The Infatuation (Josh and Kat #1 , The Club #5) (20 page)

“What the
fuck
are you talking about? It’s
douche-y that I had sex with Jen?”

“No. That you had sex with a girl who obviously
wants a relationship and then left her hanging.
That’s
douche-y.”

“Oh, and I assume you sat Cameron Schulz down right
after you fucked him and told him he has zero chance with you?”

“Well, not then and there, no. I’m not
that
heartless. But, yeah, I told him later when he called, very
clearly, that I wasn’t feeling it
.
But maybe, now that I
think about it, that was a mistake on my part. Maybe I should have
said yes when he asked to see me again because a) he’s not a
douche, and b) I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this but
he’s the
shortstop for the goddamned Mariners
!”

I roll my eyes. “Gimme a fucking break. You’d rather
scratch your eyes out than go out with that tool again—unless, of
course, you suddenly have a huge craving for Shirley Temples.”

“Maybe I do,” she seethes. “Maybe that’s exactly
what I want right now, come to think about it—a nice, sweet guy who
actually
respects
women and doesn’t fuck any mean bitch who
happens to have a great rack—and, did I mention?—who happens to be
the shortstop for the goddamned fucking Mariners!”

“I respect women,” I say lamely.

“Maybe this is exactly the wake-up call I needed,”
she huffs. She waves her arms at me in a bizarre little frenzy like
she’s a magician on meth trying to make me disappear, and then she
turns back around and begins stomping away from me again.

“
Goddammit, Kat
,” I say. “Stop.”

She stops and whirls around, glaring at me.

“What are we fighting about?” I ask earnestly. “I’m
totally confused.”

She doesn’t reply. She whirls away from me,
again,
and saunters away, once again mesmerizing me with the
stomping motion of her incredible ass.

“Kat,” I bellow. “You’re a fucking train wreck.
Chill the fuck out and listen to me.”

She turns back around to face me and crosses her
arms over her spectacular chest. “
What
?”

I know we’re supposedly in the middle of a heated
conversation right now—maybe even a fight—about
what
I’m not
entirely sure because I can’t figure out exactly what I’ve done
wrong and why she’s reacting this way—but the truth is I can’t stop
looking at her insane body. It’s as gorgeous as her face. She’s
perfection from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet.
Jesus. She’s not an eleven like I previously thought—she’s a
fucking
twenty
—
way
hotter than Bridgette, and
Bridgette’s a fucking supermodel, for fuck’s sake.

“
What
?” Kat repeats, tapping her toe.

I swallow hard. “You were gonna fuck me in the
pool?”

“What?” She scoffs. “
No
. You wish.”

“You told Jen we were just about to fuck in the
pool.”

She rolls her eyes. “I just
said
that to piss
off your nasty little bitch of a fuck buddy. I’d never be just
another ride on your freaking ‘Mickey Mouse roller coaster.’ Hell
no. I’m officially done with that. Starting now.” Those perfect
tits of hers are rising and falling sharply with her rage. Fuck,
she’s turning me on so much, I can’t think straight.

“What the fuck are you so pissed about?” I ask. “I
told you I fucked Jen in New York and you didn’t give a shit. I
didn’t know she was gonna be here tonight—I wasn’t the one who
invited her. So what the fuck’s made you so goddamned mad?”

She presses her lips together, her cheeks rising
with color.

I chuckle. “Oh man.” I smile broadly, realization
descending upon me. “You’re so
jealous,
you can’t see
straight,” I say. “Miss
I’d-Only-Be-Jealous-If-You-Were-My-Boyfriend is so fucking jealous,
she’s about to explode.” I take a cautious step toward her and she
takes a step back like a skittish pony. “Aw, come on, Party Girl.
Tell the truth. You’re jealous as shit.” I smirk. “Come on, babe.
We’re telling the truth tonight, remember—we’re playing the
honesty-game?”

“Well, one of us is, anyway,” she says, taking
another step back. “And one of us is full of shit
.
I’ll
leave it to you to decide which of us is which.”

I laugh. “You’re insane right now. Certifiably
insane.” I bite my lip. “But I guess that’s what jealousy will do
to a woman, huh?”

She scowls.

“You were totally gonna fuck me in the pool just
now, and you know it.”

She shakes her head, but her eyes tell me I’m
right.

“You wanna talk about who’s full of shit? You don’t
give a shit about my stupid application—that’s all an act. All you
care about is feeling my hard cock deep inside you—nice and deep,
making you come like I did in the club, only even harder.” I take
another slow step toward her, and to my surprise, she doesn’t back
up this time. Oh shit, her nipples are hard little pebbles behind
her skimpy lace bra. “Aw, poor little Party Girl,” I coo at her.
“You wanna fuck me so bad, just thinking about my hard cock inside
you is making you drip down your thigh
.
” I point.

She jerks her head down to look between her thighs.
“
No
. That’s just water from the pool, you sicko.”

I laugh. “Oh no, it’s not. It’s your juices. You’re
dripping wet for me, aching for me so bad it hurts.”

“Screw you,” she mutters. She wheels around and
marches emphatically down the hallway toward the private elevator,
throwing her sequined dress over her head as she goes. She gets
tangled in her dress briefly while it’s over her head and walks
smack into the wall with a loud thud.

I grimace for her. “Ouch. You okay, babe?”

She bounces off the wall and wobbles for a moment in
place and then yanks her dress firmly over her head and onto her
tight little frame. “I’m
fine
,” she says emphatically. She
pulls her wet hair out from the back of her dress and smooths her
dress over her hips, her face the picture of pure defiance.

I laugh. She’s so fucking cute right now, she’s
killing me.

“It’s not funny,” she huffs.

“I’m going back into Reed’s suite to get my clothes
and your shoes and purse and then we’re going back to our hotel and
we’re gonna fuck.”

Her lips part with surprise.

“No more terrorist bullshit,” I say firmly. “No more
demanding my fucking application. I’m gonna fuck you and make you
come so hard, you’re gonna cry. If you think you’re dripping down
your thigh now, just wait ’til I get through with you.” I begin to
turn cautiously away from her, not sure if my skittish pony is
gonna stay or run, and she bangs the call button for the elevator,
flashing me blazing eyes.

“Don’t do it, Kat,” I say. “
Wait here
.”

“You’re not my boyfriend—and I’m obviously not your
girlfriend any more than
Jen
is. And, yes, I
do
demand your application before you can do a goddamned thing to
me—even
kiss
me. So there.” She sticks out her tongue.

“Real mature,” I say, my heart suddenly pounding.
Shit. She can’t really be serious about going down to the casino
floor without me, can she? “I mean it, Kat. Stay here. I can’t go
down there like this.” I motion to my wet briefs.

“Hmmph.”

The doors to the private elevator open and she
glares at me, her eyes on fire.

“Kat. I can’t go down into the casino wearing
nothing but wet underwear and a hard dick. Don’t go.”

She sticks her tongue out again.

I roll my eyes. “Kat, I promised Jonas I wouldn’t
leave your side tonight. Please stop acting like a fucking
toddler.”

She steps inside the elevator, smirking. “Sucks to
be you. Hopefully, your crazy-ass brother won’t beat your ass too
hard for breaking your promise to him.” She waves. “
Ciao,
motherfucker
.”

“Kat.
Stop
. Don’t you dare fucking leave me
right now.”

Her pout turns into a diabolical smile. “‘Don’t you
dare’? Ha! Just a tip,
Jess
,” she says. “Never use that
threat with me—it’ll backfire every freaking time.” The doors begin
closing. “I
hate
that, Jess. I really do.” She waves as the
doors close on her smug face and, just like that, she’s gone.

“Goddammit, Stubborn Kat!” I scream out loud in the
empty hallway. I make a long, exasperated sound like a pot about to
boil, and then I turn and sprint back into Reed’s suite (which
isn’t a pleasant thing to do with a raging hard-on, I gotta say),
muttering words like “terrorist” and “fucking” and “crazy” and
“bullshit” and “so fucking hot I wanna punch a goddamned wall” to
myself as I go.

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.