s hair and began walking him backward to the leather sofa.

For the first time in his life, he hadn’t wanted to be with anyone else. But now he felt like he was going to burst if Shane didn’t touch him the way he’d not been able to stop thinking about.

But... “No.” “Like, not since—?” “No. Not since. Can we please get back to—?” “Really?” Shane pulled back so he could look Ilya directly in the eyes. He looked stunned and way, way too happy. “Is not a big deal, Hollander. Relax.”

Instead, he reached up and gently brushed a lock of hair out of Ilya’s face. Ilya could only stare, mesmerized, at Shane’s face as he looked down at him with so much...tenderness.

“Let’s be honest with each other. For these two weeks, let’s just...say what we’re actually thinking. Maybe...say how we really feel.”

I can’t, Ilya wanted to say. I can’t because if I do you’ll think I’m pathetic, or, worse, you’ll say it back and then what the fuck are we supposed to do? “I will try,” he said instead. “Will you?” Shane asked skeptically. “Yes! I will do anything if it will make you touch my dick right now!”

Ilya cheated and murmured, “I would stay here forever if I could” in Russian.

Maybe some feelings couldn’t be hidden behind foreign words.

They talked quietly to each other as they—there was no other word for it—cuddled for over an hour. Shane was twisting strands of Ilya’s hair around his fingers and gently releasing them; Ilya was tracing his fingertips over Shane’s freckles. Every now and again, Ilya would kiss Shane’s jaw, or his throat, or, one time, the tip of his nose.

Ilya couldn’t believe what he had been reduced to. He was...infatuated. It was disgusting. But it was hard to care when Shane was lying on top of him, his smooth chest and stomach touching every inch of Ilya’s own. His bangs hanging down to brush Ilya’s nose. His dark eyes, and his freckles, and his smile. Shane looked so happy. Somehow, Ilya made him happy.

Ilya wanted to always make...

Ilya shrugged. “I forgot.” Which wasn’t true at all. He just wanted to see this exact expression on Shane’s face. Ilya privately thought of it as his “scrunched confusion” face.

“So, does Hunter know you’re—?” “I did not say anything. He may have guessed something.” He grinned. “There were some very hot men there.” And now Shane’s face changed to the expression Ilya called “clenched disapproval.”

give Hunter shit, but what he did was brave. Kissing his boyfriend on TV like that. And the speech at the awards.” “It was. It really...made me hopeful. That things might be changing.” Ilya shot the puck back to Shane. “It made me jealous,” he admitted.

Shane laughed. “You wanna kiss me on television?” “Yes. After I win the Stanley Cup.” Shane spread his arms out. “Oh, so in this romantic scenario, you’ve just defeated me?” “Yes. Sorry.” “I’m not going to be in the mood to kiss you if I’ve just lost the Stanley Cup, Rozanov.” “But you would be so proud of me!”

Shane rolled his eyes. “You are the most obnoxious person on earth. I have no idea why I—” He stopped himself just in time. “—why I put up with you.” Ilya pushed against the ice with his sneakers and slid over to Shan...

Ilya was leaning against a pillar in the middle of the living room, wearing that fucking crooked smile that always made Shane lose his mind.

He breathed the last words against Ilya’s lips and then kissed him. It was slow and wonderful. “I want to sleep in your bed, Shane Hollander,” Ilya murmured.

Ilya moved to the bed and sat on the end of it. Shane sat beside him. “It’s kind of surreal. Having you here.” “Yes. Bad or good?” “Good,” Shane said quickly. He took Ilya’s hand and squeezed. “Really good.” “Good.” Then, without warning, Ilya turned and pounced on him, pushing him down on his back on the mattress. Shane didn’t have time to be surprised before Ilya’s mouth was on his.

The kiss felt weird, and Shane realized it was because neither of them could stop smiling. “You’re here,” he murmured. “Yes. Now take off your clothes.”

“Don’t tease me,” Ilya said. “I have waited too long for this.”

“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.”

Ilya was here, and Shane would finally know what it was like to be with him when they had all the time they wanted. Ilya had promised him two weeks, and Shane was giddy with the vastness of time that was spread before him.

Ilya responded by gripping both of Shane’s wrists and pinning them to the mattress. “Oh,” Shane gasped. He shamelessly tipped his head back to give Ilya better access to his throat. Ilya took advantage of his generous offer by sucking the sensitive spot just under the hinge of Shane’s jaw.

“Harder,” Shane said. “I want to see it later.” Ilya growled and pressed his mouth harder to Shane’s skin. He sucked hard enough that, for a hysterical second, Shane wondered if he might actually be a vampire.

Ilya gently licked the spot, and Shane squirmed happily. “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. He knew it was impossible, but in that moment he would do anything to make it work. There had to be a solution to their problem.

“Gorgeous,” Ilya sighed between kisses. The word, in his accent, was dark and lush. It slid over Shane’s skin, and in that moment he felt gorgeous.

Ilya rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched. “I guess that is a compliment.” “It is,” Shane agreed quickly. He flipped over to his back. “That felt incredible.” “Good.” “Did, um...did you like doing that?” Ilya nodded. “I did. Yes. Until you bashed me in the face.”

“I was hoping there would be toys.” “I don’t keep any here.” “You have a big stash in Montreal?” Shane blushed. “No!” “No? Still just one lonely dildo?” Yes.

“Oh, Shane. Yes. I want to hear it.”

“You look like—are you going to come, Hollander?” “Yeah,” Shane gasped. “Oh fuck. Yes. Come on.” Ilya thrust faster, keeping his eyes on Shane’s dick, and then Shane erupted. He screamed and arched and watched with Ilya as his dick coated his stomach and chest. “Shane...” It was the only word Ilya managed to grit out before he stilled and came inside him.

And then Ilya placed a palm on the side of Shane’s face and just looked at him, and for a wild second Shane thought Ilya was going to be the one to say those forbidden words.

“We could stay in this bed for two weeks,” Shane suggested. Ilya shook his head. “No. I want to fuck you in every room of this house.”

Ilya leaned in and nuzzled under Shane’s chin. Shane tipped his head back so Ilya could trail kisses over his flushed skin.

Shane pulled away so he could glare at him. “You’re really going to make fun of me now? While you’re a guest in my home? In my bed?” Shane was assaulted by a lazy, crooked smile. “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.”

Instead, Ilya stood directly behind Shane and draped an arm across his chest. He kissed him behind the ear. “No,” he murmured.

It was exhilarating, to be outdoors like this and to be able to touch each other the way they wanted to. Christ. He hadn’t even been here for two days yet and already he had no idea how he was going to be able to go back to the real world.

“You love your parents. You are a good son.” “I try to be.” “They don’t know how bad you can be.” “Stop it.”

“Why would you, though?” “What do you mean?” “You can tell your parents that you are gay, I think, without telling them the names of men you are fucking. I am pretty sure about this.”

The truth was that Shane thought about Ilya meeting his parents a lot. He was kind of obsessed with the idea. He couldn’t even form a clear thought about why it was so important to him.

To know that the two people he loved the most had touched the skin of Ilya Rozanov, and had looked into his eyes, even for a second, and that Shane now had concrete proof that all three of them existed in the same world.

The real actual truth—the truth that Shane mentally stomped on every time it dared try to get his attention—was that he wanted Ilya to meet his parents for the same reason anyone wanted their boyfriend to meet their parents: he loved him, and he wanted them to love him too.

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.

The morning light was making everything beautiful, and Shane was in love, so he had leaned in and lightly kissed Ilya’s wrist.

When Ilya’s eyes had fluttered open, Shane’s face had been inches away from them. He had seen the initial confusion in Ilya’s expression before it softened into a shy smile. It had been a perfect morning.