Novel & Cerita Lgbt Hockey Romance

I was supposed to hate him. Falling for him was never part of the plan. Jamie Bronte has everything people dream of—talent, money, fame, and a future waiting for him in the hockey world. What he doesn’t have is freedom. Trapped beneath the expectations of a powerful father who controls every part of his life, Jamie has perfected the art of pretending everything is fine. Until Asher Blackstone arrives. Asher is everything Jamie shouldn’t want. Arrogant. Competitive. Infuriatingly irresistible. And his newest rival on the ice. Everyone knows Asher carries a dangerous secret. Six months ago, his former best friend disappeared under suspicious circumstances, leaving behind a sc

Liam growled, thrusting harder. Her body broke apart, climax tearing through her in a violent rush. She screamed as her release flooded around him. Liam kept pounding into her, chasing his own pleasure. When he came, it was with a guttural groan, his seed spilling deep inside her. Hannah, flushed and breathless, kissed Isabel’s lips tenderly, then moved lower, her mouth finding Liam’s cock and cleaning him with soft, loving licks, completely unaware. As Liam collapsed beside Isabel, Hannah curled against his chest, sighing happily.

They’re all sunshine and rainbows, completely oblivious to my mental breakdown. “You look great,” Lily says, giving me a bright smile. “Totally fine,” I lie, forcing a smile. Lily beams. “Good, because we’re going to the hockey rink. Time to drool over sweaty, shirtless guys!” Mia rolls her eyes. “You’re so embarrassing, Lily.” “Excuse me, but one of those sweaty guys could be my mate!” “Or another alpha who’s a walking red flag,” Mia deadpans, side-eyeing me.

Bram murmurs, making the man laugh out loud, "Not because you're... not because of anything except you look like a really fancy person." He does. He’s wearing the most extravagant suit here. It’s emerald green and the lapels are sparkly. And I’m pretty sure he’s wearing very light makeup. "Well, I do enjoy ballet and other fine arts, but there's something about hockey I can't get enough of. Probably the raw masculinity of it all," he continues, giving Bram a long look. It makes Bram grab me tighter and put me in front of him, "And you're Little Annie, aren't you? I've been dying to meet you since you came back home. My name is Louis St Lorraine, I'm—"

They’d smiled at each other, and for a second, it looked like a fucking scene out of some teen romance movie, two star-crossed lovers reaching for the same book in a library, fingers brushing, eyes locking, hearts racing. I nearly lost it. And then Luke, one of my teammates, leaned over and muttered, "Damn. That girl looks like a sex doll with that hair." That was it. That was when I stood up and walked out. Because fuck that. A reporter cleared her throat, snapping me back to the present. Blonde, sharp-eyed, the type that got off on making people squirm. "Logan," she started, her smirk playing at the edges of her lips. "Hockey fans all over have been dying to know 'what’s your type?'"

Then the distance turned sharp. Now he barely looked at me. When he did, it was with that blank hockey-player stare, like I was just another face in the crowd he skated past. I turned the corner toward the library — my safe zone during lunch — and nearly collided with a broad chest wrapped in a letterman jacket. Strong hands caught my elbows to steady me. The scent hit first: clean sweat, mint gum, and something colder, like ice from the rink. Jax. Up close he looked even taller than on the ice. Dark hair still damp from morning practice, jaw tight, eyes the kind of blue that used to make me feel seen. Today they flicked over me quickly — recognition, then something unreadable.

​"There's a party tonight in celebration of the hockey team and their victory. You are coming. No room for objection, babes. So come on, take a shower and get dressed." ​"But I don't want people to see me like this," I protested, gesturing to my red eyes. ​"That's why I said take a shower." She looked at me with a casual, knowing smile. ​"Fine. But if I’m not comfortable, we’ll leave." ​"Fine by me." An hour later, I was dressed in one of Lily's clothes and layered with waterproof mascara. ​The hockey house was a war zone of scent and sound. Cheap beer, expensive cologne, and bass so heavy I could feel it in my bone marrow.

“You could just check.” I let out a sigh and shook my head as I navigated to the school's gist platform. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the pinned post of the page. It was the picture of Damien holding my hand, with the caption — 'North Crest Cheer Captain Dumps School Hockey Captain for Westlake Rival Captain.' My fingers curled tightly around my phone. “What the fuck?” “Uh… now you get why everyone is going crazy,” Chloe clicked her tongue, then laughed softly. “So tell me… is there really something going on between you and Damien? Cause, that would be crazyyy.”

And somehow, despite knowing absolutely nothing about hockey, I found myself leaning forward every single time he touched the puck. Every time he got close to the goal, I found myself holding my breath. My stomach dropped whenever someone checked him. For some reason, I cared enough about Knox not to want him to get hurt. Which was ridiculous. I hated him…. right? Yet somehow, I barely noticed Mike the entire game. Every time my eyes wandered across the ice, they found Knox. The girls behind me weren’t helping. “He’s so hot.” “Look at his arms.” “I would let that man ruin my life.”

“Yeah. I'm just coming back from there.” “How is he?” “He'll be fine. He just needs a few weeks to recover.” Genevieve nodded, her expression becoming a little more serious. “That's good.” “Yeah.” I looked back at the file, but I wasn't reading anymore. My mind had already gone back to the hospital, to Malakai's father standing beside his bed and announcing that he wanted his son to quit hockey. I rubbed my forehead again. Genevieve noticed. “You really need a break.”