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“It was in 2013. The first time, we were in that stupid apartment of yours in Montreal. So many pillows, you hired someone to decorate. I knew it was your first time, like that, with anybody. I wanted to make it good for you so badly. I’d thought a lot about it. I’d planned for it, like I never would have for anybody else I’ve been with. I didn’t expect— I didn’t realize how right it would be. I wanted to stay, I wanted to stay in that bed forever just to hold you.”
“Holy shit,” Shane says.
Ilya sighs, glares at him. “You have got to stop saying that in response to my romantic declarations. Is bad for my nerves.”