All Chapters of Pucking the Captain: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The freezing air in the arena always burned my lungs, but today, it was the sight of Julian Vane’s smug little smirk that was really suffocating me. I gripped my composite stick so hard my knuckles ached inside my taped gloves, watching the freshman weave through the defense like he owned the damn ice. He was fast, I’ll give him that, but he was also a reckless, mouthy brat who thought the rules didn't apply to him just because he had a pretty face and a natural gift for puck-handling. "Watch your blindside, rookie," I growled, pushing off my blades and closing the distance between us in three massive strides. He didn't even look back before I dropped my shoulder and slammed him hard into the boards. The impact rattled the plexiglass, echoing through the empty arena like a gunshot, and a fine spray of ice crystals dusted his helmet. He went down hard, but before I could even feel a single ounce of guilt, he was pushing himself up, his chest heaving, and he shot me a look that wa

"Unless... are you actually jealous?" I whispered, tilting my chin up to look at him. I knew I was playing a dangerous game, but the way his chest was heaving, the way his eyes were blown so wide and dark that the blue was almost swallowed by black, made my blood run hot. I could feel the heat radiating off his massive frame, wrapping around me like a physical weight, and even though my wrist still throbbed from where he’d yanked me, I didn't want him to let go. I wanted him to lose his absolute mind.For a second, the only sound in the cramped bathroom was the muffled, heavy bass of the frat party bleeding through the walls, and the ragged, uneven sound of our breathing. Jaxson just stared down at me, his jaw ticking so hard I thought his teeth might crack, and I could practically see the war happening behind his eyes. He was the captain, the golden boy, the guy who had everything under control, but right now, looking at him, I realized he was barely holding himself together by a

The team video room was dark, the only light coming from the massive projector screen at the front of the room where Coach was breaking down our defensive flaws from the last scrimmage. The air conditioning was blasting, making the room freezing, but I was sweating through my t-shirt because the guy sitting next to me was deliberately trying to drive me insane. I kept my eyes locked on the screen, trying to memorize the breakout formations, but my peripheral vision was completely hijacked by Jules. He was slouched in his chair, looking entirely too relaxed, and because he’d worn a slightly loose, long-sleeve practice shirt today, the collar kept slipping just enough to reveal the dark, purple edge of the hickey I’d branded on his neck last night. Every time he shifted, the fabric brushed against the bruise, and I could see the subtle wince on his face, which only made my blood run hotter. Before I could tell him to pull his collar up, Jules bumped his knee against mine under the

I woke up long before the alarm was supposed to go off, which wasn’t unusual for me, but the reason I was staring at the ceiling was entirely new. Usually, my mind was already running through defensive drills and power-play formations before my feet even hit the floor, but today, my brain was completely hijacked by the warm, heavy weight of Julian Vane sprawled across my chest. I lay perfectly still in the dim, gray light of the hotel room, listening to the soft, even sound of his breathing, and I just watched him. His hair was a messy halo against the white pillowcase, and his lips were slightly parted, looking so damn innocent that it actually made my chest ache. But then I shifted my gaze down, tracing the dark, purple bruises I’d painted across his collarbone and throat, and the innocence completely vanished. He was marked. He was mine. I wrapped my arm a little tighter around his waist, pulling his bare back flush against my stomach, and buried my face in his hair, my hand s

I couldn’t stop looking at him, and it was driving me absolutely insane. Even during the morning skate, my eyes kept drifting over to Jules, tracking the smooth, effortless way he moved on the ice, but my brain was completely stuck on the way he’d felt under me in the showers last night. I was still riding the high of it, still tasting him on my tongue, but there was this heavy, suffocating cloud hanging over him today. He was quiet. Too quiet. He wasn’t talking back, he wasn’t smirking, and he was actively avoiding my gaze every time I tried to catch his eye. It pissed me off, honestly, because I thought we had crossed some kind of line last night, but instead of feeling closer, he felt like he was pulling away, retreating behind that bratty little wall he always built when he was scared. I wanted to drag him into the equipment room and shake the truth out of him, but the coach was watching, and the media was circling, so I just had to grit my teeth and focus on the game. And t