Page 118 of Heated Rivalry 1
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.
