Heated Rivalry

Shane had taken advantage of the moment, while Ilya had still been asleep, as an opportunity to drink his fill of him. Ilya had been on his back, his arm draped over his forehead, his long fingers curled against the pillow. Shane had traced a fingertip down that arm, over the swell of Ilya’s bicep, because he couldn’t help it. The morning light was making everything beautiful, and Shane was in love, so he had leaned in and lightly kissed Ilya’s wrist.

When Ilya’s eyes had fluttered open, Shane’s face had been inches away from them. He had seen the initial confusion in Ilya’s expression before it softened into a shy smile.

It had been a perfect morning.

Shane nodded at him awkwardly and received a slow, absurdly sexy smile in return. Shane looked away quickly and moved to sit next to Rose.

“Good game tonight,” Rose said.

“Oh, thanks. You watched?”

She smiled apologetically. “I wish. We just finished filming for the day a couple of hours ago. I was checking the score on my phone, though!”

She took his hand and squeezed it, then pulled it over to rest on her knee. It was probably as natural as anything for her, but Shane felt like everyone was just staring at their joined hands.

What is wrong with me?

A server appeared and Shane ordered a beer. Everyone else seemed to be drinking vodka. He was definitely not going to get into that shit tonight.

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.

He had the endurance of a stallion with most partners, but he couldn’t ever seem to control his body when he was with Shane.

“I need to kiss you here, or else I will do it out there.”

Shane Hollander, will you please marry me so I can become Canadian citizen faster?

“Because it is a beautiful day. And we are alone. And I met your parents. And I want you to calm the fuck down. And I love you.”

“I’m just trying to get an idea of how long we’ll be—what are you doing?”

“If you mix that with cranberry juice I will drown you in the lake.”

“You would leave Boston?” Mom asked, stunned. “For Shane?”

Ilya didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”