Summary:

Hollander’s eyes slid past him, stopped, came back and held, his eyes widening. Ilya smiled, a mocking curve of his mouth, and raised his cup in acknowledgment. Number one, he mouthed, and while he couldn’t be certain in the dim light of the bar, he thought he saw Hollander flush.

Then his chin lifted, challenging, and Ilya felt something hook behind his ribs, a sharp tug, like a fish on a line.

 

Or: Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander make a deal - whichever of them debuts as a #1 NYT bestseller owes the other a blowjob