Books, TV series, audiobooks—you name it. I’m in.

I haven’t had an obsession like this since Robert Pattinson stepped out of that Volvo wearing Ray-Bans. And honestly? I’m enjoying it. I’m not even pretending I want to tame whatever feelings Ilya is stirring up in me.

I wish I could say it was just lust. Or the god-forsaken amount of spice spilling out of it. But unfortunately, crazy-sexy upper lips only get you so far. And Ilya pressed exactly where it hurts most: childhood trauma. Damn that man. Damn that love.

Not the kind of love that fixes your problems. Not the kind you need. But the kind you want.

Ilya found his own solution to his family issues. He left to protect himself. His father had to die for him to be able to do it, but he did. And still, he carried the guilt. Still felt he should have done more. Better. Different.

There’s a very specific place, somewhere between purgatory and hell, for the people who never feel like they’re enough, who never feel like they do enough. And I know exactly where that place is! It’s the same place where you give everything you are, and no one ever loves you as you are. They love you as they want you to be. Which is not the same thing.

And damn Ilya for still risking it. For still wanting. For still pushing.

So if you ask me why I’m obsessed with Heated Rivalry—oh boy, I know exactly why. My boy Ilya (with some help from Connor, I must say) rewired my brain chemistry in a way that forced me to finally confront myself.

Damn them.