Page 26 of Infatuation (The Josh & Kat Trilogy #1)

Eighteen

Kat

After downing two Kisses from Josh Faraday, I’ve suddenly got a freaking fantabulous idea. “Let’s go for a swim, Joshie Woshie.”

“Yessssssssssssss, Kitty Kat,” he says. Without hesitation, he rips off his jacket and begins unzipping his pants while I frenetically pull my mini-dress over my head and kick off my shoes.

I throw my dress over the back of a lounge chair, adrenaline coursing through my veins (along with the booze), and stand with my hands on my hips like Wonder Woman in front of Josh, wearing nothing but a G-string, belly ring, black-lace push-up bra, and a smile.

“Hey, Playboy,” I coo. I wink and pucker my lips at him.

He stops what he’s doing and freezes, his eyes fixed on me. “Whoa.”

I shake my ass, honk my boobs like they’re horns on the handlebars of a little girl’s bike, and cannonball into the pool with a humongous splash.

When my face breaks the surface of the water, I’m treated to the hilarious vision of Josh furiously kicking off his shoes and peeling off his pants like they’re on fire.

“Come on, Playboy,” I catcall to him. “That’s as fast as you can move, you pansy-ass?”

There’s a huge splashing noise to my right.

And then another. And another. Sounds like I’ve started a trend.

I glance toward the splashing—it’s two guys and a girl I recognize from a sitcom—and then my eyes drift back to Josh.

He’s just now in the process of removing his button-down shirt.

.. to reveal... holy motherfucking shit on a fucking stick.

Wow. Holy Washboard Abs, Batman. Holy Pecs.

Holy Biceps. Holy Hot Damn. Josh Faraday is unexpectedly a freaking god among men .

Good lord. I knew I felt hard muscles underneath his designer suit when we were dirty dancing.

And I knew the dude regularly climbs rocks and mountains with his brother.

But I never could have predicted... this —this walking temple of masculine perfection.

For the love of all things holy, Cameron Fucking Schulz is a professional athlete and his body doesn’t hold a freaking candle to Josh’s.

Josh is a living sculpture. Ripped and perfectly proportioned.

Lean in all the right places and buffed out where it counts. Holy hell.

And speaking of buffed out where it counts, Jesus Christ, those little white briefs can’t hide the extremely large package he’s got between his legs. Holy hell, I’m swooning.

And on top of all that, oh my God, as if all that goodness weren’t enough to hurtle a woman into instant orgasm, the man is absolutely riddled with the sexiest tattoos I’ve ever seen, too.

How the hell did I not know he was covered in ink until now?

His chest is emblazoned boldly with the swirling word “GRACE” and the word “OVERCOME” is inked across his lower abs, right above the waistband of his tighty-whities.

When he pivots to throw his shirt onto a nearby chair, a tattoo I can’t make out flashes quickly on his left side—I think I saw a tree?

And when he turns the other way, oh my God, to top it all off, there’s a fire-breathing dragon covering his right bicep.

A dragon?

Oh, jeez.

I’m pretty sure I told Josh dragons are top of the list of “social suicide” tattoos, along with YOLO and barbed wire and girlfriend tattoos. Why the hell did I say all that? I was just talking out my butt—babbling off the top of my head. Sometimes I’m too snarky for my own good.

Well, damn, just one look at him and it’s obvious my made-up rules were meant to be broken.

This boy could sport a YOLO tattoo framed by barbed wire wrapped around a fire-breathing dragon’s neck and stamped with an ex-girlfriend’s name and he’d make it all look sexy as hell.

Hot daaaaaaaa-yam, this is a sexy man. My skin’s bursting into scorching flames just looking at him, even though I’m standing in cool water up to my chest.

Josh grins at me from the ledge of the pool, obviously enjoying the expression on my face. “Why are you looking at me like that, Kat?” He pats his rock-hard abs and snaps the waist of his briefs playfully, just below his “OVERCOME” tattoo. “Haven’t you ever seen a guy in his undies before?”

There’s a rippling commotion just behind him and a loud squeal, but I’m too fixated on Josh’s exquisite body to take my eyes off him.

Fuck the bet. Fuck the application. I’m gonna have drunken sex with this gorgeous man right now and come like a freight train.

Right fucking now. In the bathroom. Or in one of the back bedrooms of the suite.

Or, hell, right here in this goddamned swimming pool, if need be.

Hell yeah. That’s the plan. We’ll just pretend we’re hugging and cuddling in the water and all these drunk, high people around us will never effing know I’m having the orgasm of my life.

“Josh Faraday, you better get your gorgeous ass—” I begin, but I stop.

Holy shitballs.

Isabel Randolph just waltzed right up to the edge of the pool! Oh my God. She’s even more beautiful in person than on the big screen. I feel faint. How is this my life right now?

“Reed!” Isabel says, waving happily toward the swimming pool, her eyes focused immediately to my right.

I glance to my side and Reed’s standing just a few feet away from me in the pool, holding a drink. When did he get into the pool? And, hey, he looks mighty fine, I must say.

“Hey, Isabel, you came,” Reed replies, smiling broadly. “Awesome to see you.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it. Hey, Josh,” Isabel says, turning her attention to Josh a couple feet away from her on the ledge of the pool. She kisses him on both cheeks and then unabashedly looks him up and down. “Wow. You’re looking awfully... fit .”

Josh opens his mouth to reply, but before he can say a damned word, his face pales like he’s seen a freaking ghost.

“Josh Faraday,” a blonde woman says, emerging from the milling crowd and sauntering toward him and Isabel.

“I had no idea you’d be here.” She squeals.

“I don’t see you for seven long years, and now, out of nowhere, I get to see you twice in two weeks— and both times without a stitch of clothes on ?

” She giggles gleefully. “I guess there’s a God, after all. ”