“Barely! Ryan Price fucking walked in on us kissing! What if that happens again?”
Ilya grinned. “Am I so impossible to resist?”
Shane lightly kicked Ilya’s ankle. “As if. It’syouI’m worried about.”
“I will try to control myself.”
Shane played with a curl of hair near Ilya’s ear. “No kissing,” he said sternly. “Not even behind closed doors, okay? Not until we get home.”
“Yes, no problem. I barely even like you.” Ilya’s words were undermined by the way he was pressing his cheek into Shane’s palm.
“I’m worried about Hayden too,” Shane said.
“Kissing you?”
“No! Giving us away, I mean.”
Ilya huffed. “Is possible. He is not smart.”
Hayden Pike was Shane’s teammate, and, for reasons Ilya still couldn’t understand, was also one of the very few people on earth who knew the truth about Shane and Ilya’s relationship. And he was one of the coaches at their camp, despite Ilya’s protests that he wasn’t coach material.
Shane tugged hard on the curl he’d been gently twisting. “He’s my best friend.”
“I thought I was your best friend.”
“Hayden’s my best friend that I don’t kiss,” Shane clarified.
“Too bad for Hayden.” Ilya stood, stopping halfway to give Shane a quick kiss, then went to the coffeemaker. He filled two mugs with black coffee, placed one on the table beside Shane’s laptop, then began adding cream and sugar to his own mug. Shane was doing a strict performance diet thing, so any dairy products or sugar in the house were Ilya’s.
“Thanks,” Shane mumbled, about a minute after Ilya gave him his coffee. He was looking at his phone now.
“Yuna again?”
“Yeah.”
“Should we go?”
“No. It’s okay. Enjoy your coffee.” Shane stood and turned to face Ilya. “How’d you sleep?”
“Fine,” Ilya lied. “Better than you, probably.”
“Probably.” Shane removed his reading glasses, then raked his gaze over Ilya’s body. “You’re unfairly handsome in the mornings, you know that?”
Ilya grinned. “Tell me in Russian.”
Shane’s nose scrunched up in concentration. “Um...ty ochen’ krasiv?”
Ilya’s heart fluttered the way it always did when Shane attempted Russian. “Close enough.”
“No. Tell me how I could have said it better,” Shane insisted.
Instead, Ilya kissed him, slow and lazy with Shane’s palms gliding over Ilya’s bare chest.
“You need to get dressed,” Shane murmured. “And eat something.”
“I will get McDonald’s breakfast on the way.”
“Gross.” Shane stepped back and retrieved his coffee from the table. “I’m serious about the no kissing today. And don’t, like, be sexy.”
