Page 20 of Infatuation (The Josh & Kat Trilogy #1)

Thirteen

Josh

Oh fuck. She’s the devil.

My dick is doing fucking jumping jacks in my pants.

I can’t breathe.

What the fuck is wrong with this woman? Is she insane?

Her dress is barely longer than a fucking T-shirt.

Is she trying to give the entire world an unimpeded peek at her pussy?

All of a sudden, I can’t remove my eyes from her crotch or stop imagining what’s hiding just beyond the sequined hem of her itty-bitty dress.

She re-crosses her toned, bare thighs and flips her blonde hair, and I tear my eyes away from her lap.

“Do you always go commando?” I ask. But then I roll my eyes at myself. That’s my lame response? Who the fuck am I right now— Jonas ?

“No,” she says, laughing. “I typically wear underpants. A teeny-tiny G-string, to be exact.” She blows me a kiss and winks.

Oh, she’s a fucking sadist.

“That’s what I was wearing tonight, actually—a teeny, tiny, black lace G-string—mmmm—but I took it off in the bathroom right before we sat down at the bar.

” She opens her beaded clutch purse and pulls out a tiny black swatch of lace.

“Looks like you’re not the only one who likes a little excitement, Playboy . ” She winks again.

Holy fuck. My pulse is suddenly pounding in my ears. I lean forward, right into her gorgeous face.

“Goddammit, Kat. That’s it.” I pull out my credit card and throw it onto the bar. “This bullshit competition is over. Get up. I’m taking you upstairs right now.”

She laughs and doesn’t move a muscle. “Great. Can’t wait to read your application before we get started. ”

“Kat. No .”

“I’ve told you my terms, Playboy—and I’m prepared to do anything I have to do to get what I want.” She whirls her undies around on her finger. “ Anything at all .”

I exhale, exasperated. “Dude, you’re a freaking suicide bomber, you know that? You want me as much as I want you—but you’re willing to blow yourself to smithereens in order to win .”

She re-crosses her legs, yet again. “Gosh, is it breezy in here? Wow. It feels kinda breezy in here.” She mock-shivers and lets out a sexy growl. “God, I wish I had an application to a sex club to keep me warm right now. Brr.”

“You’re evil,” I say, my voice low and intense. “Pure fucking evil. You’re a fucking jihadist .”

She smiles broadly. “Oh, I like that word. I am .” She laughs. “Oh, God. I really am.”

My cock is throbbing. “Half the fun of being with someone new is not knowing what you’re getting yourself into in advance.

Maybe you wake up chained to a donkey; maybe you don’t.

It’s like opening a present on Christmas.

You don’t get to ask, ‘What’s in the box?

’ before you rip into it—you just rip into it, baby. ”

She shrugs and re-crosses her legs, yet again. “Interesting theory. Let’s agree to disagree.”

“I feel like you’re licking my balls and punching them at the same time,” I say.

She bursts out laughing. “Oh my God. You’re hilarious.”

“And you’re demonic.”

“I am. I really am.”

“Obviously.”

She shrugs. “Sorry. I can’t help it. It’s the way I am. I have four brothers. You show weakness with four brothers, you’re dead.”

“You have four brothers?”

She nods. “You’d be shocked what I’ve had to do to survive and thrive in a house with four guys.

Holding off on kissing you ’til I get my way, even though all I wanna do right now is kiss the hell out of you—including sucking on that delectable lower lip of yours, by the way, mmm, that’s a sexy lower lip—is freaking child’s play.

So give up now because I will get what I want. Just ask my brothers. I always win . ”

I’m rendered speechless for a moment. “Well, joke’s on you because I also grew up with four brothers,” I finally manage to say.

“All of them contained in the sole person of Jonas Faraday. You’d be shocked what I’ve had to do to survive and thrive in a house with a brother with four personalities.

Holding off on kissing you ’til I get my way, even though all I wanna do right now is kiss the hell out of you—including biting that goddamned lower lip of yours and doing unmentionable things to that goddamned cleft in your chin—is freaking child’s play. ”

She parts her lips but doesn’t speak.

“Do I give off a Jeffrey Dahmer vibe or something?” I ask, leaning forward into her personal space.

“Not at all.” She leans back and sips her drink. “Maybe that’s why I’m so damned curious. Your seeming normalcy makes me wonder even more why a guy like you felt the need to join a sex club.”

“I didn’t need to join a sex club—any more than I need to go to Tahiti or Monaco.”

“Or Disneyland,” she adds, snickering.

I roll my eyes. “Or Disneyland. Correct. Joining The Club was a vacation. ” I sip my drink calmly.

“Which means it’s soundly in the realm of ‘none of your fucking business.’ I don’t owe you a play-by-play of my vacations.

And, news flash, I’m not gonna let you run my credit report or call my ex-girlfriends, either. ”

She takes another long sip of her drink. “Oh, that’s a great idea about calling your ex-girlfriends, Playboy. I didn’t think of that. You can email me their contact information along with your application.”

I smirk. “You do realize, in theory, you could wake up gagged and chained to a donkey after fucking any guy, right? The fact that I joined The Club doesn’t make me any more or less of a pervert-weirdo-serial-killer-donkey-fucker than the average guy.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I’ll know for sure after I read your application. And by the way, I didn’t say anything about waking up gagged. You just added that part.” She raises one of her eyebrows at me.

I feel my cheeks blazing, despite my best efforts to keep a neutral face.

“Sarah sure enjoyed reading Jonas’ application,” she says. “Maybe I’ll like yours as much as she liked his. ”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about. Jonas and Sarah.”

She shrugs, but her body language tells me I’ve hit the nail on the head.

“But Jonas didn’t willingly give Sarah his application, you might recall—he sent it to an anonymous intake agent.

If Jonas had met Sarah in real life the way I’ve met you, he never would have given her his fucking application, not in a million years, I guarantee it.

Sarah only had it because Jonas had no choice in the matter—and she misappropriated it for her personal use.

” I sip my drink slowly. “Shame on her.”

“But that’s my whole point. Jonas wouldn’t normally have given it to her—and yet that’s exactly why they clicked so hard and fast. All cards on the table. Nothing to hide. No way to hold back, even if they wanted to. I think there’s something to that kind of forced honesty.”

Oh, she’s good, but I’m not gonna fall for her manipulations. “Sure you wanna try it—it’s a one-way street. No downside for you.”

We sip our drinks again, eying each other.

“Yeah, but most likely a huge upside for you,” she says. “Think about it like that.”

She makes an excellent point, I must admit. But I’d never tell her that. “Did Sarah show you Jonas’ application, by any chance?” I ask.

“No. She wouldn’t even summarize it verbally for me. And she wouldn’t tell me what she wrote to him in response, either.”

“Yeah, neither would Jonas. Not a word.”

“Damn. I’m dying to know.”

“Me, too.”

“Well, whatever they said to each other, it sure seems to have worked out well for them.” She looks earnest. “It seems like maybe they’re on to something with all that... forced honesty.”

Well, shit. If I knew she was right—if I knew participating in some sort of bizarre honesty-game would turn out to be some sort of unparalleled aphrodisiac, I’d be all in.

I really would. But I don’t know if she’s right.

For all I know, my application could easily have the opposite effect than she’s anticipating.

It could make her run away, screaming. And, regardless, at this point, I’m probably doomed no matter what it might say.

She’s pinning so much expectation on the damned thing, it can’t possibly live up to whatever kinkfest she’s imagining it to be.

No matter what it says, it’s gonna be anticlimactic now .

And, more importantly, is it gonna open up an entire dialogue I have no intention of having?

What I wrote in my application is a fucking time capsule—a moment in time I have no desire to revisit or fucking explain.

My stomach twists. Yeah, it’s settled. No matter what, I’m not gonna give this goddamned terrorist my fucking application.

“Do you usually practice ‘complete honesty’ with guys before you’ll even kiss them?” I ask.

“No. I can’t remember ever practicing ‘complete honesty’ with a guy, period,” she replies. “Have you ever practiced complete honesty with a woman?”

“Complete?”

“Yeah.”

“No. I came very close once. It didn’t work out very well.”

She twists her mouth.

“But enough about that.” I drain my drink. “I don’t negotiate with terrorists, like I said. So make your unreasonable demands all night long if you want—you’re not getting what you want.”

She exhales. “I tell you what. Just tell me what your stupid application says—and we’ll call it a day. Tell me and then kiss me and then... who knows what might happen next?” She looks at me suggestively.

“Nope.”

Her pucker turns to a pout.

“I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

“So you keep saying.”

“You don’t even care about my stupid application. You’re just trying to win. ”

“I could say the same thing about you. At least I’m being reasonable.”

“You’re being reasonable?”

“Yes. I backed down from my original demand and said you could just tell me what’s in it. And I’ve offered to answer any questions honestly tonight. But you? You’re just sticking to your guns, not budging an inch.”

“All right. Show me how it’s done.” I lean forward, my eyes blazing. “Play the honesty-game.”

“Fine. Ask me anything. ”

“Admit Cameron Fucking Schulz bored you to fucking tears.”

She twists her mouth—and then she nods.

I laugh. “ I knew it .”

“I went back into the restaurant after we talked and after two minutes with the guy I wanted to gouge my eyes out.”

“Hey, maybe I like this honesty-game, after all.” I chuckle. “So how’d he take it when you turned him down?” I ask, picking up my drink gleefully.

I’m expecting her to laugh with me or at least break into a wide smile. But she doesn’t. Instead, she furrows her brow, takes a long sip of her drink, and levels me with an unflinching gaze. “I didn’t turn him down.”