Page 16 of Infatuation (The Josh & Kat Trilogy #1)

Jonas bursts out laughing from behind me and the hipster guy’s face turns beet red.

Oh my gosh, this hacker dude’s the most adorable human I’ve ever met.

I’m already in deep, irreversible like with him.

Without even thinking about it, I wrap him in a huge hug and kiss his cheek.

He looks like he could break into beat poetry at any given moment.

Adorbs! I want to take him home and put him in a rhinestone jacket and feed him treats.

“I’m so excited to meet you, Henn,” I say.

I kiss him on the cheek again and his face turns the color of a vine-ripened tomato.

“Kat, stop treating Henn like a Chihuahua,” Sarah says. “Henn, tell her to stop assaulting you.”

I laugh and release the poor guy. “Sorry, Henn,” I say. “I’m impulsive. I should have warned you. Sometimes, I just can’t control myself.” I glance at Josh on that last comment and his eyebrows drift up, every so slightly.

Henn nods and mumbles something adorably incoherent.

“Time for alcohol!!” Josh booms. “I always say, ‘If a guy doesn’t drink, he must be a total fucking tool.’ Or, at the very least, he’s just fucking boring .” He shoots me a smart-ass grin and strides to the bar. “Don’t you agree, Kat?”

I twist my mouth, trying desperately not to smile. “Not necessarily,” I say. “Sometimes, it just means a guy is disciplined. ”

Josh scoffs. He refills my champagne glass and then Sarah’s and grabs three beers from the fridge.

“Oh yeah,” he says, snapping his fingers like he’s just remembered something important.

He opens the first of the bottles and hands it to Jonas.

“I’ve also heard from several extremely reliable sources that guys who don’t drink also make limp-dick-shitty-ass lovers. ”

“Really?” Henn asks.

“Yup.”

“Well, jeez,” Henn says. “Hand me a beer, then. Pronto . And a couple shots.”

Josh hands Henn a beer, his eyes still trained on me, his expression clearly saying, “Don’t fuck with me, little girl—you’re out of your depths.”

I look away. Holy shitballs, Josh Faraday is sexy as hell.

The five of us move to the black leather couches in the sitting area and make ourselves comfortable—and I gotta say when Josh Faraday makes himself comfortable, it’s a sight to behold: he leans back, spreads his strong legs, and unapologetically adjusts his dick in his pants.

“I’m shocked you splurged on this place, bro,” Josh says, glancing around the room. “So un-Jonas-like of you. ”

“Would you stop telling me what’s Jonas- or un-Jonas-like of me already? Apparently, you have no idea what I’m like.”

Josh laughs. “Apparently not.”

I bite my lip. Sexy man. Sexy man. Sexy man. I can’t think straight.

Henn opens the browser on his computer and logs into some application-program-thing.

“Okay, folks. I’ve got an update on the Oksana sitch you had me working on.”

“Fantastic,” Jonas says, rubbing his hands together.

We all crowd around Henn’s laptop—and when I bend over to get a good look at Henn’s screen, Josh rests his hand on the small of my back.

Oh my God, his touch is drawing every ounce of blood from my brain into the three square inches of flesh under his palm.

Holy Hotness, Batman, I can barely process what Henn’s saying right now.

It seems to be something about someone named Oksana Belenko.

“Sounds like an Olympic ice skater, doesn’t she?” Henn says, but I’m barely listening. Josh’s hand has moved from the small of my back to the curve of my hip. Holy shitballs. Nuclear energy is wafting off Josh’s body just a few inches from mine.

“Boom shakalaka,” Henn says, showing us something on his screen.

“See? Fucking genius,” Josh says. His hand returns to the small of my back, where it begins making little swirling motions.

“You sure that’s our girl?” Sarah asks.

Henn explains why he’s sure he’s got the right Oksana.

“So that means we’ve got a confirmed physical address?” Sarah asks.

“Yep.”

“Wow,” Sarah says. She pauses, the gears apparently turning inside her head. “So it sounds like Oksana supplies the girls for The Club—” She looks at Josh. “Or, if you’d prefer, the Mickey Mouse roller coasters.”

Sarah and I simultaneously burst out laughing and Josh straightens up, abruptly removing his swirling hand from my back.

“It was an analogy ,” he says, looking genuinely annoyed.

“We know, Joshie, we know,” Sarah says, winking at him. “But it’s still funny.” She looks at me and makes a ridiculously cute cartoon-face and I burst out laughing again. God, I love Sarah. Relief floods me yet again to have her safe and sound.

“Yeah, Oksana’s like this frickin’ old-school madam, ” Henn says. “Probably not the brains behind all the tech stuff.”

“She’s probably got a business partner who handles the tech side of things,” Jonas says.

“Definitely,” Henn agrees. “And whoever that person is, he or she knows exactly what the hell they’re doing.

Because there’s no finding these guys by accident.

And even then,” Henn continues, sipping his beer, “their storefront is just a shell. Their real shit’s gotta be buried way down in the Deep Web. And that’s a scary place.”

“What’s the Deep Web?” I ask.

Henn grins broadly at me.

“Is that a stupid question?” I ask, blushing.

“Oh no, not stupid at all. I’m just so used to hanging out with computer geeks all day long, I forget normal people don’t know about this stuff.” He smiles at me again. “I’m glad you don’t know what it is. It means you’re probably a well-adjusted, happy person.”

I laugh. “I am, as a matter of fact.”

“I can tell,” Henn says. “Happiness is a very attractive quality in a person.”

“Thank you,” I say. My eyes flicker to Josh and I’m shocked to see he’s already staring at me—looking at me like he wants to fuck my brains out, actually. My skin sizzles and pops, yet again.

Josh clears his throat. “So, guys, before Henn launches into The Grand Story of the Deep Web, how about we all do a shot of Patron? We’re in Vegas, after all—when in Rome.”

“Sounds like a fabulous idea to me,” I say. “Do we have Patron in the bar?”

“Of course,” Jonas says. “I made sure of it. My brother is nothing if not predictable.”

Josh strides purposefully behind the bar, grace in motion, flashing me a come-hither stare as he goes.

I feel like he’s pulling me on a string. “I’ll help you out, Playboy,” I blurt, bounding over to the bar.

“Why, thanks, Party Girl,” Josh says.

I stand next to him in the bar and lean into him, involuntarily drawn to his sheer physicality. He leans his muscled body into mine and whispers softly in my ear. “You ready to cut the middle bullshit yet, Party Girl—see how this story ends?”

“That depends. Are you ready to give me your application?”

He laughs. “I told you—I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

“Well, then. I guess not.”