Wooed Back By The Hockey Star Novels & Stories

Willow “Are you two still not talking?” Ginny wants to know. “Nope.” I mutter, forcing another gulp of whisky down my throat. “Come on Willow. You have to fix this. Our guys won tonight. You think the star of the game deserves the cold shoulder from his girlfriend?” She’s right. Our hockey team won tonight. With Aiden back on the team, the game really did hit differently. He was like a beast out there, dodging offensive attacks, sliding and passing the puck with ease. His movements were equal parts ferocious, equal parts graceful.

STORY SEVEN: THE HOCKEY CAPTAIN’S FATHER SIN PART ONE The roar of the crowd was deafening as Noah Walsh, the star hockey captain of elite St. Xavier Academy, slammed the puck into the net for the game-winning goal. The arena erupted. Horns blared, lights flashed, and the entire student section went wild.

Aria. “Trenton Lockwood!!!” The cheers of the students and the cheerleading squad echoed through Winterridge University’s hockey arena, pom-poms waving in the air. Trenton Lockwood, the golden son of Alpha Liam Lockwood, the future pack leader, my stepbrother, skated through the ice, every stride precise, every movement effortless like he had been born for the role. Again, for the fifth time, he shot the puck into the goal post and the crowd erupted into louder cheers.

I could imagine the smirk on his face if he had said those words to me in person. Logan Black. This was just something normal for him, not a big deal. However, to me, it was the greatest achievement of my life. I stared at his name and message a moment longer than necessary. He was my biggest complication and my silent supporter. The golden guy of hockey— an arrogant, gorgeous, emotionally unavailable star who somehow got entangled in my life through the most unconventional arrangement ever. An arrangement I regretted agreeing to on some nights, and craved on others.

It could’ve been nice to have him stay, to share in the joy of our success together, but the weight of our relationship was overbearing. I tried to come to Timothy's door and re-invite him. “I take it you’re a fan?” I flinch and turn around at the deep, playful voice behind me. I found myself being towered over by a man in a hockey uniform. He had fiery red hair that was familiar to any long- time hockey fan. It was the club’s most famous hockey star, Alex. I was stunned to be in the presence of yet another hockey star. “Oh!” I shook my head and stepped away from him. “No, I’m not a fan. I mean... they’re good, but-”

Halloway’s gravelly voice called my name and then: “Skylar Reed assigned to the hockey team support program.” I froze. The hockey team. Not just “support,” but the actual team. And I swear my heart did something suspiciously similar to what it did when Ryder scored his third goal. Mixed feelings, anyone? On one hand, yeah, I got to be near Ryder. On the other hand… responsibility, sports schedules, potential chaos. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it. And then there was the added bonus of watching Ryder in full alpha mode 24/7, which was… distracting, to say the least.

I cry out as I push my ass backward, feeling Ryder pushing his massive cock all the way in me. In response, Ryder uses his free hand to pinch my nipples a little harder, and I part my plump lips in sweet pain. Ryder and I met when I was writing an article about him, the all famous hockey player. He hadn’t wanted to answer any of my questions until after I had gone on at least five dates with him.

"Any comment on your suspension from the hockey team? Is it true you were fighting over Maya Blackwood?" More phones appeared. More cameras. The crowd was getting bigger, and I could hear the whispers starting. "There she is – that's the girl from all the videos." "She looks even crazier in person." "I heard she seduced three different guys at the same time." My breathing was getting shallow, and black spots were dancing at the edges of my vision. I needed to get out of here, but Jaxon's protective grip was making it impossible to move. "Let me go," I said quietly.

"Hi, babygirl." "Father. You did not tell me the 'dumb jock' was an actual hockey star," I growl out, my eyes glued to the man on my computer, wearing a blue jersey with the number '17'. MY day of birth, by the way, "He is a very famous person. He's been on TV! He won a big flashy trophy called the Stanley Cup. ESPN has a thirty minute segment discussing him!"

vulnerable. Against my better judgment, I turned to face him. "Five minutes." He nodded, relief flashing across his face. He looked tired, I realized. Dark circles under his eyes, tension all over him. The mate bond made me want to reach out and smooth away the worry lines on his forehead, but I clenched my fists at my sides instead. "There's a hockey competition," he began. "Next month. It's a big deal—all the major packs send their best players. I've been selected to represent our pack."