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He turned his head to find Ilya sprawled out on his stomach beside him, deep asleep with his mouth hanging open and hair covering most of his face.Shane’s heart swelled. This beautiful man was all his.

Ilya leaned in for a kiss, and Shane dodged him. “No way. Not after you ate that.”“Come on,” Ilya said, grinning as he leaned in again. “You can taste chocolate again.”“No.”In the end, Shane couldn’t resist kissing him. It was better than chocolate.

“I did mean what I wrote,” Ilya said. “All of it.”Shane lowered his hand, cleared his throat, and said, “So a little brush with death and you turn into Mr. Poetry?”

“I choose you, Ilya. I promise I will always, always choose you.” Shane’s eyes began to shimmer. He took a deep breath and said, “Ilya Grigoryevich Rozanov, will you marry me?”

“Is this because I almost died?” Ilya teased.“No. It’s because I almost died.”

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.”

“You should design my next tattoo,” Ilya said. “Like, a cool animal.”Luca stared at him. “Are you serious?”Ilya shrugged. He hadn’t thought much about his next possible tattoo, but it would be nice to have one designed by a teammate. “Sure.”“That is a lot of pressure,” Luca said.“If it is too much I will get someone else to do it,” Ilya teased. “D, do you want to design my tattoo?”Dykstra grinned. “You want a stickman or a heart?”

“Fingers, Hollander. Put your fingers in me. And fucking relax.”Shane scoffed. “You’re the one who needs to relax here.”“You are the one who is taking forever.”“I liked it better when you couldn’t talk.”“Then make me forget how to.”

It was after ten o’clock at night when Ilya’s phone finally lit up with a text from Shane: I ate a Snickers bar.Ilya sent him a FaceTime request right away.

“Do you want to know a secret?” He bent over Shane so he could speak directly in his ear. “I feel like I am fucking a king right now.”“Ilya—”He grabbed a handful of Shane’s hair and tugged his head back. “Do you know how powerful this feels, fucking a king in his throne room?”“Fu—fucking hell, Rozanov.”

After a week of being apart from Shane, he wanted to tear his own skin off.

They kissed, and Shane said, “What do you need right now?”“Sleep,” Ilya answered honestly. “In the morning, probably coffee.” He grinned impishly. “And maybe five or six blowjobs.”Shane smiled so wide his eyes crinkled. “Blowjobs aren’t a cure for depression, Ilya.”“Are you a doctor now?”Shane laughed and kissed him again. “Go to sleep, idiot.”

“Do you know what I want to do?”“Is it filthy?”“No. I want to make a video.”“That sounds filthy.”

“What I’m trying to say, and Yuna’s always been the better speaker, is I’ve always felt so lucky to have a son as wonderful as Shane that I never expected to be blessed with a second one.”