Sleet Kitten: Book One of the Sleet Series
Sleet Kitten: Chapter 4

I can’t believe I slept through the whole movie! I completely missed out on our cuddle time. Well, I mean I was obviously there for it, I just don’t remember it. I’m a little mollified by the fact that, at some point, Jackson also fell asleep. When I finally awoke, the ending credits were still playing, and Jackson’s head was tipped against the back of the couch, mouth shut, sleeping silently. It’s not fair. He’s even good-looking when he sleeps. Can’t he at least pretend to be human and have his mouth wide open, with drool on his chin? I’m sure that’s how I looked.

Luckily, I had my face buried so far into his body that there was no way he could have seen me. And fuck, what a body. It’s a real body. Big and burly and strong and warm and big. Have I mentioned big? It took all my willpower to keep my hands still, rather than run them all over his chest.

My stirring must have woken him, because he slowly blinked his eyes open and looked down at me. It was the most adorably adorable thing I had ever witnessed. I kind of wanted to shave off one of his eyebrows just to bring him down a peg and onto a more even playing field. But he’d probably replace a way to make that look good, and that would just annoy me even more.

Waking up also made me realize that I really had to use the bathroom. Like – if I had laughed, even a little, I would totally have peed my pants. Dress. Whatever. So, climbing off the couch I asked to use his ladies’ room and he pointed me in the right direction while he shut down the stuff in the theater.

Which brings me to now. I’m still in the bathroom, fretting, and if I don’t get out of here soon, he’s going to think that I’m suffering from stomach problems. I like this guy. I like him a lot. I have decent self-confidence, but I’m pretty sure this guy is out of my league. And not just because he’s good-looking. And he is beyond good-looking. But also because he’s clearly loaded, and probably famous. Or at least famous to people who watch . . . whatever the hell sport it is that he plays.

Gah! What am I supposed to do? Do I ask for his number? Do I put myself out there like that?

No. No, nope, no. I’m leaving this in his hands. His big, strong, capable hands. Ack! Okay, I need to get over myself and get out of here.

Stepping out of Jackson’s powder room, I spot him strolling across the condo in my direction.

“Thank you for sharing your movie with me. Sorry I slept through the whole thing.”

“You’re welcome. And even if you can’t prove it, now you can tell people that you’ve watched it. It truly is a crime that you hadn’t seen it,” he smiles.

“Okay. Well, thanks again. I should really head home now.” Biting my lip, I gather up my purse and shoes, and head toward the door.

I can hear Jackson walking behind me. “I wish I had a pair of shoes in your size I could give you, since you can’t walk in your broken ones.”

Reaching the door, I turn back toward him. “Honestly, I’m kind of glad you don’t. I’m not sure if I would want to wear the shoes of some ex-girlfriend or one-night stand.”

Jackson’s grin is a bit devilish as he says, “I was thinking more along the lines of my sister’s shoes. But I kinda like that the idea of another woman sleeping over gets your fur up. My Kitten is getting a little green, I think.”

With an incredulous look I tell him, “You can be a bit of a cocky ass, you know that?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Jackson steps so close I can feel the body heat radiating off him. Leaning in, he puts his lips next to my ear. “Yeah, I’m cocky all right, but I think you might like that about me. And you’re a feisty little vixen, and I know that I like that about you.”

Pulling away from me I hear the click of the door opening behind me. His long arm somehow reached back and grabbed the handle, all while he was distracting me with his words and his hot breath on my neck.

“Goodnight, Kitten. Sweet dreams.”

Not trusting my mouth to say anything that wouldn’t be horribly awkward, I turn and walk out Jackson’s door. I don’t even exhale until I’m down the hallway and hitting the button to call up the elevator. I think I hear him shut the door behind me, but I’m not willing to turn around to look. My heart couldn’t take it if I locked eyes with him again. It’s still going crazy, and he didn’t even kiss me. He didn’t kiss me. He didn’t really touch me. But my body is lit up. I feel like we just had a bout of energetic foreplay and a single touch would set me off at this moment. How does he do that?

And what does it mean that he didn’t try to kiss me? Did he not want to? Did he think I wouldn’t approve of a kiss? How the hell am I supposed to not overthink this?

The elevator door dings as it slides open. Stepping in, I press the button for the lobby and sag against the wall. It’s not until I’m exiting the building, phone in hand, that I realize he never asked for my number.

Well, shit.