Heated Rivalry (Game Changers, #2)

by Rachel Reid

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.

Ilya had more important things to think about than freckles and polite Canadian boys.

“I’m winning this game,” Shane growled. “There is not an ‘I’ in team, right?” “There’s an ‘I’ in ‘suck my dick.’” Rozanov raised an eyebrow as they bent for the face-off. “There is also an ‘I’ in ‘silver,’” he said.

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.

Fuck. This was really gay.

Screw Ilya Rozanov, right? That can be your mantra tonight.” Or not. Shane forced a smile. “Sure. Screw him.”

They bent for the face-off. Ilya wished he didn’t have the mouth guard in because he would have loved to do something distracting and sexy with his tongue. He probably should have been focusing more on the puck and less on bothering Hollander, because he lost their first face-off. And that was something he’d never get back.

so instead he threw his head back against the wall like the eager slut he apparently was.

He wanted to win this fucking Rookie of the Year award. He wanted to rub it in Rozanov’s face. He wanted to rub himself on Rozanov’s face.

Cliff was a year younger than him, a bit of an idiot, and probably Ilya’s best friend.

Ilya: You are very bad at sexting. Jane: Who taught you that word? Ilya: Your mom. Okay, that was pretty stupid. But Hollander loved his mom and that probably would bother him.

Ilya frowned at the abandoned-looking three-story building the cabdriver had delivered him to. He checked the address again, and confirmed that it was the same as what Hollander had texted him. The fuck? Hollander’s only instruction had been for Ilya to go around the back of the building, text him, and wait at the door. So Ilya did that, trying not to think about being murdered in a dark empty lot behind a creepy building. If he believed Hollander had a diabolical bone in his body, Ilya would suspect he was about to be pranked.

I mean, I don’t live here. But, yes, I own it.” “You will move here?” “No. It’s just an investment, or whatever. And I thought it could be a safe place to...meet.” Hollander was damn cute when he was embarrassed. “Did you buy a building so we would have somewhere to fuck, Hollander?”

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.

Scott was a super nice guy. Carter was nice too, but Scott was, like, an angel who was really good at playing hockey. He looked like an angel: blond hair and blue eyes and built like a Navy SEAL who was also a model and maybe also a firefighter.

Text Rozanov? Try to lay eyes on him? Make sure he’d not been arrested for blowing a ski jumper or something?

“How’d it go?” Hayden asked, grinning sleepily. “You in love?” “No!” No! Jesus. “I’m gonna take a shower.” “Why? To wash off the sex you weren’t having?” “Go fuck yourself, Hayden.” “Oh, I did. Couple of times. Thanks for the empty room.”

“I like you,” Shane said quietly. “I like being with you. I like talking to you. But the sex part... I know it’s...a problem.” “It’s not a problem,” she said. “A problem is something you can solve. We’re like...a square peg and a round hole.” She scrunched her nose. “Ew. No. Gross. Forget I said that.”

“You don’t believe in God, but you believe if you put right skate on before left you will play a terrible game.” Shane shook his head and smiled. “That’s different. That’s science.”

“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.”

“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.” Shane shook his head a little on the pillow. “Thanks, I guess.”

“That crooked fucking smile of yours. I can’t even tell you...that smile haunts me.” “Haunts you? Like a ghost? That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”

“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.

It was never supposed to have gotten to this point. He was never supposed to have fallen in love with Shane Hollander.

“When the right one comes along, you’ll know,” she said. 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.

“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 couldn’t believe what he had been reduced to. He was...infatuated. It was disgusting.

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!”

“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. Are there Russian vampires? No, dummy. Vampires aren’t real.

“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.

His biggest nightmare was that he and Ilya would be caught together somehow. Paparazzi or whatever. And then the world would know, but more importantly, his parents would know. They would find out that their son was gay and their son was being gay with Ilya Rozanov.

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

“What the fuck was that?” Ilya said. He couldn’t conceal the terror in his voice. But who the fuck cared, because they were surrounded by hungry wolves! Shane laughed. “It’s a loon.” “A what?” “A loon!” Shane was really laughing now. “It’s a bird. Like a duck, kind of. Oh my god, you thought it was a wolf!” “What the fuck bird makes a noise like that?” “A loon!” Shane said again. Then he doubled over in hysterics. Ilya wanted to push him into the fire. “Fuck you and your loon!” Ilya said. “Stupid Canadian wolf bird.”

“I like women. I always was thinking that to get married would be nice. Kids. All of that. Someday. But...this problem will not go away.” Shane bit his lip. “Tell me about this problem.” “Is so annoying.” Ilya sighed, and Shane could see him fighting a grin. “Always I am with beautiful women. Wonderful women. Everywhere.” “Sounds rough.” “Yes. Listen. These women, they are so sexy and fun, but is no matter. I cannot stop thinking about this short fucking hockey player with these stupid freckles and a weak backhand.” “A weak backhand?” Shane couldn’t stop smiling. “Yes. And he is just so boring and he drives a terrible car and...that is my problem. All of these beautiful women and I am always wishing they were him.”

“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.”

Ilya had no idea why he got so much enjoyment from causing Shane distress, but he did. He loved to see him all agitated and struggling to keep control. “If you love me...” Ilya added obnoxiously. Shane’s eyes narrowed. “I’m starting to question that.”

The sun shone on every inch of Shane: his skin, his hair, his freckles. He looked so achingly beautiful and happy. It was a shame that Ilya was going to ruin it. A shame, but there was no choice about it: Shane Hollander was standing on the edge of a dock, and now his back was turned to Ilya. Like an idiot. “How’s the water?” Ilya asked. “What?” That was all the warning Shane got before Ilya pushed him off the dock with both hands. Shane let out most of a “motherfucker” before his head submerged beneath the dark water.

So, you’re probably wondering why I was making out with Ilya Rozanov...”

He’s...we’re, um...” What were they, exactly? It occurred to Shane that he and Ilya hadn’t even figured out what label they were comfortable with. “Lovers,” Ilya offered. Fuck, way to choose the grossest possible word, Ilya. Well, there was no going back from that word. Shane could only wait for the aftermath.

since your rookie season?” his mother gasped. “No,” Ilya said. “That’s not right. Was before that.” Not helping, Ilya. “Before that?” Mom asked. “A little before,” Ilya clarified. “Summer before.” “You’ve been...in love this whole time?” “No!” Shane said. “God no,” Ilya said at the same time.

“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.”

“You would leave Boston?” Mom asked, stunned. “For Shane?” Ilya didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” She frowned, as if she couldn’t believe anything he was saying was real. “Oh my god!” Shane exclaimed. “You’re actually conflicted, aren’t you, Mom?” “What are you talking about?” “You’re bothered by his lack of loyalty to his team!” “Well!” Mom said, as if that was a perfectly reasonable way to react to the fact that Ilya was so madly in love with her son that he was willing to throw his whole life into upheaval. Shane turned to Ilya. “My mom, by the way, cares about hockey a little too much.” Ilya snorted. “Now I know where you get it.”

“Wow,” he said. “We’re really going to do this, aren’t we?” The statement was vague, but Ilya understood. “Yes. If you want to try this, I will do what I need to do.” “I will too. Anything. I want this. I want us.” Ilya brushed Shane’s hair out of his eyes. “Then I am moving to Ottawa, I think.” “And we’re starting a charity.” “And we will become friends.” “And we’ll see each other all the time. As much as possible. And spend the summers together. Here.” “Yes.”

when I retire,” Ilya said, “after I have won twelve Stanley Cups and thirteen MVP awards—” “The hell you will.” “And you have been retired for, like, eight years already because you got very bad at hockey...” Shane laughed. “Okay.” “Then I will bring you to that dock out there. I will have hundreds of candles all over it...” “That sounds like a fire hazard.” “Is on the water, Hollander. Fucking relax. Will be beautiful, you will love it. The candles. The lake. The full moon.” “Oh, is it a clear night?” “Yes. Of course. And I will get on one knee—” “Ilya—” “And I will say, ‘Shane Hollander, will you please marry me so I can become Canadian citizen faster?’” Shane burst out laughing, and shoved him. “You’re such an asshole.” “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.” And, oh god, Ilya didn’t deserve

“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.”

I’m going to sell that other place. I was being paranoid when I bought it. I’m sorry.” Ilya grinned. “Buying an entire building because you are nervous is very you.”

“I apologize in advance if Rozanov has a black eye for the press conference.” “Please don’t punch him.” “I’ll make a deal: if he stops being a fucking dick, I won’t punch him.” Shane grimaced. Ilya was definitely going to have a black eye tomorrow.

“Your cheek looks better than I thought it would.” “Is still sore.” “Serves you right. You were an asshole to Hayden.” “Hayden is an asshole to me.” Shane sighed. “I have terrible taste in men. For friends and boyfriends.”