“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.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ilya felt like a fucking superhero as he got dressed for his next game.
The press of the ring that hung around his neck against his chest, under the layers of jersey, pads, and athletic shirt, was still foreign, but it sent a thrill through him every time he felt it. No one had asked about the ring. Probably no one had noticed it. Ilya wouldn’t give a straight answer if anyone did ask. He had a reputation for being mysterious anyway.
He’d met with Galina that afternoon after Shane had left, and they’d mostly talked about his near-death experience. He hadn’t told her that he’d gotten engaged. It still felt too new, too precious, to share with anyone.
Galina had probably noticed the change in him, though. He knew an engagement ring wasn’t a cure for depression, but he was happy to ride this high for as long as he could.
Which was why he hadn’t exactly gotten into his mental health concerns with Shane, like he’d planned. He was still optimistic that he could fix himself without troubling his future husband. It was probably stupid, but, well, Ilya had been feeling a bit stupid these past few days.
Tonight’s game was at home, and they were facing the number one ranked New York Admirals. Ilya wasn’t intimidated. He was Ilya fucking Rozanov, and it was time for his team to start winning.
He walked to the middle of the locker room. “Everyone listen.”
The room immediately fell silent. Ilya wasn’t surprised. He rarely gave speeches, preferring to lead with action more than words. Admittedly, he had no idea what he was going to say now, but he needed to say something.
He decided to start with something attention-grabbing. “The New York Admirals are not a better team than us.”
As he expected, his teammates began to scoff and laugh at that. Ilya talked right over it. “They are not. They have Scott Hunter, we have me.”
Across the room, Ilya could see Troy’s lips curve up. He kept going. “They have Tommy Andersson—a good goalie. Young, talented, yes. We have Wyatt Hayes—a great goalie.” He found Wyatt and grinned at him. “Old, talented.”
That caused the room to erupt into laughter and applause. Wyatt smiled back at him and said, “Experienced.”
Ilya continued until he’d named every player in the room, pointing out what made them great. What made this team great.
“I am fucking tired of losing. Enough. We are going to win this game tonight, and we are going to keep winning.” Since he was already making lofty promises, he decided to aim even higher. “We are going to fill every seat in this fucking arena. We are going to surprise everyone and we are going to the playoffs this year. Not next year. Not in the future. This fucking year.”
Not one person in the room rolled their eyes or waved his bold predictions away. They all cheered, and it made Ilya’s heart soar. He loved this fucking team.
“We went through something together. It was fucking scary. But we are alive. We are all alive and I don’t plan on wasting another second of it.” No more losing, no more hiding his feelings, no more hiding his boyfriend. No more being afraid of his dark thoughts. No more being afraid of flying.
He finished the speech with, “Let’s fucking go.”
The roar of his teammates was deafening.
They won the fucking game.
Ilya scored, Troy scored, Luca scored. Even fucking Tanner Dillon had scored. Wyatt made great saves all night. And every minute had been fun.
They partied in the locker room after, then moved the party to Monk’s. This time, Ilya had gone too. He wouldn’t have missed it.
“You are so bad at pool,” he chirped at Bood while bending to take a shot. “How am I supposed to do this when there are so many of your balls in my way?”
“That’s my strategy,” Bood said with a grin.
Ilya huffed, took his shot, then watched in dismay as one of Bood’s balls went into a side pocket. Bood cracked up. “See? You do my work for me.”