Heated Rivalry (Game Changers, #2)

by Rachel Reid

Rozanov rested a hand on Shane’s face and tipped his head up. He looked at him fondly, with a little smile on his lips, and then he kissed him. “I have ruined you,” Rozanov said when they broke apart. “No one else will do.” “God, fuck off.” “Such a mouth on you.” “Don’t say it.” “I preferred it when it was on me.” “Dammit, Rozanov.”

It was the first time that Shane felt it. It was like the air in the room had thickened. Everything inside him was buzzing and on edge, like he was about to jump out of a plane. He didn’t know if Rozanov felt anything. But in that moment, Shane wanted...something. He couldn’t even name it.

Fuck. This was really gay.

He loved shit-talking him because his eyes would get all squashed up in anger and his pink lips would curl into an adorable little attempt at a snarl. Like an angry kitten.

“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.”

Hollander was damn cute when he was embarrassed. “Did you buy a building so we would have somewhere to fuck, Hollander?”

He wanted to kiss Rozanov and maybe also punch him for being such an arrogant fucking prick. And he hated himself for wanting any of this. But not enough to stop. Never enough to stop.

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

Shane and Ilya were opposites in almost every way imaginable, but it was getting harder for Ilya to deny that there was something in his core that was drawn to Hollander. Instead of getting him out of his system with their hookups, each one just made him want more. It was dangerous fucking stuff.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Rozanov panted, and Shane didn’t even have a chance to be shocked by the pet name before Rozanov was coming too.

There was something a little too...tender...in the way Rozanov was looking at him. And there was something that was far too soothing about the way Rozanov’s fingers combed through Shane’s short hair, and curved down to trace the bridge of freckles that stretched across his face.

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

He didn’t like being the one doing the fucking all that much; he loved being fucked.

he was now consumed by one thought: No one makes me feel like Ilya Rozanov does.

He turned slightly and wrapped an arm around Shane, guiding him back to rest against his own chest. Shane was surprised, but he went willingly. Very willingly. Resting against Rozanov like this, in his home, watching hockey, full of the food he had just made him...this was exactly what they weren’t supposed to be doing. This was what couples did.

Shane. He called me Shane.

Then Rozanov went very still and said, “Oh god. Shane...” They held each other, both breathing heavily as they waited for their hearts to stop racing. But Shane didn’t think his heart would ever stop racing. Shane. He called me Shane. He pulled back so he could see Rozanov’s face, and was shocked to see him staring at him with the same wide-eyed terror that Shane felt. “Ilya,” he said, barely more than a whisper. Ilya didn’t answer. Instead, he crushed their mouths together and kissed Shane in a raw, uncontrolled way that felt like an apology. Oh no. Oh fuck. Oh no. When they broke apart, Ilya rested his forehead against Shane’s and they just breathed together. Shane held Ilya’s face in his hands, and Ilya was stroking his back. Was Shane supposed to say something? Nothing had actually been admitted here. No grand declarations. No questions asked. Shane untangled himself from Ilya and stood. “I should go.” What is happening? This was bad. This was really fucking bad. Shane’s heart was racing, and it wasn’t from taking the stairs. Every fiber of him wanted to run right back up those stairs and into Ilya’s arms. To wrap himself around him and go to bed with him and wake up with him. And that was why Shane marched straight out of Ilya’s building, and didn’t stop walking until he was safely back in his hotel room.

Without warning, Ilya moved his hand until it was right next to Shane’s, and then he hooked their thumbs together. Shane’s first instinct was to pull away, but he resisted. Instead he closed his eyes, and tried not to hope for impossible things. He also resisted the urge to rest his head on Ilya’s shoulder.

“I think I’m gay,” Shane blurted out. Ilya looked at him, startled, for a moment. Then he laughed. “Oh yeah? What gives you that idea?” Shane glared at him, which made Ilya laugh more. “The last time my dick was in your mouth, I thought you might be a little gay,” Ilya teased. “Fuck off. You’re not gay.” “No,” Ilya said, serious again. “Not completely.” “Well... I think I might be. Completely.”

“Last time we were together it was...nice,” he said quietly. Ilya was silent a moment, then admitted, “It was.” “It felt like we were...more.” “We can’t be more, Hollander.” Shane turned his head sharply to look at Ilya. “Would you want to be? If we could?” “We can’t.” “That’s not what I asked.” Ilya stood up and set his Coke can down hard on the dresser. “It doesn’t fucking matter!” Shane flinched and fiddled with the can of ginger ale that he hadn’t even opened. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t like you,” he said finally. “You don’t like me,” Ilya argued. “I do. I...I maybe like you too much.” Ilya’s heart clenched. “Don’t,” he groaned. “Don’t fucking do this, Hollander. I’m not...” “Worth it?” Ilya glared at him. “Gay. I’m not gay. And I can’t be...anything close to it, okay?” Shane laughed. “Well, you’re doing a shitty job of that!” “Not in public. I can’t... I would not be able to go home.”

“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.

“Tell me everything you want to say,” he said. “In Russian. I won’t understand but...maybe it will help?”

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. They didn’t wish to be together. They reluctantly hooked up when they were in the same city because it was something to do. 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 these feelings, but at least he had allowed himself to accept them. And he had, in the most cowardly way possible, said them aloud to Shane.

“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.

“You are very beautiful,” Ilya said. 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. Am I not using that word right? Very beautiful. Um...take my breath?” “Wow. All right.” The skin under Shane’s freckles turned very, very pink.

Shane huffed out a surprised laugh. “You were such a dick to me.” “Mm. I did not like you. Just your freckles.”

“I’m fucked,” he murmured in Russian. “I am so fucking in love and it’s horrible.”

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.

They hadn’t been together for months. The ridiculous thing was, Ilya hadn’t been with anyone in all that time. For the first time in his life, he hadn’t wanted to be with anyone else.

“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?

Ilya cheated and murmured, “I would stay here forever if I could” in Russian. He felt Shane sigh around him, but it sounded more dreamy than exasperated. Maybe he understood what he meant. Maybe some feelings couldn’t be hidden behind foreign words.

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

“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.”

“Fuck you and your loon!” Ilya said. “Stupid Canadian wolf bird.”

And then, somehow, words scraped their way out of Ilya’s throat that he had never shared with anyone before. “I found her.” His voice broke on the last word, and Shane was on his feet, hauling Ilya up with him. Shane engulfed him in his arms and held him tight, letting Ilya bury his face on his shoulder.

“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.” Ilya bent to take his third shot. “Is terrible problem.” Fuck. Shane was going start crying right here in his games room.

kept murmuring the same thing in Russian over and over again until he pulled back and translated: “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. Ilya gave a shaky smile and exhaled. “Thank Christ.” “Does it...does it feel like agony for you too?” Ilya started to nod, then stopped. He shook his head slowly instead. “Not anymore.”

“She would have loved you.” “I wish I could have met her.” “Yes. Me too.”

“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.” And suddenly Ilya looked very blurry through Shane’s eyes. Shane swallowed down the urge to cry, and said, “Me too. Just one.”

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

“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.”

“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.”

“My mother died when I was twelve years old. She lost her battle. This foundation is for her. It is to help people like her, so they do not have to fight alone.”