Chapter 33: Sleet Kitten: Chapter 33

Skating with Jackson Wilder was a bucket-list item I didn’t even know I had. He was so calm and patient with me while I got used to being on the ice again. I didn’t do terribly, but he did prevent me from falling a couple of times. Not that I’m complaining, since that just meant he had to touch me. But even when he wasn’t supporting me, he was holding my hand or pushing against my back, making me go faster. I was so jittery with excitement that I felt like a silly kid with a crush. Until he kissed me. Then I didn’t feel like a silly kid anymore. I felt like a silly woman. A woman in way over her head with a guy who still seems too good to be true.

We’re back in Jackson’s car, headed to yet another mystery location. This one apparently serves hot drinks, so my guess is a coffee shop. But I should probably stop assuming things when it comes to Jackson.

I tap my fingers against my thigh and look out the window. “So, you and Alex talked for quite a while.”

“Did we? It didn’t seem like that long,” Jackson replies innocently.

My eyes drag over in his direction. “Uh-huh. What was the favor he wanted to ask you? I hope you turned him down.”

“I agreed to it actually. I already texted him, while you were turning in your skates.”

“What? Jackson, you didn’t have to do that. Whatever it is, I can get you out of it. He doesn’t need you giving him tickets to games. He can buy his own.”

“That’s a good idea. I should send him some tickets. He can go with you to the next home game.”

“Umm, no. To all of that. If he didn’t ask for tickets, what did he want?”

“I agreed to”—Jackson takes a long pause—“speak at his school for career day.”

Oh. Huh. That’s not at all what I expected from my brother. It’s actually a surprisingly great idea.

Slowing to take a turn, Jackson reaches over and places his hand on my forearm. “Kitten, your silence is worrying me.”

“I was just thinking how nice that is. And how mature of my brother to use that as his favor. Not that you owe him a favor. Not at all. But I assume people ask you for stuff all the time. And now that you’re doing that, he knows damn well he can’t ask you for tickets or anything else.”

“Interesting theory. Not too many people have the ‘only ask for one thing’ mindset. But I bet you’re right about Alex.”

“I’m sorry, Jackson.”

He looks over at me, brows furrowed. “What for?”

“For humanity in general. It must suck to have people asking you for things all the time. I know you’re very generous, but it’s still a burden. And I hope you know that I’ve loved coming to your games, but I’ll gladly buy my own tickets to come watch you play. In fact, I insist on it. You can’t keep giving me expensive tickets.”

Jackson turns down an alley and pulls into a small parking lot. Turning off the engine, he unbuckles, gets out of the car, and circles around the front. He didn’t say a word after I finished talking about the tickets, but I did see his jaw clench. I’m not sure how to read this mood, but staying put seems like the safest option as he approaches.

Jackson pulls open my door, reaches across my body to unbuckle my seatbelt, then grabs my knees and spins me so I’m facing him.

Jackson has to duck down to avoid hitting his head on the doorframe. But he does, and he doesn’t stop until his face is just a few inches from my own.

Hands still on my knees, Jackson talks in a quiet but firm voice. “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.”

I bite my lips closed, afraid that – if I open them – the bumblebees banging around in my chest will fly free.

Jackson dips his head out of the car but doesn’t back up. Slowly, I slide out of the passenger seat until my feet hit the ground, keeping eye contact with Jackson the whole way.

He gestures for me to move so he can shut the door. As I step past him, he smacks my ass.

I let out a yelp, spinning around to face him. He just smirks and takes my hand.

I feel like I’m getting to know the hidden Jackson a little bit better… And I like it.

We walk around the corner of a building and, just like with Squeeze Me, we’re in what looks to be a mainly residential neighborhood. Looking up at the establishment ahead of us, I see the name is written in big wooden block letters above the doorway. The letters are chipped and painted in yellow, while the rest of the storefront is a dark green. The name reads Cuppa Chapters. From the style and overall feel of the building, I’d say we are going into a bookstore.

As always, Jackson holds the door open for me to go through first. Stepping inside, I’m immediately hit with the wonderful aroma of fresh-ground coffee beans—and books. I stop so suddenly that Jackson bumps into me.

He chuckles. “See something you like?”

“Like? I’m in love. What is this place? I feel like I stepped into Narnia… or Diagon Alley! How did I not know about this?” My pitch hits a high note as I finish my ramble, but I don’t even care. This is absolutely my new favorite place.

“Come on,” Jackson says, placing his hand on my back. “I’ll show you around.”

Jackson leads me through a maze of bookshelves that reach all the way to the ceiling. From what I can tell, there is everything from brand new best sellers to heavily worn, decades-old texts. The sections aren’t labeled, so you’d either need to ask for assistance or just take your time strolling through.

Every time we turn a corner, there’s another cluster of chairs. Some with tables, some with ottomans, and some large overstuffed chairs you could read in for hours. Reaching the back of the store, we come to a larger, semi-open space that has an eclectic mix of tables and chairs, surrounded by an outer ring of loveseats and couches. In the far corner is a slightly raised platform that holds a single high-back chair. Along the rest of the back wall is a coffee bar. With the espresso machines on proud display, the setup is very steampunk-meets-grandma’s-library.

We haven’t said anything since we started our wander through this little slice of heaven. Jackson has obviously been here before, but I appreciate that he’s letting me take it all in on my own terms. Like all our interactions, this feels familiar.

Standing in front of the menu board, Jackson moves to stand directly behind me. With his hands on my shoulder, I know he’s close, so I lean back into his body. Jackson slides his hands around to my collarbones before bringing both arms around my upper chest in a loose hug. Being intimate like this shouldn’t be so easy. But since it is, I let myself melt into his embrace even more.

When he rests his chin on the top of my head, I’m thankful that I left my hat in the car.

“This is one of Steph’s favorite hideouts.” I can feel the rumble of his chest against my back. I force myself to focus on his words, not the vibrations, so I don’t slip to the floor in a boneless pile of female hormones. “When she brought me here for the first time last year, she made me promise to keep it a secret. She says it does well enough already, and that if my “meathead friends” started showing up, it would ruin the vibe. But I have a feeling she’d be okay with me bringing you here, though.”

“I can’t believe I’ve never heard of this place. Seriously, I’m in awe. And you can tell Steph that you’re the only meathead I’ll ever come here with.”

Jackson gives my body a squeeze. “Know what you want to drink? I can promise that there are no wrong choices here.”

Reading back through the menu, I see that – along with coffee and tea beverages – they have an extensive selection of wines.

Deciding to be decadent, I choose the coconut matcha latte.

Tipping my head back and to the side I look up at Jackson, “I know what I want.”

His eyes travel to my mouth. “Me too.”

Placing our orders, Jackson having a decaf cinnamon latte, I once again try to pay, and he literally growls at me. I relent.

Waiting for our beverages, Jackson keeps an arm slung around my shoulders. “Every Saturday evening they have someone do a reading at the top of every hour. It’s usually only about fifteen minutes or so.” He glances to the clock behind the bar. “We have about twenty minutes until the next one starts. Would you like to sit here at the tables? They don’t do microphones, so if you want to listen, we should stay close.”

Glancing around, I spot a comfortable looking loveseat in the corner and gesture toward it. “How about there?”

Mugs in hand, we settle onto the overstuffed cushions. I don’t bother pretending that I’m not going to cuddle up against Jackson. I’m pressed against his side, with my legs crossed so I can hold onto the mug by the handle and rest the bottom on my knee. Jackson places one hand on my thigh, while his other holds his drink.

We watch as some of the tables fill up in anticipation of the reader.

“Do you know what the reading is about?” I ask.

“No idea. I think they have a sign-up sheet somewhere so anyone who wants to read can do it. The times I’ve been here before it’s been poetry, but I think that was just random chance. Steph says some are authors, and others are just people reading a chapter out of their favorite book.”

“It’s a clever idea. I can definitely think of some books I’d like to read from.”

“If you sign up, you have to tell me.”

“Will you wave around a foam finger, cheering me on?”

Jackson squeezes my thigh. “Absolutely. I’ll be your biggest cheerleader.”

Looking at him out the corner of my eye, I give him a once-over. “Biggest is an accurate description.” He winks, and for the sake of my sanity, I ignore it. “Hmm, I think I’d want the full experience. Pompoms, a little crop top… some hot pants.”

He nods. “So, you did go snooping around my house the other night.”

“Oh my god!” I say laughing.

Before my mind can wander to that mental image, a woman steps onto the platform and takes a seat in the single chair. She looks to be around seventy, give or take a decade. I’m bad with age. She has a definite hippie vibe with her long grey hair secured by a knitted headband, and her windchime looking earrings so long they reach her shoulders. She has jangly bracelets lining each wrist, and a long-sleeved, floor-length dress tie-dyed in ranging shades of blue. And from all the way back here, I can see a giant turquoise ring on her finger. I instantly want to be her friend.

As she digs around in her oversized bag, I take the first sip of my drink. And I moan. Holy secret coffee shops, how is this so good? What the hell is it made from, pixie dust and pheromones?

As he leans down to whisper directly into my ear, Jackson applies pressure to my thigh. “You’re going to need to keep those sounds to yourself, Kitten. We’ve flown under the radar so far today, but if I maul you right here, right now, someone is bound to make another video of us.” He uses a finger to tilt my face toward him. “You have a little something…”

Then instead of using his thumb, or a napkin, or his goddamn sleeve, he licks the corner of my mouth.

Literally. Licks.

A small, slow lick that I feel everywhere.

I blush as I clench my legs together.

Jackson chuckles.

Damn him.

Thankfully, the lady upfront clears her throat. “Good evening, lovely people. My name is Lily, and I’m going to read an excerpt from the book that my granddaughter just published.” The gathered crowd lets out a communal aww. “The title is Laird of My Heart.”

That’s so sweet. This cute grandma is out here supporting her family and doing it in a very personal way.

When she starts, I let myself fall into the tone and lilt of her speech. She has a great reading voice. You can hear her age, but it’s still strong enough to be understood clearly. She started her reading midway through the book. I’m only half paying attention to the words, mostly listening to the tune of her voice, catching enough of the story that I can tell it’s a historical romance. Probably set in 1500s Scotland. I’ve read a few dozen from this genre, so I’m familiar.

I’m also familiar with the typical buildup to a sex scene. And… Oh. My. Grandma. I feel my heart rate pick up, and the warmth of Jackson’s palm on my thigh suddenly feels hot.

I tense.

Jackson must’ve felt my shift, because he quietly asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Umm… you’ll see,” I murmur, suppressing a giggle.

Looking back toward Lily, I brace for what comes next.

“The sound of her slap against his face echoed around the bed chamber. She was so upset with him for risking his life, and she only just now realized why. She was in love with him. And she felt the truth of it deep in her bones. Why it had taken her so long, she’ll never know. The look he gave her in return was new… different… hard to read. She held still for a moment, while she waited to see how he would retaliate for the slap. But instead of striking her as she expected, he crushed his lips against hers. She had never felt a passion like this before, and for the first time ever, she felt a dampness forming between her thighs.”

I force myself to keep looking forward, as I hear Jackson choke on a laugh.

“The girl pressed her body against his, wanting to get closer. Her body knew what it needed, even if the girl didn’t understand. With their bodies together, the girl felt a strange hardness pushing against her belly.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I hear Jackson mutter under his breath.

Stealing a look at him, I see he’s tipped his head back against the couch and is staring at the ceiling.

“When the girl releases a needy moan, the man grabs her bodice with both hands and rips the fabric straight down the middle. Tossing her onto the bed, the laird growls, before following her.” Lily stops.

Looking up, she closes the book and smiles. “Thank you all for coming. If you’d like to hear what happens next, please purchase the book.”

There isn’t so much applause, as there is a smattering of stunned, slow-clapping from a few individuals. One man, though, stands suddenly, claps vigorously, then grabs his date by the hand and rushes away. I have to put a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing.

Looking back over to Jackson, I see he’s still staring at the ceiling. Aiming my gaze south, I notice there’s a bit of a bulge in his jeans where there wasn’t before. I can’t blame him. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little turned on right now. I get all sorts of worked-up by books, all the time. But it is a little weird for it to happen in public. While hearing it read out loud. By a sweet old lady.

Leaning my head on Jackson’s shoulder, I smile at him. “You gonna be okay, big guy?”

“Yep.”

“You want me to go buy you a copy of Laird of My Heart?”

Jackson barks out a laugh before looking down at me. “Only if you promise to read the rest of it to me out loud.”

I bite my lip. “Tempting.”

Letting out a sigh, Jackson shakes his head. “Seriously, Kitten, I don’t know why all the strangest things happen when we’re together. I swear to you, every other time I’ve been here it’s been very PG. And Steph comes here all the time. I’m positive she would’ve told me if she ever sat through a reading like that before. I mean, I think she’d be thrilled, but she still would’ve told me about it.”

Patting his knee, I force myself to stay focused and avoid the temptation of running my hand up higher. I still vividly remember the feeling of Jackson between my legs when he pressed me into the wall last night. I know what he’s hiding down there. And after Lily’s little reading, I’m tempted to skip dinner and get to the part where we lose our clothes.

“Earth to Kitten.”

I shake myself back to reality. “Huh?”

“I think I lost you there for a moment.”

“Oh sorry, just thinking about that laird.” I wink.

“Well, that just won’t do.” Jackson clicks his tongue. “Let me take you to dinner. I’ll make you forget all about the laird and his lady.”

As I follow Jackson out of Cuppa Chapters, I send Grandma Lily a quick wave and a thumbs-up.