Heated Rivalry (Game Changers #2)(57)

“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.”

“Your family?”

“Russia. I could not go home to Russia.”

Shane looked horrified. “What would happen to you?”

“I do not want to find out.”

He seemed to consider this. “Would your parents...help?”

Ilya shook his head and sat himself on the floor against the wall. “My father is a cop.”

“Oh,” said Shane. “Jesus.”

“My brother is a cop.”

“What about your mother?”

“Dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I was young,” Ilya said, waving a hand as if his mother’s death was of no consequence to him, which was far from the truth. “I have a stepmother. She is...very young for my father.” He snorted. “My mother was very young for my father.”

“Oh.”

Ilya exhaled slowly. “My father was not ever an easy man to live with. He is very...set in old ways. Very strict. My brother, Andrei, is much like him. But now...my father is sick.”

“Sick? Like...cancer?”

Ilya shook his head. “No. Alzheimer’s.”

“Oh. Shit. I’m sorry.”

Ilya nodded. There. Now someone knew.

“He must be proud of you, though? You’re a superstar!”

Ilya almost laughed at that. “He did not want me to leave. Wanted me to stay in Russia.”

Neither man said anything for a while.

“I love my country,” Ilya said. “But I could not stay there.”

“Would have made my life a lot easier,” Shane joked.

They both laughed. Shane shook his head and looked at the ceiling. And Ilya just...stared at him. At this oddly insecure superstar who was so beautiful and sweet and here.

“You look really fucking good,” Ilya said.

Shane stood and placed his ginger ale on the dresser next to Ilya’s abandoned Coke. He sank to the floor, straddling Ilya’s outstretched legs.

“Hey,” Shane said softly.

Ilya gave in and reached for him. As soon as he had Shane in his arms, he was done for. He leaned forward and took his mouth. It felt different this time, as he wrapped his arms around Shane’s back and pulled him close against his body. Shane’s hands cradled Ilya’s face as he kissed him with the force of everything they had almost said out loud.

It was late and Shane knew he needed to go back to his own room, but he was in bed with Ilya. Not just in bed, but cuddled together, with Ilya gently stroking his hair. Shane was rolling Ilya’s crucifix between his thumb and his finger.

“Are you religious?” Shane asked. “Or do you just wear this?”

“I don’t go to church anymore.”

“But you believe in God?”

“Yes. I think so.”

Shane didn’t reply. He just considered this information.

“You think that is silly?” Ilya asked.

“No! No, I’m just surprised, I guess.”

Ilya laughed softly.

“What?” Shane asked.

“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.”

Ilya snorted and kissed the top of his head. “It was my mother’s.”

“Oh.” He stopped twirling the cross and rested it gently against Ilya’s chest. “Do you want to talk about...anything? Your family?”

“No,” Ilya said. “Not tonight.”

“You can, though, you know. Talk to me.”

For a moment, Ilya was very still. “Thank you,” he said.

Shane wondered if Ilya felt it too. The heaviness of the aftermath of their encounters. The impossibility of everything. Shane felt it every time. The whole point of their hookups was to provide release, but Shane only felt more tangled up each time.

“I should probably go,” Shane said.

Ilya didn’t reply, so Shane moved to get out of the bed. Ilya pulled him back, and Shane found himself on top of him, and then being kissed by him, and then he was under him.

“Stay,” Ilya said.

“Can’t.” But he loved that Ilya was asking.

“No one will even fucking notice. This weekend is chaos.”

“Too risky.”

Ilya shook his head. “When will I have you for as long as I want?”

Shane’s heart leapt. “I don’t know. As soon as possible?”

“Yes.” Ilya leaned in and kissed him. “After I win the Stanley Cup this year, we should go somewhere.”

Shane rolled his eyes. “You’re not winning that cup. And where on earth would we go?”