Page 64 of Infatuation

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 ontothe 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, literallyinsane.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—Ireallydidn’t—but I supposehearingabout her andseeingher 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 andJen,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 hereallythat 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’mnice.Or, okay, I’m notmean(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-outmean(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 goquitethat 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.

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