Page 45 of The Long Game (Game Changers #6)

They kissed some more, and Shane said, “I love you.”

By the time they finished kissing they both had tears streaming down their cheeks. “Is this because I almost died?” Ilya teased.

“No. It’s because I almost died.”

Ilya brushed the tears on Shane’s face with his thumb. What could he even say to that?

“So, um,” Shane said, after a long, fragile moment, “the ring.”

“Yes, right.” Ilya took the ring from Shane and inspected it for a moment. A simple black band with a gold interior. Very classy. He smiled at Shane, and attempted to slip it onto his own finger. It didn’t quite fit.

“Nuts,” Shane said, looking disappointed. “I didn’t know your ring size.”

“Is okay.” Ilya removed the ring with some effort. “Am I supposed to wear it now? Or is it for after we are married?”

“You know,” Shane said, “I have no idea. I just thought I should have a ring for this.”

Ilya handed the ring back to Shane, then loosened and removed his necktie. He opened the top buttons of his shirt, then reached back and unclasped the gold chain around his neck. He removed it, then held out his palm for the ring.

“Oh,” Shane said, then handed him the ring. Ilya slipped it onto the chain until it nudged up against the crucifix pendant that had been his mother’s.

“Here,” Shane said, and reached for the chain. Ilya turned his back to him, and Shane fastened the necklace back in place.

“Did you buy one for yourself?” Ilya asked. “Or is that my job?”

“I was going to buy the matching one. I just...wanted to make sure I needed it first.”

Ilya raised his eyebrows as he turned back to face Shane. “You thought I would say no?”

Shane at least had the decency to look embarrassed about it. “I don’t know. I just didn’t want to be cocky about it.”

Ilya laughed, a little wetly because he was still a mess, then cradled Shane’s face with both hands. “Buy the ring.”

They were both half crying as they kissed, their breath stuttering and their lips stretched into wide smiles. A terrible kiss in theory, but Ilya had never experienced one better. Shane Hollander was going to be his husband.

Shane untucked Ilya’s dress shirt from his suit pants and slid his hand underneath. He pressed his palm to Ilya’s chest, over his heart.

“God,” Shane whispered.

Ilya covered Shane’s hand with his own. “Still alive. I told you.”

Shane kissed him again, but this time there was an edge of desperation to it, a ferocity that Ilya easily returned, clutching at Shane’s sweater, at his skin, at his hair.

Their breathing changed from hitched and snuffly to heavy and panting. Ilya helped Shane out of his sweater and the shirt underneath, then they worked together on removing Ilya’s shirt.

“Ilya,” Shane said reverently. His eyes were dark and anguished. Ilya couldn’t have that, so he kissed him again. He pulled their bodies tight together, letting every sense fill with Shane. Letting Shane know he was solid and real and alive and extremely interested in fucking him.

They fumbled with each other’s belts, got their pants and underwear and, with a bit of unavoidable awkwardness, their socks off.

Shane smiled at him when they were both naked, wide and bright and beautiful.

He was staring at Ilya’s chest, and Ilya glanced down to see the ring there, glinting in the light of a million candles.

“Yours,” Ilya said.

“Mine.” Shane crashed into him again, kissing him hungrily.

There was a coffee table covering most of the plush rug in the middle of Ilya’s living room. Without breaking the kiss, Ilya used one foot to push it aside. He heard the soft thump of several candles hitting the carpet, and was thankful Shane had chosen to go electric.

“What—” Shane asked. Then, “Oh,” as Ilya scooped him up and laid him on the rug.

Ilya took a moment to just look at Shane, laid out like that in the magical lighting he’d worked so hard to create. His long hair fanned out under his head, and his dark eyes danced with joy and desire. His freckles were all bunched up because he was smiling so widely his nose was wrinkled.

Ilya took one of his hands, tangled their fingers together, and pinned it on the rug over Shane’s head. The ring dangled in the air between them.

“I love you so much,” Shane said softly.

Ilya swallowed. “I will be very proud to be your husband.”

He leaned down and captured Shane’s mouth in another slow, luxurious kiss.

Shane gripped his fingers tighter and rolled his hips under him, sliding their erections together.

It felt fucking incredible, simple and explosive at the same time.

Ilya’d had every intention of fucking Shane right here on the rug, but he didn’t want to stop what they were doing.

He wanted to be pressed this close to Shane, touching everywhere.

He wanted Shane to rock against him just like this, chasing his pleasure while getting Ilya closer to his own release with each slow, controlled grind of his pelvis.

It was the control that was unraveling Ilya more than anything. This wasn’t frantic rutting—this was Shane loving Ilya with his body. Careful, steady thrusts that matched the rhythm of their pounding hearts.

Ilya realized they weren’t even kissing anymore. Their gazes were locked, lips parted as they both huffed and shuddered into the inches between them.

“Is this okay?” Shane whispered.

“Yes. Perfect,” Ilya assured him.

Shane’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, his head tipping back on a gasp. He opened them again and smiled shyly. “Feels so good.”

“I know.”

Ilya kissed his throat, his jaw, and then his mouth again. His own orgasm was building, and he was torn between urging it on and wanting to pull back. He didn’t want this moment to end.

Except there would be more moments like this. A whole lifetime of them.

“Shane,” he breathed.

“Yeah,” Shane said shakily. “Me too.”

The steady movement of their hips began to lose its rhythm as they both teetered on the brink of climax.

They breathed into each other’s mouths, foreheads pressed together, until Shane whimpered and Ilya felt the first hot splash of his release on his skin.

It was enough to break the dam inside him, and his own release surged and erupted.

Shane wrapped his arms and legs around Ilya’s trembling body, pulling him even closer. They kissed sloppily, and laughed about it. Finally Ilya rolled onto his back, and Shane immediately rested his head on his chest. He traced a fingertip around the ring that was now resting up near Ilya’s throat.

“I was thinking summer,” Shane said.

“Summer for what?”

Shane lifted his head and met Ilya’s gaze. “For everything. Coming out. Going public. Getting married.”

Ilya’s heart flipped. “Yes?”

“Yeah. I know it’s going to be a shitshow, but I’m tired of being scared of being found out. I want to tell people, on our own terms. I think I can handle anything that happens, as long as going public is a choice we made ourselves. Together.”

“That is what I want,” Ilya agreed. “We tell people ourselves. Together.”

Shane smiled. “I might have already told my parents that I was going to propose to you.”

“Did they approve?”

“Of course. I think we already are married, as far as they’re concerned. But they’re also a little unclear about our plan. So am I, but we’ll figure it out.”

“We will,” Ilya agreed. “And until summer?”

“I guess more of the same? Except maybe we could...be less careful?”

Ilya’s eyebrows went sky high.

“I mean,” Shane said quickly, “we could hide in plain sight a bit? I think it would work. I just learned that J.J. thinks I have an unrequited crush on you.”

“Un-what?”

“Like, he thinks I’m in love with my straight friend.”

Ilya laughed. “That must be very hard for you.”

“I’m just saying, people really think you’re straight.”

“And if I told people I am bisexual? Would that ruin everything?”

Shane frowned as he seemed to consider it. Then he said, “If you want to come out, you should.”

“I can wait. Until summer. Is not long.”

“No,” Shane agreed.

They kissed, then Shane went back to resting against Ilya’s chest. Ilya stroked Shane’s hair, enjoying the quiet and the excitement that was crackling through him. Summer! Not ten years from now, but this summer.

After several quiet minutes, Ilya said, “You have tomorrow off, yes?”

“Mm.”

“I am skipping practice.”

“Is it optional?” Shane murmured sleepily.

“I don’t care.”