2. Katelyn #2
I do my best to control my eye roll as I reply. “That’s a safe assumption.”
He asks, “Care to tell me who you’re hiding from?”
“I’m not dying to, no.”
His response is a direct stare with a slight tilt of his head.
I sigh. I shouldn’t have told him I was down here to hide. “Okay fine. If you must know, I was trying to leave. But my ex, and what I’m assuming is his new girlfriend, were chatting with some people right in front of the door. I did not feel up to dealing with that drama.”
His face darkens. “Want me to go kick his ass?”
Laughing, I say, “Desperately.”
Jackson turns towards the stairs, which only causes me to laugh harder. Lunging forward I grab his arm and choke out, “I was kidding!”
Jackson turns back to face me. “Well, if I can’t kick his ass for you, then we’ll just have to entertain ourselves down here for a while. Until we know the coast is clear. ”
“I really should head home,” I mildly protest.
“Pets waiting for you?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Did you drive yourself here?”
I shake my head again. “I took a Lyft.”
“Sounds like you don’t need to leave. And you’ll just bruise my ego if you try to ditch me now.” As he says this, he takes hold of my hand and starts to lead me toward the door that was closed when I got down here, but now sits partially open.
There is a blue glow coming from the room on the other side of the door.
“Umm . . .” My feet slow a bit. “Where are we going?”
Jackson looks down at me. “Let’s go get freaky in my sex room.”
Excuse me, what?!
Half a second later, Jackson breaks out into loud, manly laughter.
“Oh Kitten, the look on your face…” He starts laughing harder, to the point of bending over and putting his hands on his knees.
Damnit, he is way too hot to laugh like that. Surly hot men are one thing, but that same face broken into a wide smile… it should be illegal.
Narrowing my eyes at his hunched over form, I mumble to myself, “We’ve got Mr. Fuck Hot over here thinking he’s all hilarious, cracking jokes.” I don’t want to admit how much my pulse skyrocketed, in a good way, when Jackson said he was taking me to his sex room .
“Fuck Hot?” Jackson questions.
Crap, I must’ve mumbled too loud.
I give him a glare. “You done?”
Chuckling, he grabs my hand again and continues our path to the doorway. At this point I’m ninety-five percent sure that there’s not a sex room down here.
“Oh, wait.” He drops my hand and quickly strides back to the bookshelf. Grabbing the bowl of caramels, he says, “I almost forgot these.” Then he winks at me.
He fucking winks.
“Kitten, may I present to you . . . my movie dungeon.” With a bow he pushes the door open.
“Har. Har,” I fight a smile as I cross the threshold.
I try to act unimpressed, but I’ll admit - this room is pretty awesome.
Straight ahead is a giant screen mounted onto the wall.
Technology is not my area of expertise, so I won’t pretend to know anything other than it’s large and probably expensive.
There’s some sort of screen saver or hold screen that is casting the room in that blue glow.
Instead of having the fancy reclining movie chairs that I’ve seen in some home theaters, this room just has a couch. One gigantic U-shaped couch that looks like it could easily seat a dozen Jackson-sized men.
Football players? Basketball?
I feel like I should know what sport he plays but asking him now might be insulting. I’ll wait and Google him when I get home.
The couch is dark grey, and - once I get close enough to touch it - I can feel that it’s a soft, almost fuzzy fabric.
It might be okay for Jackson to sit on and still have his feet on the ground, but the sitting part is so deep that if I put my back against the rear cushions my feet will stick off the end like a little kid.
I cannot wait to get on this couch. This is the sort of furniture you’d volunteer to sleep on.
Without waiting for further invitation, I hurry around and plop myself in the middle of the couch. I pull my knees up and to the side to keep my dress from showing too much leg.
Jackson is smiling at my reaction as he makes his way over in a much slower and more controlled fashion.
He sits to the left of me, wedging his body into the corner.
Maybe it’s the extra corner cushions around him, or maybe it’s just because he’s sitting there looking divine, but his spot looks even more comfortable than mine.
“Were you watching something?” I ask, nodding towards the big screen.
“I was. Then I thought I heard a noise in my library and figured I should go corral the drunk partygoer back upstairs.”
“Hmm. How’d that work for you?”
“Jury’s still out. But now I have company to share a movie with, so I’m thinking it’s working out okay.”
“Decent answer.” My cheeks feel like they've been in a constant state of blushing. “So, Jackson, what’re we watching?”
“ The Godfather Part Two .”
“Cool.”
Jackson watches my reaction with suspicion. “Have you seen it?”
I shrug, “Nope.”
He narrows his eyes a little. “Have you seen the first one?”
I feel like I’m failing a test, but I answer truthfully. “Also, nope.”
“That settles it. We need to start at the beginning.”
“I mean I’ve heard of it,” I state, while he clicks his remote to pull up the new movie choice. “Is it a favorite of yours?”
“The original is definitely in my top-ten list. I watched it with Pops, my grandfather, when I was probably too young. Mama had a righteous fit when she found out, so it’s always stuck with me for sentimental reasons.”
He calls his mom mama. Melt.
I make a sound of agreement. “I can understand that. Is your pops still around?”
“Nah, he passed several years ago.”
“I’m sorry. Grandparents are the best. Of course mine never let me watch racy gunslinger movies. But I did get my fair share of cookies from my grandma.”
“Well, you’re in for a treat.” He looks at me for an extra beat. “I think my pops woulda liked you. ”
This guy. One little comment and just like that, all the bumblebees land in my stomach. Jackson saying his grandpa would like me shouldn’t feel like such a big thing. I just met him. Like less than ten minutes ago. But this thing, this energy, already feels like something. Like a start .
I know better than to catch feelings so quickly, but he’s so damn likable.
My internal buzz intensifies. People always talk about butterflies. But they’re fragile, and I’ve never run away from a butterfly. Now, a belly full of bumblebees? Bumblebees are cute, and necessary for life, but a whole pile of them can be more than a bit terrifying. Kinda like feelings.
“Are you single?” I blurt out.
Wow, Katelyn, way to be subtle.
“Yes?” he replies. Dragging the word out, turning it into a question.
“Just wondering if there'll be any territorial women breaking through that door looking for you,” I rationalize, gesturing to the now closed again door behind us.
“Not likely. I imagine at some point I’ll be hunted down by the party staff to let me know the guests are leaving. But you shouldn’t have to worry about pulling out your claws for that.”
“Cute.” I deadpan.
“And you? Any boyfriends gonna come sniffing you out?”
“Not even the slightest chance.” Looking back toward the screen, I pretend our mutual single status isn’t affecting me. “Are you ready, or do you want to hype it more before we start?”
With a chuckle, Jackson starts the movie. As the opening credits roll, I notice the bite to the air on my bare legs and arms. Looking around I spot a blanket draped over the back of the couch on the far side of Jackson.
“Um, can I borrow that?” I ask, pointing to the blanket.
“You cold? I can turn up the heat.”
“I’d prefer the blanket actually. I like chilly rooms, so long as I can cuddle up into a blanket or something to stay warm. ”
He hums, pulling the blanket toward him.
But instead of passing it over to me, he just lays it across his own lap.
“I agree with you.” Then he lifts the edge of the blanket closest to me in blatant invitation.
I give him side-eye in return. “Kitten, I’m not trying to pull a fast one on you.
But this is the best and softest blanket in the whole house.
Trust me when I say that it, combined with me, will keep you plenty warm.
” He holds my gaze for a beat, then adds.
“I promise to remain a perfect gentleman.”
The sad part is that I totally trust he’s telling the truth right now. I’m sure he will be a gentleman. I’m also sure that I really really don’t want him to be one. But keeping our movie viewing behavior PG is the smart choice here.
Without further comment, I rise off the couch and walk the half dozen steps over to where Jackson is sitting.
With him pressed all the way back into the corner I will either need to crawl, scoot, or walk across the three-foot-deep cushion to get myself properly situated into his side.
I may never see this man again, so I’m going to bring my cuddle game up to Olympic levels and savor every moment of it.
Standing there, I contemplate the best approach.
Scooting myself backward across the cushion toward him is a no go.
Trying to crawl, in a dress, without catching myself on the hem and faceplanting into the back of the couch.
.. hard pass. So, with my hands holding down the edges of the skirt I step up so I’m standing on the couch.
The look of surprise on Jackson’s face gives me a moment of smug victory as I take a step toward him, then spin around and drop into a seated position snug against his side.
He wastes no time draping the blanket across me and putting his arm around my shoulders.
Since I’ve already decided to go big or go home, I curl myself into his side and rest my head on his chest. Relaxing into him, I almost feel like I’m in high school again. Snuggling under a blanket in the dark. Almost… because none of the boys in high school were built like Jackson .
I take a deep breath to calm my poor heart, and am forced to stifle a groan.
How does a man smell this good, this late at night?
I’m not sure if it’s cologne, or if it’s just him .
If it is bottle-produced, I might need to buy some.
Then I can shamefully spray it on a pillow when I’m feeling lonely and want to come back to this moment.
Yikes. Just thinking that depresses me a little.
Okay, whatever, I’m going to live in the now.
I’m going to enjoy this feeling, watch the movie, and go home with a lovely memory of the evening that didn’t turn to shit after all.