Asra’s Reviews > Heated Rivalry > Status Update

To know that the two people he loved the most had touched the skin of Ilya Rozanov, and had looked into his eyes, even for a second, and that Shane now had concrete proof that all three of them existed in the same world.

they would shake his hand and Ilya would nod politely at them and tell them it was nice to meet them. Then it would be over, and they would have no idea—no idea—how much of a relief it would be for Shane to have witnessed just that simple contact.

“I like you, Hollander.”
It wasn’t an earth-shattering confession, but the words still moved
Shane enormously.
“I like you too, Rozanov.”

“Mine.” Ilya’s breath tickled Shane’s skin when he spoke the single
word.
“Yours,” Shane said dreamily.
“All of this. For two weeks. Is mine.”
Forever, Shane wanted to say. Forever if you ask.

“Don’t tease me,” Ilya said. “I have waited too long for this.”
“Mm. Months.”
“Years,” Ilya sighed. “Years I have wanted to have you in your real
bed.”
Shane froze. “Years?”
Ilya wrapped long fingers around Shane’s jaw, and tilted his head up to
meet his gaze.
“Yes.”

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!”

Ilya cheated and murmured, “I would stay here forever if I could” in
Russian. He felt Shane sigh around him, but it sounded more dreamy than
exasperated. Maybe he understood what he meant. Maybe some feelings
couldn’t be hidden behind foreign words.

“I have an idea,” Shane said.
“What?”
“Let’s be honest with each other. For these two weeks, let’s just...say
what we’re actually thinking. Maybe...say how we really feel.”
I can’t, Ilya wanted to say. I can’t because if I do you’ll think I’m
pathetic, or, worse, you’ll say it back and then what the fuck are we
supposed to do?

Scott fucking Hunter was kissing a man. Not, like, one of his teammates
on the cheek in an “I love you, bro” kind of way. Scott Hunter was kissing
a man wearing street clothes full on the fucking mouth.

“I’m fucked,” he murmured in Russian. “I am so fucking in love and it’s
horrible.”