Heated Rivalry (Game Changers #2)(92)

He wrapped Shane in his arms, and held him. He nuzzled into Shane’s hair and breathed him in.

“I love you,” he murmured, because he could say that. After so fucking long he could finally say that.

Shane tilted his head up and studied Ilya’s face with questioning eyes. “I love you too,” he said. “Are you all right?”

Ilya nodded, and leaned in to kiss him.

It was exactly how Ilya had secretly always wanted to kiss Shane: a shameless display of adoration and care. Their tongues slowly caressing as Ilya held Shane’s face in his hands and brushed his hair with his fingertips.

His heart flipped and tumbled helplessly around in his chest. There would be no going back from this. From any of this.

“I keep thinking about logistics,” Shane said when they broke apart, as if Ilya hadn’t just poured his heart into that kiss. “Like, the earliest you would be in Ottawa would be the season after next, when your contract is done with Boston, right?”

Ilya did not want to talk about any of this right now.

“Yes. Probably.” He nibbled behind Shane’s ear, hoping to distract him.

“So just over a year from now you’re in Ottawa, and then we wait, what, another whole season until we announce the charity? It would have to be that long, right?”

“Mm,” Ilya said. He really didn’t care.

“So that’s a year and a half or so until we can announce the charity. Which is the same as announcing our friendship,” Shane said as Ilya slid his hands into the back of his shorts and pulled him closer.

“And then what?” Shane continued. “How many more years do you think you’ll be playing?”

“Fuck, Hollander,” Ilya groaned. “I don’t fucking know.”

“I’m just trying to get an idea of how long we’ll be—what are you doing?”

Ilya had dropped to his knees, and he felt it was pretty obvious what he was doing.

“I am celebrating,” Ilya said. He tugged Shane’s shorts down until they hit the wood of the deck. “You should join me.”

“Now? My head is racing! How can you even be thinking about sex right now?”

“Because it is a beautiful day. And we are alone. And I met your parents. And I want you to calm the fuck down. And I love you.”

“Oh.”

Ilya leaned in and took all of him in his mouth, enjoying the novel sensation of the soft flesh resting on his tongue.

“Oh, fuck, Ilya,” Shane gasped.

That’s more like it.

He wanted to fuck Shane. Right here on the deck. But that would require stopping so he could go inside to grab lube and a condom. Stopping was unappealing.

For now, he put all of his efforts into taking Shane apart.

“You’re way too good at that,” Shane sighed.

Ilya hummed his agreement.

The thought hit him that this was it. This was going to be his sex life now. No more meaningless—but undeniably hot—one-night stands. No more booty calls while he was on the road. He was going to give it all up for this chance at something lasting. For the chance to hold the heart of the beautiful man who was exhaling Ilya’s name like it was the most important word in the world.

Ilya had no problem giving it all up. He would give up so much more, if he needed to.

“Ilya. God, Ilya. So good. Don’t stop. I love you.”

In response, Ilya reached for his hand and tangled their fingers together. I love you so much. Don’t leave me.

“Oh. Yes. Fuck, yes. I’m gonna—oh, holy shit, Ilya. Fuck, fuck...”

Ilya squeezed his hand as Shane pulsed and spurted into his mouth. Ilya swallowed and licked him clean with long, lazy strokes of his tongue.

“Fuck. Get up here,” Shane panted.

Ilya rose to his feet, pulling Shane’s shorts up with him, and Shane hauled him in for a very sloppy kiss.

When they broke apart, Shane gazed up at him with sex-drunk eyes.

“Wow,” he said. “We’re really going to do this, aren’t we?”

The statement was vague, but Ilya understood. “Yes. If you want to try this, I will do what I need to do.”

“I will too. Anything. I want this. I want us.”

Ilya brushed Shane’s hair out of his eyes. “Then I am moving to Ottawa, I think.”

“And we’re starting a charity.”

“And we will become friends.”

“And we’ll see each other all the time. As much as possible. And spend the summers together. Here.”

“Yes.”

They kissed again. Ilya couldn’t believe they had solved this impossible problem. Maybe it wouldn’t go as smoothly as they imagined, but it was a plan.

“And when I retire,” Ilya said, “after I have won twelve Stanley Cups and thirteen MVP awards—”

“The hell you will.”

“And you have been retired for, like, eight years already because you got very bad at hockey...”

Shane laughed. “Okay.”

“Then I will bring you to that dock out there. I will have hundreds of candles all over it...”

“That sounds like a fire hazard.”

“Is on the water, Hollander. Fucking relax. Will be beautiful, you will love it. The candles. The lake. The full moon.”