Heated Rivalry (Game Changers #2)(78)

“Aah! What the fuck, Hollander?”

“Sorry!”

He turned to look over his shoulder, and Ilya was rubbing his jaw and scowling.

“I’m sorry!” Shane said again. “I was just... I didn’t want to come yet.”

Ilya rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched. “I guess that is a compliment.”

“It is,” Shane agreed quickly. He flipped over to his back. “That felt incredible.”

“Good.”

“Did, um...did you like doing that?”

Ilya nodded. “I did. Yes. Until you bashed me in the face.”

Shane bit his lip to keep from grinning, but Ilya noticed. With a snort that didn’t really sound angry, Ilya bent down until their faces were inches apart.

Shane tilted his chin up for a kiss before he remembered where Ilya’s mouth had just been. Did he care?

No.

He leaned up and kissed him, and he didn’t really taste much of anything. It was just the familiar heat of Ilya’s mouth on his. He felt the press of Ilya’s hard cock against his hip, and the need to have it inside of him flared right back up in Shane.

“Please.”

Ilya looked around and Shane pointed to the nightstand to the right of the bed. Ilya opened the drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube and a condom, but he didn’t close the drawer right away.

“What?” Shane asked.

“I was hoping there would be toys.”

“I don’t keep any here.”

“You have a big stash in Montreal?”

Shane blushed. “No!”

“No? Still just one lonely dildo?”

Yes.

Shane slammed his head back on the pillow. He was not above whining at this point. “Please shut up and fuck me.”

Ilya wasted no time positioning himself between Shane’s legs and driving into him. Shane wasn’t sure if he was trying to say be careful what you wish for, but Shane wasn’t feeling sorry at all.

Shane cried out into the room. He let himself be as loud as he’d always wanted to be, because he could.

“Oh, Shane. Yes. I want to hear it.”

Ilya slammed into him over and over, making the headboard bang against the wall. Shane reached a hand up to steady it, but Ilya just covered his hand with his own, bracing himself against the wall and fucking him even harder.

Shane lifted his legs and rested his ankles on Ilya’s shoulders. Ilya growled and lunged forward, folding Shane in half and sinking deeper inside him.

Ilya’s face was slick with sweat, and his eyes were wild. “Shane. Fuck—I—holy shit. You’re amazing, Shane. So fucking good.”

Shane could only make high, whimpery noises in response. He was going to come. There was nothing touching his dick, but it was going to happen. Any second now.

“You look like—are you going to come, Hollander?”

“Yeah,” Shane gasped.

“Oh fuck. Yes. Come on.”

Ilya thrust faster, keeping his eyes on Shane’s dick, and then Shane erupted. He screamed and arched and watched with Ilya as his dick coated his stomach and chest.

“Shane...” It was the only word Ilya managed to grit out before he stilled and came inside him.

For long moments, neither of them moved. They both panted and gazed at each other, and there were words that Shane was dangerously close to saying. He could feel them, thrashing around inside him, desperate to get out, but he forced them down.

And then Ilya placed a palm on the side of Shane’s face and just looked at him, and for a wild second Shane thought Ilya was going to be the one to say those forbidden words.

But he didn’t. Instead, he pulled out of him and fell on the mattress beside him. Shane rolled to his side, and Ilya did the same, facing him. Shane smiled because the last time he’d had this view of him, Ilya had been in Moscow, and Shane had been in Montreal.

“We could stay in this bed for two weeks,” Shane suggested.

Ilya shook his head. “No. I want to fuck you in every room of this house.”

Shane squirmed and blushed. “I have a hot tub, you know.”

Ilya made a face. “Hot tubs are terrible for sex. Have you tried it?”

“No.”

“Is horrible. Too hot. Uncomfortable.”

“Well, I also have a pool.”

Ilya leaned in and nuzzled under Shane’s chin. Shane tipped his head back so Ilya could trail kisses over his flushed skin.

“And a pool table,” Ilya murmured.

Oh god.

“The felt is very delicate,” Shane squeaked.

Ilya snorted. “Do you ever relax?”

Shane pulled away so he could glare at him. “You’re really going to make fun of me now? While you’re a guest in my home? In my bed?”

Shane was assaulted by a lazy, crooked smile.

“No,” Ilya said. “I like you, Hollander.”

It wasn’t an earth-shattering confession, but the words still moved Shane enormously.

“I like you too, Rozanov.”



Chapter Twenty-Four


The following evening, Ilya leaned against the rail of the deck and watched Shane flip burgers on the barbecue. Shane seemed very excited about the burgers. He had followed a recipe online.

Ilya took a sip of his beer. “Why the fuck are you making eight burgers?” he asked.