Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 114492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Sarah grins broadly. “You look perfect,” she says. “He’ll be putty in your hands.”
Jonas opens the door and there he is, the Playboy himself, dressed in a designer suit perfectly tailored to his muscled frame, standing next to a much smaller, kind of nerdy-looking guy in a V-neck T-shirt and goatee.
Holy shitballs. My chest constricts at the sight of Josh’s utter deliciousness.
Was he always this hot?
I’ve ogled countless photos of Josh on the Internet since I first met him at Jonas’ house two weeks ago, but absolutely no two-dimensional simulation of the man comes even close to capturing his magnetism. He’s oozing raw masculinity, even in that expensive suit. In fact, the sophistication of his clothes somehow emphasizes the brute swagger hiding underneath the fabric. Oh my fucking God. This man is sex on a designer stick.
“You ready?” Sarah whispers.
I nod. “Let’s do it.”
She grabs my hand and we bounce happily over to the guys.
Oh shit, I’m trembling. What the hell’s gotten into me? I never act this way. I feel like a schoolgirl with a crush.
“Hey, Party Girl with a Hyphen,” Josh says, his eyes sparkling wickedly.
“Well, hey yourself, Playboy,” I say, sounding remarkably collected, I must say. “It’s a crazy, fucked up world when a Playboy and a Party Girl cross paths in Vegas, huh?” He bursts out laughing and I join him. “It’s good to see you again,” I say. Wow, I sound like I hardly give a shit. Sometimes I amaze even myself.
Josh wraps me in a huge hug and kisses me on both cheeks and I practically melt into his strong arms. Oh my God, his cologne is divine. Was he wearing that cologne the first night I met him? It’s deadly.
I kiss him softly on the cheek and the sensation of his skin under my lips makes my skin sizzle and pop.
He puts his hand on my cheek and brings his lips to my ear. “You look gorgeous, Party Girl,” he whispers.
“Uh,” I say. Oh my God. I can’t even think. Is it possible he’s gotten even better-looking than he was two weeks ago?
Josh grins. “You ready to find out how this story ends, Party Girl?” He rubs his thumb along my cheek.
Before I can reply, the hipster guy standing next to Josh makes a weird noise, like a horse rejecting a saddle, and I suddenly realize I haven’t introduced myself. I train my full attention on the hipster-nerd-guy and extend my hand, ignoring the fact that my cheek is still tingling where Josh just touched me. “Hi, I’m Katherine Morgan,” I say. “But everyone calls me Kat.”
“Oh. Huh. Hi. See. I’m ... Nice... fleb beet you.”
“What?” I laugh.
“Hennessey. But... calls... Henn. Me. Calls. Henn. Everyone. Me.”
Jonas bursts out laughing from behind me and the hipster guy’s face turns beet red. Oh my gosh, this hacker dude’s the most adorable human I’ve ever met. I’m already in deep, irreversible like with him. Without even thinking about it, I wrap him in a huge hug and kiss his cheek. He looks like he could break into beat poetry at any given moment. Adorbs! I want to take him home and put him in a rhinestone jacket and feed him treats. “I’m so excited to meet you, Henn,” I say. I kiss him on the cheek again and his face turns the color of a vine-ripened tomato.
“Kat, stop treating Henn like a Chihuahua,” Sarah says. “Henn, tell her to stop assaulting you.”
I laugh and release the poor guy. “Sorry, Henn,” I say. “I’m impulsive. I should have warned you. Sometimes, I just can’t control myself.” I glance at Josh on that last comment and his eyebrows drift up, every so slightly.
Henn nods and mumbles something adorably incoherent.
“Time for alcohol!!” Josh booms. “I always say, ‘If a guy doesn’t drink, he must be a total fucking tool.’ Or, at the very least, he’s just fucking boring.” He shoots me a smart-ass grin and strides to the bar. “Don’t you agree, Kat?”
I twist my mouth, trying desperately not to smile. “Not necessarily,” I say. “Sometimes, it just means a guy is disciplined.”
Josh scoffs. He refills my champagne glass and then Sarah’s and grabs three beers from the fridge. “Oh yeah,” he says, snapping his fingers like he’s just remembered something important. He opens the first of the bottles and hands it to Jonas. “I’ve also heard from several extremely reliable sources that guys who don’t drink also make limp-dick-shitty-ass lovers.”
“Really?” Henn asks.
“Yup.”
“Well, jeez,” Henn says. “Hand me a beer, then. Pronto. And a couple shots.”
Josh hands Henn a beer, his eyes still trained on me, his expression clearly saying, “Don’t fuck with me, little girl—you’re out of your depths.”
I look away. Holy shitballs, Josh Faraday is sexy as hell.
The five of us move to the black leather couches in the sitting area and make ourselves comfortable—and I gotta say when Josh Faraday makes himself comfortable, it’s a sight to behold: he leans back, spreads his strong legs, and unapologetically adjusts his dick in his pants.