Wooed Back By The Hockey Star 소설 & 이야기

“You are involved with that Bennett boy again? After everything? Really, Aria, I thought you had more sense. More gratitude for the opportunities I gave you.” I swallowed hard, my hands clenching at my sides. “This isn’t the time or place. And Ward isn’t… ” “Don’t interrupt me,” he snapped, his narcissistic mask slipping just enough to show the irritation beneath. “You have always been so selfish. Chasing after hockey players like some lovesick fool. Do you have any idea how that makes me look? I built a name for myself despite your mother abandoning us, and here you are, dragging it through the mud again.”

"I guess... he was just shocked to see us together." ​Ethan tilted his head, a challenging spark in his eyes. "Well, a real hockey player doesn't let outside circumstances ruin his game. His team lost tonight because of him. But you seemed to enjoy the view. Didn't you?" ​My cheeks flushed. "Yes. I did. And I have you to thank for that. Thank you for helping me make my ex-boyfriend look like a complete fool." I paused, looking into his piercing eyes. "How can I ever repay you?"

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."

Rosalie's POV “Good luck with the game,” I said, leaning in. My lips brushed his cheek, warm against the chilly air coming off the rink. He leaned down and kissed me back, “Thank you.” He started to turn, his skates cutting a little line in the ice, but then he stopped and looked back at me, his eyes all serious and heavy. “After the game…we need to talk, okay?” My heart did this weird drop, like when you miss a step on the stairs and your stomach floats up into your throat for a second. I forced myself to nod, keeping my face totally still, just playing it cool so he wouldn't see.

I wriggled my body, trying to slip away from him, but he laughed and twisted his fingers inside me. A moan escaped my lips, forcing me to shut my eyes in shame. "It's either you come on my fingers, or the wedding is off, and I'll get to m*rder your little fiancé tonight." He threatened. I didn't need a soothsayer to know that he meant every word he just said. To everyone out there, Cicero might be the sweet and famous Hockey star, but to some of us who really know him, he is anything but sweet.

Yet this girl, who spent two years writing my name in a notebook she never wanted me to see, walked right through my defenses in a single afternoon. Maybe it was because she didn't flinch when I spoke. Most people looked at me and saw a future NHL draft pick or a target. When I talked to Cheryl, she looked at me like I was just a person. Or maybe it was because she handed me her own wreckage first. The shattered ankle, the bitter sister she still wouldn't name, the version of herself that hockey had stolen away. I've never been good at taking without giving something back. Richard made sure of that early. In our house, nothing was ever free.

God, I did. Once, at junior league hockey camp, I landed a backhand so clean it felt like it sliced the air itself. Moretti glanced my way and said, “Nice shot, Bennett.” That offhand compliment just a few words sent me floating. It was the first time hockey became more than a game. More than a dream. It became a pulse in my veins, a fire I couldn’t ignore. I followed him obsessively after that camp, every stat, every highlight reel, every interview. God, it’s mortifying to admit now, but I even had a picture of him pinned above my desk. Every glance twisted something in me, something I couldn’t name then. I told my mom about him, gushed about his skill, his charm…how I misread him entirely.

“What are you talking about?” I leaned closer so only he could hear my voice. “If I really wanted you to be sold as a pimp, how did you escape?” I asked. Ethan's eyes widened. He'd probably never thought of that question. Another deafening slam hit the door. The wood cracked, and James shouted again from outside. “OLIVER! I’M COMING IN!” I glanced toward the door and sighed. “You've become a star player just like you've always wanted, and now you have Kane William in your rink. Will you fulfill the promise you made to me?”

For a guy who wears a helmet and sweats so much, I never would have taken you for such a prima donna. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> "I got an image to keep up." _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> "What's that?" Khyle snorted. "Poster boy or p**n star?" _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> "Hmm. Yeah. And all round good-looking NHL star and ladies' man." Gunner thumbed his chest, and Khyle took to looking nauseous. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> "Oh my God. You're serious."

It had been exactly three winter seasons since his soul had entered the binding mating contract with Finn Reyes, and their shared territory had never pulsed with a more vibrant, harmonious pack frequency. The high-velocity chaos of the professional ice hockey world was currently locked in its brief summer hibernation circuit, leaving the star alpha entirely anchored to his domestic sanctuary. A sudden shift in the wind carried a rich, intoxicating scent of charred hickory and seasoned meats from the massive brick pit near the pool deck, instantly triggering a sharp spike of hunger within Val's biological centers. He adjusted his linen shirt, his hand instinctively brushing against the solid