Sleet Kitten: Book One of the Sleet Series

The rest of the game has gone by in a blur. There is only a minute left in the third period, and both teams have managed to score, keeping us up by 1. Steph has been texting with her mom, and they’re going to meet up after the game to grab a drink. I’ve been invited, but I’m just going to head home tonight. After the stress of this game I need a good night’s sleep. And probably a fucking Xanax. Not that I have any.

Meghan and Izzy have become fast friends in the past twenty-four hours. I’ve overheard some of their conversations, and it sounds like they’ll be getting together this weekend to talk business stuff. I’m super excited to have Izzy and Steph as a part of our girl squad. I know it’s kinda weird to be friends with a guy’s sister when you’ve only just met, but it’s not like anything else we’ve done has been normal. And considering I already met his mama, hanging with his sister seems hardly noteworthy. Obviously, I have high hopes for Jackson and me, but – even if we don’t work in the long run – I hope Steph and I can stay friends.

With plans set for us all to catch up next week, the final buzzer sounds and the game is over. 

Once again, we’re standing and cheering as the players start to file off the ice and down the ramp past Meghan, heading towards the locker room.

I track Jackson’s progress, watching as he steps past the glass wall and onto the solid ground of the walkway. The standing crowd blocks some of my view, but as he approaches space miraculously clears, and I can see him. And he’s staring right at me. 

Slowing, Jackson hands his hockey stick off to a little boy in the first row. Even from my bad angle, I can tell the kid is ecstatic with this sudden gift. Never breaking eye contact with me, Jackson drops his gloves to the ground and ruffles the kid’s hair. 

Taking another step forward, Jackson removes his helmet and drops that to the ground as well. 

I don’t know how to read the expression he’s giving me, but my heart is beating wildly.

Another step and he’s reached our row. 

Jackson reaches up, puts a hand up on the railing next to Meghan, jams his skate onto a support bar below, and pulls himself up.

And then he’s there. Standing on the outside of the railing, at the end of our row, staring at me.

“Get over here, Kitten.”

His voice is full of barely restrained intensity.

The girls all press back against their seats making room for me to pass. With shaky steps and a galloping pulse, I inch closer. 

I’m still a foot away from Jackson when he grows impatient, growling, “Closer.”

I step closer.

He keeps a grip on the railing with his right hand, but his left hand reaches out and curls around the back of my neck.

Tugging me toward him, Jackson whispers, “Closer.”

I step up to the rail.

Jackson closes the distance, pressing his lips to mine. Firmly. 

My body shudders at the contact, and his grip on my neck tightens. Without my asking them to, my hands come up and grab the front of his jersey, pulling him further into me. 

He deepens the kiss. 

I tilt my head. 

His tongue brushes my lips. 

I die. 

The crowd goes wild.

Breaking our kiss, Jackson pulls back just enough for his gaze to meet mine. “In case there was any question as to who you should be kissing.” He smirks. “Meet me behind the locker room. Isabelle can show you the way.”

And then he’s gone. Dropped down to ground level and out of sight before I can even remember to breathe.

“Oh. My. Holy hot-guy gods!” Meghan shouts, startling me out of my daze. “That was the sexiest fucking thing I have ever witnessed.” She fans herself. “That was better than porn. Fuck it, I’m going to be watching that replay as porn.”

Izzy giggles. Steph groans.