Heated Rivalry (Game Changers #2)(31)

“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 assumed he was trying to look stern, but the flush of his cheeks was ruining the effect. “No. It’s an investment. I’m having it renovated and then I’ll sell the condos. And I already have a tenant lined up for the commercial space on the main floor.”

“Wow. Businessman.”

Hollander folded his arms. It did not make him look any more intimidating. “Enough questions. We’re not here to talk.”

“Yes. Where do you want me? On that ladder? On the pile of wood over there?”

“In here, idiot.”

Hollander crossed the room and opened yet another door. This one led to...

...a fully finished bedroom. Like, a really nice one.

“I, uh, I kinda made the bedroom the priority. And the bathroom. So we could—”

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 had been sure, all summer, that this would be the year Hollander would call it off. But he had thought the same thing last summer too, after their rookie seasons had ended with Hollander shoving Ilya away after they’d kissed on a Las Vegas rooftop. But when their teams had met for the first time that second season, Ilya had texted him a hotel room number and Hollander showed up twenty minutes later.

“You were smoking,” Hollander complained now, as he broke away from their kiss.

“Only one.”

“You aren’t supposed to be smoking.”

“You aren’t supposed to be talking.” Ilya pushed Hollander’s chest and knocked him flat onto his back on the bed. Ilya took a moment to gaze down at him—at his flushed cheeks and mussed hair, and at the strip of exposed skin where his T-shirt had ridden up. Then Ilya pounced.

They kissed in their usual combative style for a while—Hollander rolling them to pin Ilya down and attack his mouth, before Ilya would flip them and regain control. Shirts came off, then pants, then socks and underwear.

“An hour,” Ilya murmured. He was on top now, biting and licking his way along Hollander’s collarbone. “Then I have to go.”

“Then hurry the fuck up.”

Ilya smiled against Hollander’s skin. He was such a little brat. Ilya raised himself up and straddled Shane’s waist, making sure to squeeze just a little too hard with his thighs. He took his own dick in his hand and stroked it slowly, thoughtfully. “You want this, Hollander?”

And, oh god, Ilya could see the war going on in Hollander’s head. He could see how much he wanted to tell Ilya to fuck off and die, but more than that, he could see the way Hollander’s tongue poked out to moisten his lower lip.

“Starving for it, yes, Hollander?” Ilya slid forward, positioning his body closer to Hollander’s face. To his mouth. Hollander’s chest was heaving beneath him, and he glared up at Ilya with dark, intense eyes. “Is okay,” Ilya said soothingly. He tapped the head of his cock against Hollander’s lips. “You can. Take it.”

“I hate you.”

“Yes. I know. Show me.”

“Fuck,” Hollander whispered, seemingly to himself. Then he parted his lips, and licked the moisture off Ilya’s slit.

Ilya’s hand shot out and gripped the headboard. It seemed like a nice headboard, sturdy. He expected he’d find out exactly how sturdy soon enough.

Hollander teased the head of Ilya’s dick for a maddeningly long time, but, damn, what a show. Ilya watched Hollander’s eyes flutter closed as he sucked the head into his mouth. His tongue rolled around it, flicking the underside of Ilya’s dick and then dipping into the slit. It was so fucking good, and not nearly enough.

Hollander growled, seemingly as frustrated with the angle as Ilya was, and pushed him down to the mattress before taking Ilya’s cock into his mouth again. This time Hollander made a meal of Ilya’s dick, his head bobbing in a quick rhythm that Ilya was not going to be able to endure for very long. Not if he also wanted to fuck Hollander in their allotted hour of time.

But Hollander wasn’t letting up. He tugged at Ilya’s balls with just the right amount of pressure, and Ilya could feel Hollander’s erection sliding along his thigh.

“Hollander...” he warned. He was flying way too high, too fast.

Hollander moaned, or maybe he’d tried to form a word around Ilya’s dick, but all it did was cause vibrations that Ilya really didn’t need right now.

“Fuck. Fuck. You have to stop. If you want me to fuck you...”

Hollander ripped his mouth away from Ilya’s cock, but then he went very still. “Shit. Oh god. Fuck.”

Ilya felt wetness splash against his thigh. Hollander’s body jerked a couple of times, and then he buried his face in Ilya’s shoulder. “Fuck.”

“Hollander?”

“I’m sorry,” he groaned. “I can’t believe I just...you didn’t even touch me!”

And Ilya just...laughed. Because it was fucking funny.