Page 31 of Infatuation (The Josh & Kat Trilogy #1)
Twenty-Two
Kat
I slowly open my eyes. I don’t feel great, but it definitely could have been a lot worse.
When Josh brought me to my room after I barfed all over him, he helped me shower—in my bra and undies, I noticed—ordered me chicken noodle soup from room service, and made me drink a bunch of Gatorade and take four Ibuprofen before finally tucking me into bed.
I have to admit, I kinda swooned at how attentive and sweet he was, even through my queasiness.
I look at the clock. Three o’clock. Wow, I slept a full seven hours.
I grab my phone and look at my emails. Damn.
I’ve got two messages from my boss, attaching documents that require my attention.
Obviously, I’m gonna have to head back to Seattle soon or risk losing my job.
My work is piling up and I’ve already used up all my vacation days this year.
Hmm. Maybe there’s a way for me to finagle this.
I forward my boss’s email to my co-worker Hannah, asking her if maybe she’s willing to help a sistah out?
Hannah’s email reply is immediate. “Of course, baby. I got you. Any time.”
“Thanks, baby. You know I’ll return the favor.”
“You’ve helped me with a thousand pitches, girl. And I still owe you big time for helping me with the politician who sent the dick pic to the teenager.”
“You don’t owe me a damned thing,” I write. “And if you do, then helping me with this pitch puts you way ahead, for sure.”
“Where are you? Still in Vegas?” Hannah writes.
“Yeah. And currently hung over. Partied all night. You won’t believe who I partied with. ”
“Who?”
“RED CARD RIOT!”
“WTF!!!!!! Are you serious?”
“Serious. LMFAO,” I write.
“Cray,” Hannah writes.
“Probs going to their concert tonight, too. And watching from backstage!!!!!”
“No way! Double cray. Are they hot?”
“Totes. But really young. Just wee little baybays.”
“Oooooh, you could do the Mrs. Robinson thing. That’d be hot.”
“That’s not one of my fantasies, actually. But, trust me, I’ve got plenty of others.”
“Oh, I know you do. LOL,” Hannah writes.
“Thanks again, girl. You’re a great friend.”
“Takes one to know one. Speaking of which, say hi to Sarah. How’s she feeling?”
“She’s great. Breaking news: she’s in luuuuuurve.”
“Awesome! With that guy she went to Belize with?”
“Yup. And he’s in luuuuuuuurve with her, too.”
“Aw.” Hanna attaches a heart emoji. “I’m jelly.” She attaches a green-faced emoji.
“Me, too.” I exhale wistfully. “Okay, gotta go,” I write. “Just woke up. Gotta get some food in this sad-sack body.”
“By all means. Partying requires fuel. Have fun.”
“Thanks again for the assist.”
“No worries. Have an extra drink for me. Or two or three.”
“Thanks, Hannah Banana Montana Milliken.”
“LOL. Any time, Kitty Kat.”
“Meow.”
“Mwah.”
Phew. Catastrophe averted. At least for now.
I have no doubt Hannah will style me—the woman’s damn good at PR—and that ought to buy me at least a little time.
But, clearly, I can’t stay out here in Las Vegas forever.
Sooner or later, the jig’s gonna be up. I just wish I knew how long Operation Ocean’s Eleven was going to last (and what my part in it might be).
I scour the rest of my emails. Nothing important. I move on to my texts .
There’s a text from Sarah. “Hey, Kitty Kat. What happened with you and Josh last night? Did you have fun? Winky winky boom boom? Jonas and I are heading out to Henderson to meet Oksana the Pimpstress right now. Kerzoinks! I just pissed my pants a little bit writing that. Okay, well, just wanted to check in and say hi and get all the juicy deets about last night. You’re probably sleeping, knowing you.
Hope you didn’t barf, girl. But if you did, I hope you didn’t barf on Josh.
But if you did, I hope Josh held your hair for you, since I wasn’t there to do it like usual.
See you later when we get back. IF WE GET BACK.
” She attaches a scared-face emoji. “If I don’t come back, just know I loved you with all my heart and soul.
Oh, and, just in case, I hereby bequeath you my One Direction albums.”
I tap out my reply. “Hey, girl. Just woke up. Yes, I barfed. Yes, Josh held my hair. He showered me and Gatoraded me, too, and then put me to bed.” I attach a blushing emoji.
“Don’t say ‘IF we get back.’ NOT FUNNY. I love you, too, with all my heart and soul, and then some.
It’s probably too late for you to get this now, but be super-duper careful with the pimpstress.
Don’t leave Jonas’ side. See you when you get back.
Can’t wait to hear all about it.” I attach an ear emoji.
“And I don’t want your stinkin’ 1D albums, you tweener.
If I did, though, does this mean you’re ‘bequeathing me’ (WTF?
?) your entire laptop? Sorry to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I’m not sure I know how to extract the digital files off your laptop. Heehee. Love you, girl. Meow. Xoxo.”
My next text is from Josh from an hour ago. “You up yet, PG?”
I type a reply. “Hi, PB. Just woke up.”
His reply is instantaneous. “You feeling like death warmed over?”
“No, I feel pretty fab. Can you talk?”
My phone rings. “Hey,” his smooth voice says. I hear slot machines ringing and people cheering in the background.
“Thanks for putting me to bed and taking such good care of me. Sorry I barfed on your fancy shoes.”
“I hated those shoes anyway. Total douchebag-shoes.”
“I was thinking of getting something to eat before Jonas and Sarah get back from meeting the Pimpstress Extraordinaire. Do you know if they’re back yet?”
“Not yet. I saw them before they left. They were both wearing matching platinum bracelets engraved with each other’s names. ”
“What? Oh my God.”
“You should have seen them, Kat. Seriously, they can’t get enough of each other. They’re pretty cute.”
My heart flips over in my chest. “Wow. Good for them.”
There’s a long beat.
Josh clears his throat. “So did you get any sleep?”
“A ton. How about you?”
“A couple hours at most. Henn and I are down in the casino playing craps, waiting for Jonas and Sarah to come back.”
“Okay, I’ll get dressed and come on down.”
“No. I don’t want you walking around alone. Text me when you’re ready to come down here.”
“Will do.”
I jump in the shower and wash my hair and lather my body from head to toe.
And when I’m done with the functional aspects of my shower, I grab the showerhead and stick it between my legs, positioning the strong stream of water right on my clit.
My body’s reaction to the vibrating water is extreme and instantaneous. Whoa, oh yeah, I’m ready to go.
I close my eyes and begin touching myself, trying to duplicate the precise way Josh touched me when we “danced” at Reed’s club. God, that was hot. So fucking hot.
Oh, I’m already pulsing like crazy.
My fingers massage and rub, working round and round.
I imagine the ridges and ripples of Josh’s abs, the incredible muscles on his arms, that tight “V” on either side of his lower pelvis, his tattoos, and, the crowning glory, that incredible hard-on I saw hiding beneath his wet briefs.
Oh, I’m especially sensitive to touch right now. Getting myself off today is gonna be as easy as falling off a greasy log.
I begin moaning softly.
Oh, I’m right on the cusp.
I imagine the outline of Josh’s hard dick in his wet briefs, and then I fantasize about it sliding inside me, thrusting in and out of me, over and over.
His lips are on mine, devouring me. His hands are touching my naked body. He’s whispering in my ear, calling me his Party Girl with a Hyphen .
Oh yeah. My skin is beginning to prickle like I’ve got a chill, always a deliciously disorienting sensation under hot steaming water.
I imagine the cocky expression on Josh’s face when he accused me of dripping down my thigh with desire for him— which I was . Oh, God, yes, I was.
I’m rocked with a massive orgasm that makes my insides twist and shudder.
“Fuck,” I blurt. “Oh my God.”
Pleasure is vibrating between my legs and throughout my abdomen.
Oh boy. That was a nice one.
I return the showerhead to its holder and lean into the shower wall for a moment.
I’ve never wanted a man this much in all my life.
Damn.
What have I done? How the hell am I gonna get myself out of this pickle I’ve created?
Never in a million years did I think it would take this long to wear Josh down.
I figured he’d throw me some nominal, flirtatious resistance and then give me what I want, the way all other men do, to be perfectly honest. Goddammit .
I feel like stomping my foot in frustration.
I get out of the shower and dry off with one of the thick, white towels on the nearby shelf and quickly check my texts again—I stayed in the shower longer than I intended to—and, oopsies, there’s a group text from Jonas, telling Henn, Josh and me to meet him and Sarah up in his suite in ten minutes. Oh, crap. I better get a move on.
I quickly dial Josh. He picks right up.
“Did you see Jonas’ text?” I ask.
“Yeah, I just got it a minute ago. Henn and I are on our way to your room to get you. We don’t want you walking up to their suite alone. See you in five.”