Page 29 of Infatuation (The Josh & Kat Trilogy #1)

Twenty

Kat

Oh shit. Why did I just do that? What came over me?

I never get jealous, ever, unless I’m in a committed relationship—and even then it’s an extremely rare emotion for me to feel.

And here I was, ready to rip that bitch’s pretty little head off and cut off Josh’s balls and smash them between two graham crackers.

Am I just ugly drunk? That’s gotta be it.

Why do I care who Josh slept with last week? I did the exact same thing, didn’t I?

No, I didn’t. I didn’t sleep with the meanest little bitch in the whole, wide world and then obviously leave the door open for her afterwards to think there was even a snowball’s chance in hell for more of the same.

Jen looked awfully happy to see Josh—when she saw him, she certainly didn’t look like she thought she’d been rejected by him a few days before.

My head is reeling. I can only assume my brain has short-circuited from sexual frustration and seething jealousy.

And who could blame me after what I witnessed tonight?

Goddammit, Josh is literally the hottest man I’ve ever laid eyes on, by far.

Jesus Christ, I had no idea what he was hiding under his suit.

I practically climaxed at the sight of him standing in that damned hallway with that ridiculous dick of his.

Oh my God, I could see every detail of it, every ridge and bulge—the tip, the shaft, his balls, that little vein—all of it as plain as day under the wet fabric of his briefs.

Good lord, he’d gag me with that thing. Maybe even kill me.

But what a way to go. My clit is throbbing mercilessly just thinking about it.

If I had my vibrator right now, it’d take me less than a minute to give myself the biggest orgasm of my life.

The elevator arrives at the lobby floor and the doors open onto the hotel’s bustling casino. Wow, it’s closing in on dawn and this place is still jumping.

What the hell is happening to me right now?

I feel completely out of control. Like, literally insane.

I can’t even remember half of what I just said to Josh in that hallway.

Why the hell did I rip into him like that?

I honestly didn’t care when he told me about his New York screw earlier tonight—I really didn’t—but I suppose hearing about her and seeing her are two different things.

When he told me about fucking some faceless blast from his past, I didn’t have to stare at her perfect boobs and tiny waist and get hit with her snooty I’m-better-than-you-rich-bitch glare.

And I didn’t have to imagine Josh thrusting his enormous dick into her petite little body and ripping her in two or pressing his magnificent muscles and tattooed skin against her, making her scream his name.

A repulsive image suddenly flickers across my brain: Josh naked with a gigantic hard-on and Jen, not me, down on her knees, taking his enormous dick into her mouth. Oh my God, I’m gonna barf. That should be me, goddammit! I throw my hands over my face, stuffing back tears. That should be me.

Why am I reacting like this? Josh isn’t my boyfriend.

Whatever I’ve been starting to feel about him, I’d better back it the fuck up and cool my jets.

This guy’s not even remotely interested in having a committed relationship, not with me or anyone.

And, frankly, neither am I. I’m single and loving it. Hell yeah, I am. Loving it!

There’s a craps table a few feet away so I drift over to it like a drunk driver following headlights on the freeway, my bare feet shuffling along the dirty casino carpet as I walk. I peek over at the game just in time to see a handsome gray-haired man roll a seven and crap out.

My eyes are burning. There’s a lump in my throat.

I think I might have just embarrassed myself in that hallway.

I acted like a toddler.

Not to mention a terrorist, just like Josh said—a jealous, pissy, bitchy little terrorist. And a mean girl.

That’s right, I said it. I was every bit as mean to that bitch as she was to me in the first place.

Maybe even meaner. Right now she’s probably crying to her bestie— Isabel Effing Randolph, for crying out loud!

—about how she doesn’t understand what Josh could possibly see in a mean bitch like me .

And she’s right. But that bitch started it, goddammit! ‘ Charming, Josh ,’ she said, looking me up and down. Who could blame me for tearing into her? If Sarah were here she’d tell me what I did was justifiable bitchicide.

I just can’t understand what Josh ever saw in a girl like that.

Is he really that shallow? I’m not exactly an endless reservoir of deep thoughts, I’ll admit, but I’m not human plankton like that girl.

And, even more importantly, I’m nice. Or, okay, I’m not mean (not normally, anyway)—although, okay, yes, I have a bit of a bitchy streak, a wee bit of a temper—and it certainly came out tonight.

But I’m not flat-out mean (not usually).

Sarah always says I have a heart of gold, doesn’t she?

And Sarah’s a fantastic judge of character.

Seriously, if Josh is interested in a girl like Jen, even for one night, just because she has an incredible body—which, holy hell, she sure does, oh my effing God, that was quite a body on her—then he truly must be the diehard playboy I pegged him for right from the start.

And that thought makes me feel... What does it make me feel? I can’t identify it.

Rejected.

Yeah. That’s it. I feel rejected more than anything else—even more than jealous.

And that’s just plain stupid.

But I can’t help it.

All night long—or, actually, even before coming to Vegas—I’ve been feeling like Josh and I have some sort of special connection, something with potential to turn into something serious.

Something maybe even beautiful. And now I can’t help thinking that’s exactly what Jen thought she had with Josh, too.

Maybe Josh makes every girl feel like girlfriend-material, simply because he’s so damned gorgeous and charming?

Jen was clearly clueless about the way Josh really felt about her—am I equally clueless, too?

The shooter at the craps table rolls a nine, and everyone breathes a sigh of relief.

Goddammit, why don’t I have my purse or phone? Or at least my effing shoes? Classic Kat. I cross my arms in a huff and wobble in place with the effort.

Shit. I feel kinda bad for how hard I punched that mean girl in the teeth, even though she was a total bitch.

Did I really have to go quite that nuclear on her ass?

Couldn’t I maybe have just thrown a cherry bomb at her?

Or maybe even, like, a dart? I put some horrible words into Josh’s mouth—words that probably shattered her heart, if, indeed, she’s got one buried underneath those spectacular breasts.

Jeez. Maybe I don’t have a heart of gold, after all, no matter what Sarah says.

I wipe my eyes. They’re suddenly burning like crazy. I can’t seem to swallow that huge lump in my throat. Maybe I’m just a bitch through and through.

“Kat.”

I turn around. It’s Josh, holding my shoes and purse and looking incredibly relieved to see me.

Without even thinking about it, I throw my arms around his neck and squeeze—and he encircles me in his strong arms.

He kisses me on the cheek. And then the ear. And then the neck. I brush my lips against his jawline, aching for him to kiss me like I’ve never been kissed before.

But he doesn’t.

He pushes a large swath of wet hair off my cheek. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You went fucking psycho on me.”

I shake my head.

“Come on, Kat. Talking lets the feelings out.”

“I’m just drunk,” I say, squeezing him with all my might. “Ignore me—I’m not acting like myself. Just, please, forget this ever happened. I’m not mean, I swear.”

“Forget this ever happened? Highly unlikely,” he says. “A man doesn’t soon forget the sight of a bare ass like yours marching down a hallway.” He nuzzles his nose into mine but, again, he doesn’t kiss me, not that I can blame him.

I kiss his cheek. And then his ear.

He shudders at the touch of my lips.

“Josh,” I whisper, my heart aching. I want him so bad, it hurts.

After a moment, Josh pulls back from me and looks deep into my eyes, rubbing my cheeks with his thumbs. “I guess this settles it, huh?—you really do have a vagina.”

I smile. “That wasn’t clear to you when you stuck your fingers inside it on the dance floor?”

“Could have been smoke and mirrors—you never know.” He pushes more wet hair off my face. “You just kicked Jen’s ass so fucking hard. Oh my God. You absolutely decimated that girl.”

“I should have warned you—I’ve got a bit of a temper.”

“You did warn me. I just didn’t realize you meant you were a trained fucking assassin. Jesus .”

“I shouldn’t have done that to her. She’s a bitch, but she didn’t deserve that. It’s just that I was just so effing—”

“ Jealous ,” he says, finishing my sentence for me. “Just so effing jealous. ”

I exhale and nod. “Yeah.”

He holds my face in his hands. “Well, you’re in luck. Because I happen to be a sick fuck and I thoroughly enjoyed watching you go batshit crazy with jealousy over me.”

“You did?”

“Oh yeah,” he says. “It gave me a raging hard-on, you might have noticed.”

I grin. “Oh, you had a hard-on? Hmm. I didn’t notice.”

He laughs. “Or maybe I just had a raging hard-on from ogling your smokin’ hot body. Jesus, Kat. You’re fucking incredible.”

“You’re pretty incredible yourself,” I say.

There’s a long beat.

“You still sticking with your stupid jihad?” he asks. “Or are you ready to let me take you back to our hotel and make all your dreams come true?”

“ Jihad ,” I say, swallowing hard. Damn, it pains me to say that. I wish he could understand what I’m really saying to him. At this point, it’s not about his application anymore. I want him. And I won’t settle for getting anything less than of all of him now.

Josh looks genuinely disappointed. “It’s not fair, you know. You don’t have an application to give me in return.”

“If I did, I’d give it to you,” I say.

He mulls that over for a moment. “I thought you only get jealous with boyfriends.”

Something in the way he just said that makes my heart race. “It was the truth when I said it. I’m sorry. This has never happened to me before.”

He touches the cleft in my chin for a long moment and I close my eyes at his sensuous touch .

After a moment, he removes his finger and slowly licks the indentation in my chin with a languid flicker of his tongue.

My knees buckle and my clit zings. I stick out my tongue, yearning for his warm tongue to intertwine with mine, but he pulls back. I let out a shaky breath. Holy shitballs, that was sexy.

“You hungry?” he asks softly. “Suicide-bombing can really work up an appetite.”

I shift my weight. Blood is flooding into my crotch. “Yeah, I’m starving.”

He looks at his watch. “We’re supposed to meet up with our Ocean’s Eleven crew in just a few hours—no sense sleeping before then, right? Let’s go back to our hotel and grab some breakfast, maybe gamble a little—we can crash after we meet with everyone.”

“Yeah, sounds good. ‘Sleep when you’re dead,’ right?”

“‘Go big or go home,’” he says, smirking.

“YOLO.”

Josh touches the cleft in my chin again, his sapphire eyes sparkling at me. “That’s right, baby—you only live once. So don’t fuck it up.” He pauses, his eyes looking deeply into mine. “What am I gonna do with you, Kat?” he whispers. “Huh? You’re a goddamned runaway train.”

I shrug and wipe my eyes. “I know. I’m off the tracks.”

He exhales softly and slips his hand in mine. “Come on, Madame Terrorist. Let’s get you back to the hotel and get some food into you before you pass out—or, God forbid, injure some more innocent bystanders.”