The Long Game (Game Changers #6)(89)

“Relax,” Ilya chuckled. Shane realized he’d been grabbing at Ilya’s shirt, possibly trying to tear it off.

“I fucking want you,” Shane said. It sounded whiny.

“I know.” But instead of doing anything to speed things along, Ilya lightly kissed his forehead, then his right eyebrow, then his cheek.

Shane let out a long, slow breath and closed his eyes. He needed to accept that Ilya was in charge here. He stood very still and let Ilya kiss his jaw, his chin, his throat. He focused on Ilya’s breath against his skin, the fingers in his hair, and the steady beating of his own heart.

Ilya only wanted to pamper him. The least Shane could do was let him.

A sudden burst of yelling and laughter came from the hallway, outside the door. Loud male voices of their peers—Shane was pretty sure one of them was Dallas Kent. He flinched at the reminder that they were dangerously close to the rest of the hockey world here.

“Ignore them,” Ilya whispered.

“I’m trying.”

Ilya licked at the hollow of Shane’s throat, then kissed down until he reached the low collar of Shane’s shirt. “I like this shirt,” Ilya said.

“That’s why I wore it.”

Ilya peeled it away and kissed the newly exposed skin of Shane’s collarbone and chest. He kissed his shoulders as he gently pushed Shane backward onto the bed.

Shane shuffled on his back until his head reached the pillows. Ilya followed, hovering over him and continuing to drop soft kisses wherever he liked. It was luxurious and indulgent for Shane to just lie there while Ilya made him feel wonderful. It did feel like a prize he’d earned, and that fucking did it for Shane. He loved being rewarded like this.

Ilya kissed his chest as he undid Shane’s belt, and then the button on his shorts. He caught Shane’s right nipple in his teeth as he pulled his zipper down.

“Ah,” Shane gasped. He lifted his hips so Ilya could slide his shorts and underwear off and to the floor. Shane’s cock was hard and lay flat against his stomach, hoping for attention.

Ilya, of course, ignored it.

He continued to sweetly torture Shane with light kisses and caresses that made Shane’s toes curl and his blood thrum. He felt like he was sinking into the mattress, or floating to the ceiling. His head was cloudy with lust and happiness. He could still hear people—fellow NHL stars—talking loudly in the hall, but it seemed distant and unimportant. Nothing mattered but Ilya. The man he loved. His future husband.

“You are going to fuck me,” Shane murmured, “right?”

Ilya kissed Shane’s hipbone. “Maybe.”

Shane shivered. “God.”

Ilya laughed against his skin. “You work so hard on this body. You should like this attention.”

Shane did like it, dammit. “Take your shirt off?” He sounded pathetic.

Ilya sat up and pulled his T-shirt off over his head, then tossed it behind him. The ring glinted on its chain against his dark chest hair, and god, sometimes Shane forgot. It seemed impossible to be able to claim this man forever.

Shane reached out with one hand. “Come here. Kiss me.”

Ilya lowered himself and nipped Shane’s bottom lip, then pecked one corner of his mouth, then the other. When he finally took Shane’s mouth, he kissed him with maddening patience and control. Shane tried to take charge, desperate to move things along, but Ilya wouldn’t let him.

Be good, Shane instructed himself. Let him do this for you.

He wished Ilya would touch his cock. It was right there, but Ilya had positioned himself so he was mostly beside Shane, leaving Shane’s erection alone and miserable.

Shane tried to sneak a hand down to give himself a little relief, but Ilya grabbed his wrist and pinned Shane’s hand firmly on the pillow, above his head, then did the same with the other one.

“Stay,” Ilya said, his voice a low, delicious rumble.

Shane nodded, then said, to his embarrassment, “Please.”

Ilya’s lips curved up. “Please what?”

Shane didn’t even know. “Touch me. Whatever you want. Just...need you.”

“You have me, sweetheart.”

The first time Ilya had used that particular pet name, Shane had felt like he’d been struck by lightning. It had been so unexpected and earthshaking and hot. Shane could never get away with calling anyone sweetheart, but the word rolled effortlessly off Ilya’s tongue, in his sexy fucking accent. Despite that, Ilya rarely said it, so every time he did, it knocked Shane on his ass.

Ilya slid down the bed and began kissing Shane’s thighs, and up the crease along his groin. Shane shivered and gasped, but he kept his hands on the pillow and didn’t ask for more. After several minutes, he was rewarded for his good behavior when Ilya, without any real warning, sucked one of Shane’s balls into his mouth.

“Oh fuck,” Shane whimpered. Ilya was an expert when it came to Shane’s balls. He knew exactly how to roll them in his mouth, how to press his tongue along the seam of Shane’s sac, and how to use his fingers on the sensitive area just below. He’d made Shane come just from this, many times, but Shane didn’t think that was the plan tonight. He hoped not. “Fuck, Ilya. So good.”

Ilya hummed, which sent sparks shooting up to the tip of Shane’s dick. He released Shane slowly, letting the delicate orb slip out between his glistening lips. He stood and went to his suitcase in the corner of the room. A moment later he returned with a bottle of lube.