Booktok Hockey Novels & Stories

That was why I felt comfortable enough to come out to her. My fingers tightened around the book as my brain scrambled to make sense of it. No way. Noah Carter, straight-laced hockey captain, was reading gay erotica novels? A soft sound behind me made me glance over my shoulder. He was out cold, one arm now flung over his face, his shirt riding up enough to show his mouthwatering V-line that led into his pants. Heat crept up my neck and I turned back to the shelf, knowing I couldn’t put back the book or he’d know I touched it.

My hockey step brothers Chapter 22 I didn’t know how long I had been sleeping , but when I opened my eyes , there was a shadow watching me . In fact it wasn’t just any shadow but it was a man watching me . I could feel the way the person looked at us , there wasn’t any smile on the person's face and I knew that . I slowly opened my eyes and when my eyes opened , he was sitting there . Stephan 's hands were tightly wrapped around mine And I was just under his grip .

"Her book system?" "She organises them by how much she hates them. Most hated on the bottom. She told me..." I stopped when ealised he was looking at me with an expression I didn't want to examine. "What?" "Nothing." He looked away. "So she hates hockey." "She told me multiple times." I said. "Okay." Ryder nodded slowly. "So it can't be grand. Anything big, anything that looks like a move, she's going to think you're managing her again."

Least ways growing up they were, now Dario is not so close with them. “A romance book, fake dating. She is a photographer brought in to the hockey team to cover them on and off the ice. They don’t like each other but their feelings will evolve.” I fold my arms in front of my chest, my nipples erect and budding wanting him to stretch out his arm and touch me with those big, masculine hands of his. “Ah, so like us then. This is called enemies to lovers is it not?” “What do you know about books?” “You have seen my library. You need to relax Lucky. Trust me you will find this all much easier if you give into your body. Let me show you how to feel like a proper woman should feel.”

Bonded. Unbreakable. 🏒🔥

I ignored her banter, staring out the tinted window as the driver pulled up to the team facility's private entrance. Inside, the chill of the ice hit me instantly. Early morning drills were already in full swing. The sharp, rhythmic scrape of steel against ice echoed off the empty stands, paired with the heavy, echoing thud of pucks slamming against the acrylic boards. I stepped up to the glass with my tablet tucked under my arm, watching the line rotations with an eagle eye. "Alright, watch the gap on the blue line!" Coach shouted from the bench, blowing his whistle sharply. "Tobias, pick up the pace! Your transition is entirely too slow!"

He started to smile, poking my knee with his finger. “Are you saying hockey isn’t wholesome?” Aria noticed the gesture and her eyes met mine as she smirked. I felt my cheeks begin to heat up and I shifted away from Timothy’s touch with a grunt. “Do you know how many people lose their teeth in hockey? Or wind up with broken ribs?” I asked. “Something else.” Timothy hummed in thought and leaned back against the couch. After pondering for a few moments, his eyes lit up. “I like walking my dog, Duke,” he said.

But Hockey is a beast of a game, and I f*ckin love it. But after my marriage, I stopped watching and even checking live scores. I stopped everything that would remind me of Cicero, deleting him everywhere around me. … We were already seated in a row right across the Islanders' bench before the game started. Papa is seated comfortably with Lugo, Cicero's best friend. They are having a deep conversation that they didn't want me to listen to. So, I focus my attention on the ice, biting down on my lips. Papa is wearing a jersey with Cicero's name and even offered me one before we left the house, but I turned him down.

Her hand in Ethan’s. Captioned: “The Nerd & The Hockey King… exposed.” And underneath Hundreds of comments are already pouring in.

The rink was empty, except for the faint scraping of skates against the ice. Mila pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders, her breath visible in the chilled air. She had stayed late to check the equipment, organize some notes, and make sure everything was ready for the next day’s session. The solitude was familiar, comforting even. She liked this quiet moment after the chaos of practice, when the echoes of shouting and skates pounding the ice had faded, leaving only stillness.