Heated Rivalry (Game Changers #2)(93)

“Oh, is it a clear night?”

“Yes. Of course. And I will get on one knee—”

“Ilya—”

“And I will say, ‘Shane Hollander, will you please marry me so I can become Canadian citizen faster?’”

Shane burst out laughing, and shoved him. “You’re such an asshole.”

“And you will say yes, because you are a nice, helpful guy.”

“No,” Shane said, taking his hands. “I will say yes because I will still be madly in love with you. And I’ll want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

And, oh god, Ilya didn’t deserve him, but he didn’t care. He was selfish like that.

“I mean it,” Shane said softly. “I want to have a life with you. I know it will be awkward, and will still involve a lot of sneaking around for a while, but I’m playing the long game here. So, yeah. Whatever it takes, I’m in.”

Ilya lifted their joined hands to his lips and kissed Shane’s knuckles. “Does this mean I get to see your apartment in Montreal? Your real one?”

“You can even keep a toothbrush there. I’m going to sell that other place. I was being paranoid when I bought it. I’m sorry.”

Ilya grinned. “Buying an entire building because you are nervous is very you.”

Shane shook his head. “I really am sorry. I just wanted to protect what we had. I should have invited you to my real apartment sooner. I want you there. I want you in my life. All of it.”

God, were they really going to be able to keep this a secret until they were retired? Now that they were both honest about what they were to each other, Ilya feared it might be impossible to hide their relationship from the world.

Especially when Shane looked at him like he was looking at him right now—like Ilya was worth all this trouble. Like he was worth loving.

“I want to tell everyone,” Ilya said. “Right now.”

Shane’s eyes went wide with panic. “No! Don’t. We have to stick to the plan.”

Ilya sighed dramatically. “You and your plans. What if I just kissed you on the mouth at the next All-Star Game?”

“I’ll punch you. I swear to god.”

“You wouldn’t. Not if I kissed you like this.” Ilya cradled Shane’s face in one hand, his thumb brushing Shane’s cheekbone, and kissed him. He took his time, and finished with little nips to Shane’s bottom lip. Shane, already boneless from the blow job, fell heavily against Ilya’s chest.

“If you kissed me like that I would push you to the ice and start tearing your gear off,” Shane murmured dreamily.

“That would be interesting.” Ilya’s cock was suddenly very interested in that imagined scenario.

“What if we just told our friends?” Shane suggested. “My family already knows. We could just...feel our way with the rest.”

“Mm,” Ilya said. “And what would your best friend Hayden Pike say?”

“He would probably think I was kidding.”

“You are known for your pranks.”

Shane laughed. “I want to tell him. I want him to know you like I do.”

“Really?” Ilya made the word as suggestive as possible. “Do you think he’d like to join us? A night away from the kids, maybe?”

Shane buried his face against Ilya’s shoulder, probably to hide his blush. “Stop it.”

“Or maybe if Rose Landry wants a sexual experience with you that isn’t a disaster...”

“No threesomes!” Shane said. “That’s my hard rule.”

“You’ve never tried it,” Ilya scoffed. “You might love it.”

“When have I ever loved something I thought I’d hate?” Shane said dryly.

Ilya chuckled and kissed the top of his head. “Let’s go to bed.”

“It’s four in the afternoon.”

“Yes, but when I am done with you it will be bedtime.”

“Promises.”

Ilya took his hand and pulled him toward the house. He picked up Shane’s vodka glass with the other. No sense wasting it. “And tomorrow, I am going to keep you in bed all day.”

“All day, huh?”

“Yes—bring the bottle in, yes?—and maybe the day after that also.”

“For two weeks?”

Ilya shrugged. “I could maybe extend my stay.”

Shane plunked the vodka bottle on the kitchen counter. “You can?”

“A little. Yes. If you will have me.”

“I do have some other hot Russians coming to stay with me in a couple of weeks...”

Ilya gasped. “Shane Hollander! You have not ever told me that I am hot before.”

Shane frowned. “I haven’t?”

“No. I would remember.”

“Well, I mean...obviously you’re hot. Like, I-can’t-believe-I-get-to-kiss-you hot.”

“Come upstairs. You can kiss me and tell me about Ottawa. And maybe get me off because I am fucking dying.”

Shane raced past him to the stairs. “Only if you beat me.”

Ilya laughed. “Game fucking on, Hollander.”



Epilogue


Sixteen months later—Montreal