Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 128417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
I made fun of Jonas pretty relentlessly for the way he went ballistic over Sarah’s anonymous email, sight unseen, but now I get it. Shit, I might even owe Jonas an apology for the way I gave him shit about that. If Sarah’s note was even half as clever and sexy and hot as Kat’s, then it’s no wonder Jonas fell so hard for—
I jerk my head up from my screen, my heart suddenly rising into my throat. Did I just compare Kat and me to Jonas and Sarah? My chest tightens. I hear my pulse in my ears.
Yeah, I did.
I close my laptop, unlatch my seatbelt, and walk quickly into the bathroom, my head reeling. Once there, I latch the door with shaking hands, splash cold water on my face and rock-hard dick (because the idea of wacking off in an airplane bathroom is too gross even for me) and then I stare at myself in the mirror.
“Just breathe,” I say to myself out loud. Shit, I look like Jonas right now. “Don’t overthink it, bro. Just stay in the moment. Chill the fuck out.”
But the blue eyes staring back at me won’t be soothed.
How do you know? I asked Jonas.
I just know, he said.
I look at myself in the mirror for another long beat, water dripping down my cheeks and off the tip of my nose.
“She’s your Kryptonite, man,” I finally say to my reflection. “You’re totally fucked, Superman.”
21
JOSH
“Checking in, sir?” the valet attendant asks as he opens my car door.
“Yeah.”
“Need assistance with any bags?”
“Nope.” I hold up my car keys and a one-hundred-dollar bill. “No cars parked on either side of it.”
“Yes, sir.” The attendant grabs my keys and the C-note out of my hand. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“Bring it back with no dings in the doors and I’ve got another hundred for you.”
“Thank you, sir. You got it.”
I grab the small duffel bag on my passenger seat, straighten my tie, and stride toward the front of the hotel. Holy fuck, I can’t remember the last time I was this eager to see a woman. Okay, fine, I’m full of shit—I’ve never been this eager to see a woman, ever, and I know it.
This whole past week, even though I’ve been absolutely swamped with work hammering out the transition strategy for Jonas and me from Faraday & Sons, I’ve nonetheless managed to continuously count the minutes to seeing Kat again. When I haven’t been working, the only way I’ve been able to prevent my mind from spiraling into some sort of Jonas-style obsession, has been to keep myself constantly busy. I’ve gone to the gym and worked out like a motherfucker every night this week, followed by going home to my empty house and distracting myself with one of four go-to activities (all of which I performed while lying naked in my bed): 1) strategizing about how I’m gonna deliver on Kat’s crazy-ass (but awesome) fantasies; 2) reading one of the sex-books Jonas sent me (fantastic reading, I must say—I owe my brother a huge ‘thank you’); 3) chatting with Kat on the phone (or on FaceTime); and 4) jerking off, an activity which, quite frequently, overlapped with activities one, two and three (but mostly activity three).
A doorman holds open the heavy glass doors of the hotel and tips his hat to me as I enter the building. “Good evening, sir. Welcome to The Four Seasons Beverly Hills.”
“Thanks,” I say, gliding into the expansive lobby.
Yeah, Kat and I had some pretty fucking amazing phone- and video-chat-sex this past week, that’s for sure, including two separate times when she let me watch her turn herself inside-out with pleasure while riding her new toy. But we also just talked a whole lot, too, about anything and everything, for hours and hours every single night—and it was awesome.
In one conversation, Kat told me a thousand hilarious stories about her family, and I laughed ’til my stomach hurt. Damn, she’s got a fierce and funny family—and, man, do they look out for each other. When I found out Kat gave her craps winnings to her little brother so he could record an album with his band, I instantly felt this weird sense of relief more than anything else—relief that I’ll never have to explain or defend my bond with Jonas. Clearly, the girl already completely understands what it means to put someone else’s needs above your own.
I reach the check-in counter in the lobby and stand in line behind an old white guy accompanied by a much younger (and absolutely beautiful) Asian woman.
“I’ll be right with you,” the clerk says to the couple standing in front of me in line, looking up from assisting a family of five with their check-in. I nod curtly, just in case she was directing her comment to me, too, and then let my thoughts quickly drift to Kat again.