Heated Rivalry (Game Changers #2)(76)

“A gay club. Yes. So I thought I would go.”

“I’m sorry. You went to a gay club in Las Vegas with Scott Hunter?”

“And his boyfriend. Yes. Nice guy.”

Shane’s brow pinched. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

Ilya shrugged. “I forgot.” Which wasn’t true at all. He just wanted to see this exact expression on Shane’s face. Ilya privately thought of it as his “scrunched confusion” face.

“Was it...what was it like?”

“Was fine. A little boring but, you know, Scott Hunter. What can you expect?” Ilya snatched a new puck from the pile beside him with his stick blade and sent it over to Shane. This time Shane caught it on his stick easily.

“So, does Hunter know you’re—?”

“I did not say anything. He may have guessed something.” He grinned. “There were some very hot men there.”

And now Shane’s face changed to the expression Ilya called “clenched disapproval.”

“I’m glad you had a nice time,” Shane said tersely.

“Point is, I went to a gay bar with NHL players and it was...exciting, you know?”

Shane nodded, and returned the puck to Ilya. “I’ll bet.”

“I give Hunter shit, but what he did was brave. Kissing his boyfriend on TV like that. And the speech at the awards.”

“It was. It really...made me hopeful. That things might be changing.”

Ilya shot the puck back to Shane. “It made me jealous,” he admitted.

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!”

Shane rolled his eyes. “You are the most obnoxious person on earth. I have no idea why I—” He stopped himself just in time. “—why I put up with you.”

Ilya pushed against the ice with his sneakers and slid over to Shane. When he reached him, he kissed him loudly on the cheek.

“I’m hungry,” Shane grumbled. “Come on. Let’s see what’s in the fridge.”

“Are you going to show me to my room, or...?”

Ilya was leaning against a pillar in the middle of the living room, wearing that fucking crooked smile that always made Shane lose his mind.

“Well, I have four guest rooms,” Shane said, playing along. “Would you like one with a view?”

“I need one with a king-size bed.”

Shane walked toward Ilya and grinned. “They all have king-size beds.”

“And an en suite bathroom.”

“Oh,” Shane said, with mock concern. “I’m afraid there’s only one room with an en suite bathroom.”

“I have very specific needs.”

“I’ll try to be accommodating.”

He breathed the last words against Ilya’s lips and then kissed him. It was slow and wonderful.

“I want to sleep in your bed, Shane Hollander,” Ilya murmured.

“I want to do lots of things in my bed.”

“Show me. Take me to bed.”

Shane led him to the room that took up half of the second floor. The sun had set, but in the morning they would see the view of the lake through the windows that wrapped around two of the walls.

He watched Ilya take the room in; he watched him examine the pictures on the walls and the items on his dresser.

“This is your room,” Ilya said, more to himself maybe than to Shane.

“Yeah. Probably even more so than my room back in Montreal. This place is...home.”

“This is your parents,” Ilya said, pointing to a framed photo sitting on the dresser.

“Yep.”

With a playful little grin, Ilya flipped the photo so it lay facedown. “Do not want to shock them,” he said. Shane laughed.

Ilya moved to the bed and sat on the end of it. Shane sat beside him. “It’s kind of surreal. Having you here.”

“Yes. Bad or good?”

“Good,” Shane said quickly. He took Ilya’s hand and squeezed. “Really good.”

“Good.” Then, without warning, Ilya turned and pounced on him, pushing him down on his back on the mattress. Shane didn’t have time to be surprised before Ilya’s mouth was on his.

Shane moaned helplessly and arched his body against Ilya’s. He wrapped a leg around Ilya’s thighs and pulled him closer.

The kiss felt weird, and Shane realized it was because neither of them could stop smiling.

“You’re here,” he murmured.

“Yes. Now take off your clothes.”

Shane laughed and quickly removed his clothing. He fired each garment in the general direction of his laundry hamper, then sprawled out on his back and watched Ilya peel his own shirt off.

Ilya slid a hand down his own bare chest, like a stripper. He paused at the button on his shorts, and raised an eyebrow at Shane.

“What’s this Magic Mike shit?” Shane asked, grinning.