Heated Rivalry

1) Prologue 2) Freckles Meet a Smirk 3) Room Fourteen Ten

October 2016. After a devastating 4-1 loss at home, Montreal Voyageurs captain Shane Hollander drives not to his penthouse but to a secret condo he owns in the Plateau—a building he purchased years ago to protect the most dangerous secret in professional hockey. Forty minutes after the game, Boston Bears star Ilya Rozanov knocks. They've been doing this for seven years: rivals on the ice, lovers in hidden rooms. The sex is rough and needy tonight, tinged with the humiliation of the loss. But afterward, when Ilya brushes fingers through Shane's hair and calls him beautiful, something cracks open between them. Shane deflects with humor. They shower together. They promise to meet again in three weeks. Shane sits alone with a beer, touching his lips where Ilya's mouth had been, knowing he'll never find the strength to end this.

Two seventeen-year-olds shake hands and ignite a decade

At the World Junior Championships in Saskatchewan, Shane Hollander—Canada's golden boy, fluent in two languages, beloved by devoted parents—approaches Ilya Rozanov outside the rink, hand extended. Ilya, smoking a cigarette in the bitter cold, is standoffish and barely comprehensible in English. Russia wins gold; Shane hangs silver around his neck like penance. Six months later at the NHL draft in Los Angeles, Rozanov goes first overall to Boston, Shane second to Montreal. That night they silently race each other on hotel treadmills until both nearly collapse. Sitting on the gym floor, their fingers brush over a shared water bottle, and the air thickens with something neither can name. Shane flees to his room and, for the first time, gets himself off thinking about his rival. Draft day ends with confusion that will take years to resolve.

A photo shoot shower leads to their very first night

A CCM endorsement shoot forces them into close quarters at a Toronto rink—holding poses inches apart, fighting laughter. Afterward, in the communal shower, Shane's body betrays him: he grows visibly hard staring at Ilya. Instead of mockery, Ilya starts touching himself. Shane confesses he was thinking about him. That evening Shane gives his room number before he can talk himself out of it. He brushes his teeth, changes his shirt twice, and switches on a television he doesn't watch. Ilya arrives in a black shirt, one curl escaping onto his forehead. Shane sinks to his knees and gives his first blow job—clumsy, overwhelmed, electric. Ilya reciprocates with startling skill. Afterward, they agree this stays in this room. Both know one room will never be enough.