Sleet Kitten (Sleet, #1)

by S.J. Tilly

Steph chuckles, “Oh, I have all sorts of booze stashed in this place. Just because he’s Mr. Athlete doesn’t mean I’m going to stay sober every time I visit.” Pulling one of the island stools over to the cupboard, Steph climbs up, opens the top door above the fridge, and does Vanna White hands to showcase the nearly dozen bottles of liquor she has hidden up there. “Holy crap!” I say at the same time Mary says, “Why didn’t you show me this sooner?”

“You have to stop being so fucking perfect, Kitten. I’m trying to make it through this day in a civilized manner. I’m doing my best to resist the urge of throwing you over my shoulder and taking you back home. But if I’m going to succeed, you need to stop saying all the right things, making all the right sounds, and looking at me like I hung the damn moon. We have this place, then dinner, then I’m taking you home. Not a moment before. Nod if you understand what I’m saying.” My mouth suddenly feels very dry, but I’m able to give him a small nod. His hands slide up a few inches until they’re covering my thighs. “And I’ll give you tickets to my games. I’ll do so as often as I please, and I’ll give you as many as I please. I’ll dress you up in my jersey, and any other item of clothing I can think of, branding you as mine. You’ll take them, you’ll wear them, and you’ll be fucking happy about it. Nod if you understand me.” I nod. His stare doesn’t get any less intense. “Good. Now get your fine ass out of the vehicle.”

Fuck it. I’ll shock her socks off. “And night. He left this morning.” There’s a loud clatter on her end of the call. Pretty sure she just dropped the phone. It’s nearly a minute before I hear my mom’s voice again. “Warn a woman, would you? You gave me a hot flash.”