Sleet Kitten (Sleet, #1)

by S.J. Tilly

“You, my little Kitten, have some claws hidden in that enticing package. And right now, I’m looking at the only gorgeous creature that has captured my attention tonight.’

Jackson is right in front of us, at the back wall behind the bench, helmet in hand, still where he slammed against the glass, giving Frat Boy a death stare. I can almost hear the words as I read them off his lips: “Back. The. Fuck. Off!”

“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.”

“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.”

Then, I was heating up a cup of coffee in the microwave and hit the wrong button, putting way too much time on the timer, scorching the coffee and making my entire house smell like burnt asshole.