Page 13 of Heated Rivalry 1
“Sorry,” Shane said, trying to school his features back into a fierce glare. It was no use. As soon as he looked at Rozanov, both men started laughing again.
“All right, we’ve probably got enough anyway. Let’s take a break and then we’ll do the film footage.”
“That was your fault,” Shane said as they skated over to the bench.
Rozanov shook his head. “Your face’s fault. Made me laugh.”
Shane bumped him with his shoulder.
The filming was much easier. They both donned CCM helmets and visors and skated around showing off for an hour or so—probably a bit more competitively than necessary. Shane was looking forward to seeing the final commercial. With some music and some voiceover, it would probably look pretty badass.
The director thanked them both, and the two hockey players were left to get showered and changed in the dingy dressing room.
Shane undressed quickly and went into the shower, which was, like most rinks, communal style with a row of showerheads facing each other on both sides of a corridor. If he hurried, maybe he could be out of the shower before Rozanov came in.
No such luck.
Shane had just gotten his hair wet when Rozanov entered the showers and stood under onealmost directly across from him. Shane’s eyes landed on the large bear tattoo on Rozanov’s left pec. It was absolutely ridiculous. He also noticed the gold crucifix that he guessed the guy never took off. The chain caressed the base of Rozanov’s long neck, the cross resting comfortably on his muscular chest.
Shane quickly turned his eyes to the floor. He had showered with hundreds of guys in his life, in rooms just like this one. It was just part of the game. He had neverlookedat any of his fellow players before. It was just...unthinkable.
He glanced up again, and saw that Rozanov had turned his back to him. Shane was left to stare helplessly at the display of naked, rippling muscle. His eyes trailed over Rozanov’s broad shoulders and down the muscles of his back down to his tapered waist and his...
Shane blushed hard. He couldn’t...why would he want to check out another guy’s ass? That was just weird.
But it was areallyimpressive ass. Not that he was comparing it to others. It was just...perfect. And as Rozanov scrubbed water over his face, the muscles in his ass flexed and Shane was transfixed.
And aroused.Visiblyaroused. In a shower. With Rozanov.
He only had time to look down at his thickening cock with horror before he noticed that Rozanov had turned back around.
Rozanov glanced down at Shane’s crotch and raised an eyebrow.
“Fuck off,” Shane grumbled. “It’s nothing.”
“Like what you see, Hollander?”
“No. It’s not... I was thinking about something else.” Shane wanted to die. He knew he didn’t sound at all convincing.
“Something else?”
Shane should have just left the showers then. He was clean enough. This was torture.
But Rozanov was grinning at him in a way that wasnothelping Shane’s...situation. And Shane didn’t seem to have the ability to move. Rozanov was teasing him, but he wasn’t punching him in the face.
Andhewasn’t leaving either.
Shane wished he could at least make himself look away from Rozanov, but he was spellbound. Rozanov just seemed to be considering him curiously, and maybe enjoying the effect heknewhe was having on him.
Just another goddamn thing for you to hold over me, Shane thought.
He was so busy being mortified that he didn’t immediately notice that Rozanov’s own dick was starting to swell.
The grin had faded from Rozanov’s face. His eyes were full of an intensity that was much more heated than what Shane had been facing during their photo shoot.
Shane needed to get out of here. This was too bizarre. He absolutely could not do...whatever this was.
But Rozanov let a hand trail down his stomach and wrapped it around his own dick to give it a slow, firm stroke.
