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 evenbetter-lookingthan 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 givenmoment. 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 fuckingboring.” 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 isdisciplined.”
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 severalextremelyreliable 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.
“I’m shocked you splurged on this place, bro,” Josh says, glancing around the room. “So un-Jonas-like of you.”
“Would you stop telling me what’s Jonas- or un-Jonas-like of me already? Apparently, you have no idea what I’m like.”
Josh laughs. “Apparently not.”
I bite my lip.Sexy man. Sexy man. Sexy man.I can’t think straight.
Henn opens the browser on his computer and logs into some application-program-thing.
“Okay, folks. I’ve got an update on the Oksana sitch you had me working on.”
“Fantastic,” Jonas says, rubbing his hands together.
We all crowd around Henn’s laptop—and when I bend over to get a good look at Henn’s screen, Josh rests his hand on the small of my back. Oh my God, his touch is drawing every ounce of blood from my brain into the three square inches of flesh under his palm. Holy Hotness, Batman, I can barely process what Henn’s saying right now. It seems to be something about someone named Oksana Belenko.
“Sounds like an Olympic ice skater, doesn’t she?” Henn says, but I’m barely listening. Josh’s hand has moved from the small of my back to the curve of my hip. Holy shitballs. Nuclear energy is wafting off Josh’s body just a few inches from mine.
“Boom shakalaka,” Henn says, showing us something on his screen.
