Page 17 of Heated Rivalry 1
Rozanov licked under Shane’s ear, and Shane gasped.
“Did you like it?” Rozanov asked again.
Shane swallowed his saliva and his pride. “Yes.”
“Would you like me to lie on the bed and let you do it some more?”
“Letme?”
Rozanov chuckled against Shane’s neck. “I’m a nice guy.”
Shane shoved him and Rozanov stumbled back, pants around his knees. He laughed as he tumbled backward onto the bed.
Now that there was some distance between them, Shane could take in the full splendor of Rozanov’s mostly naked body. Rozanov seemed to enjoy the attention, and stretched his muscular arms up over his head, grinning and arching his long torso. He had dark brown hair on his chest and trailing down from his belly button to his bobbing erection, which was still slick with Shane’s spit.
Rozanov sat up and pulled his pants all the way off, along with his shoes and socks. Shane’s eyes fell on the way his stomach muscles flexed as he curled forward, and on his thick, muscular thighs.
Once again, Shane felt very young. Very boyish. He realized that he was still mostly dressed, and he wasn’t sure if he should change that or not.
Rozanov made the decision for him. “This is a bit...not fair.” He moved a hand through the air, back and forth between them.
“You want me to...”
“Da. Yes. Let me see you.”
“You’ve already seen me. In the shower.”
“I want a better look.”
Shane removed his clothes quickly. Being naked in the presence of other guys was not foreign to him, but there was nothing familiar about this scenario. He stood in his underwear for a moment, then tried not to blush as he removed them.
Shane stood with his arms out.Well?
Rozanov grinned and waved a hand over his own chest. “So smooth.”
“Look...”
“Like a swimmer.”
“I don’t...it’s natural, all right?”
“Yes. Come here.” Rozanov patted the bed next to him.
Shane blew out a breath and moved onto the bed. He lay flat on his back next to Rozanov, unsure of what to do next.
“What do you want?” Rozanov asked.
“I don’t know.”
“No?” Rozanov asked, and he leaned over him and kissed him. “Nothing?”
“I...”
“What about...” Rozanov pressed a palm against Shane’s erection and curled gentle fingers around it. “Okay?”
Shane nodded. It was shockingly okay for Ilya Rozanov—a guy, a hockey player, hisrival—to have his hand wrapped around Shane’s dick.
“Relax,” Rozanov said, and kissed him again. His hand stroked Shane carefully, without lube, and Shane was spellbound. Rozanov’s soft, accented words and his gentle hands and his confident kisses were all working together to ensnare him.
