Hockey Books Romance Novels & Stories

WRENLEY Squeezing past a row of knees with two sodas, Tess settled into her seat. "I still don't get why you wanted to come to this.” she hands me one of the soda in her hand. "You hate sports. I mean you yourself told me and I quote “Hockey is basically an excuse for attractive idiots to launch themselves into walls. "But isn't that right?” I replied pointing to the rink. “It's just men with sticks chasing a puck," I take the soda I didn't ask for. "You wanted company. I'm being a good friend. Don't make it weird."

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.

“We’re something. You let me tattoo you. You called me daddy last night. That’s pretty official in my book.” “Shut up, I was dick-drunk and you know it,” I snapped, face burning as I leaned down to kiss him hard to make him stop talking. Our mouths moved together messy, tongues sliding, and I kept arguing between kisses. “I’m still playing hockey. End of discussion. You can be jealous all you want but I’m not quitting for you.” “Fine, play your little games,” he muttered against my lips, nipping my bottom one. “But this ass is still mine when you get home.”

Expect: ❄️ hockey rivalry 🐺 possessive alpha energy 🖤 forced proximity ❄️ locker room tension 🐺 secrets that can ruin everything 🖤 emotional damage ❄️ hate that slowly turns into something much more dangerous 🌶️Spicy smut Noel thought hiding the truth would keep him safe. He was wrong. please note, it's a slow burn romance but I promise it will worth your time and of course good smut🌶️🌶️🌶️ Leave a comment if you're ready to get marked on ice🧊

I flipped us, driving into her hard until I spilled deep inside her with a groan, burying my face in her neck. After, we lay tangled and sweaty. She traced the tattoos on my chest while I rubbed her back. “You okay?” I asked. “Seem a little distracted.” She hesitated, then shrugged. “Mom brought over some old hockey stuff. Fan-girl crap from when I was younger. It’s embarrassing.” I smiled, pulling her closer. “Nothing embarrassing about loving the game. Or players.” I kissed her forehead. “You don’t gotta hide shit from me.” She smiled but didn’t say more. I let it go, holding her tight. Her kindness with Spencer, her smarts at work, even her little secrets—they all made me fall harder.

Quickie nudges her again and then pulls her arm forward in an attempt to prompt her to shake my hand. I look at her hand, nod my head in acknowledgement, but don't shake it. It's obvious that she feels uncomfortable and I don't touch any woman that doesn't want to be touched, even something so innocent as a handshake. “I go by Candy,” she finally says. “She really likes hockey,” Quickie interrupts before I can say anything. “Hockey players,” Candy corrects. “And hockey coaches, too. Right, Candice?” shoots back Quickie, emphasizing the name difference. Oh, this is not really happening, is it?

“Excuse me?” “You heard me.” Jax stepped closer, towering over him. His lip curled. “Figure skaters prancing around in sparkly shit, bending over for each other in the locker room. Bet you love sharing showers, huh? Getting all close and personal with your ‘partners.’” A couple of hockey players nearby chuckled, glancing over with interest. Elias’s jaw tightened. He was used to the occasional jab, sports worlds colliding, but this felt targeted. Personal. The guy’s eyes burned with something darker than casual homophobia.

I have one job, win this game. Mitchell skates past me, shoulder-checking me harder than necessary. “Nice punch, Hart,” he sneers. “Too bad your head’s not in the game.” I don’t look at him. I don’t react. I just keep skating. He hates that. Next shift, he tries again, a shove to my back, a slash to my stick, a muttered insult about my team. Still nothing. I’m not giving him the satisfaction. But then he says her name. “Hey, how’s your little ice princess? Lena, right? Shame, she got hurt. But maybe I can help her 'heal' up”

And then I feel it, swallowing me whole. Something wild pulls low in my chest, like a thread tightening somewhere deep in my ribs. Like my wolf just woke up and I don’t know why. I feel the blood drain from my face and my wolf go still. “Madison?” Adrian says quietly. “I’m fine,” I say, but I’m not listening to him anymore. My pulse quickens, a silent acknowledgement inside that I know this feeling. I just haven’t felt it in ten years. Slowly, I turn my head and look across the bar. There’s a table in the back full of hockey players that catches my attention. They’re loud and laughing, leaning back in their chairs like they’re almost too important to even be here.

Ever. I pointed to the rest of the stuff, and he started moving it all, quiet and strong. The room felt smaller with him in it, but not in a bad way. Still, my mind wouldn’t stop. What if this was a trick? What if he got tired of me and left? The tension in my chest made it hard to breathe. After a few minutes, he broke the silence. “So, you like hockey at all? Or is it just something you clean up after?”