Heated Rivalry (Game Changers #2)(52)

“I’d like that. You’re right. I don’t. And I care about you too. We’ll be friends. You have my number. Text me. Text me all the time. Please.”

“Whenever we’re in the same city, we’ll hang out. I promise.”

She hugged him as her driver pulled up. He hugged her back and kissed the top of her head. He was surprised to feel tears in his eyes.

The same night—Boston

Svetlana was his favorite.

Ilya watched her now, perched on the end of his bed, naked, flipping through channels searching for the Vancouver vs. Colorado hockey game. When she found it, she slapped the remote down on the mattress and shimmied back until she was beside Ilya, against the headboard. She pulled the cigarette from between his lips and took a drag.

“I thought you quit,” she teased.

She had vivid blue eyes, and long, straight hair that was so blonde it almost had no color at all. She couldn’t have looked less like...

“Why is Matheson still on the power play line?” she complained at the television, in Russian. “It’s bullshit. He’s been horrible all season. They should put Bogrov in.”

“Why don’t you coach Colorado then?” Ilya asked, snatching back his cigarette.

“They would be lucky to have me.”

Ilya laughed. He had first met Svetlana three years ago, when she’d worked for the Lamborghini dealership in Boston. He had been surprised to learn, after he had slept with her the first time, that she was the daughter of a retired Russian Boston Bears star player. She possibly knew more about hockey than Ilya did.

“What was that shot?” she asked the television. “He should have gone high!”

“Mm. It is a little harder when you are the one who is actually doing it.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “What would you know?” she said. Then she smiled, and they both laughed.

Despite her fierce love of hockey, she never treated Ilya with any reverence. Maybe it was being the daughter of a former superstar that made her unable to put Ilya on a pedestal. She seemed to want exactly what Ilya wanted: a no-expectations hookup from time to time. They had fun together, and she was incredibly beautiful. The fact that Ilya could speak to her in Russian was a bonus.

“Ugh. Matheson again. He’s terrible!”

“Why do you even care about Colorado?”

“I care about all teams. I don’t like good Russian players being put on the second line so a no-talent Canadian can hog the spotlight.”

“No talent?”

“No talent! None! You can tell him, next time you see him.”

“I will.”

“Good. You tell him Svetlana Vetrova says he is terrible.”

“I’ll see him next week at the All-Star Game.”

“I can’t believe Matheson is an all-star. It makes no sense.”

“He is beloved.”

“He is terrible.”

Ilya rolled his eyes and smiled.

“You are playing with Shane Hollander this year, right? In the All-Star Game?” Svetlana asked, as if she didn’t know the answer.

“Yes. Is he also terrible?”

“No! No, Hollander is amazing. I love Shane Hollander.” She sort of purred the last few words.

“Traitor.”

“He’s a beautiful skater. Such talented hands. And so cute.”

“Now you are trying to make me angry.”

“You can’t argue those facts, Ilya.”

“No,” Ilya said, grinding the butt of his cigarette into a small plate he was using as a makeshift ashtray. “I can’t argue them. He is very good.”

“And cute.”

“If you say so.”

She pulled her knees to her chest. “Are we going to fuck again, or should I get dressed? I’m cold.”

Ilya considered her question, then shrugged. “I’m hungry. You should get dressed.”

She looked momentarily surprised, then her features changed to match his own cool indifference. “All right.”

She stood up and began retrieving her clothes from the floor. Ilya watched her, but his mind wasn’t on her slim, perfect body.

Would he have shrugged if Shane had asked him if they were going to fuck again? Would he have turned down his chance to enjoy his body as many times as he possibly could? Don’t you dare put your clothes on, Hollander. I’m not done with you yet.

The truth—the truth that he tried so very hard to ignore—was that no one set him on fire like Shane Hollander. All of these women...they were gorgeous. Fun. Very sexy. But he didn’t think about them after they were gone. He didn’t long for them. With them, he could be sated.

He grimaced at himself as Svetlana pulled her shirt back on. Shane Hollander was not an option. He wasn’t ever an option, not really. This thing between them needed to stop. It was bad for both of them, and Ilya knew they should end it.

What scared Ilya was how desperately he wanted it to continue.

But not enough to embarrass himself. Which was why he hadn’t even bothered texting Shane when their teams had played against each other in Montreal last week. He had no interest in being rejected by Shane Hollander.

He’d also had no interest in seeing Shane Hollander with his hands all over Rose fucking Landry in a nightclub, but fate seemed determined to rub Hollander in his face. A fucking nightclub! If he couldn’t be safe from Hollander there, then where?