Josh pulls me to a long, sparkling bar and flags down the bartender.
“Martini?” he shouts into my ear above the thumping music.
“Shots!” I yell. “So we can get onto the dance floor right away.”
“Good idea!” Josh shouts back and turns toward the bar.
Oh man, I’m ready to dance. Even standing here at the bar, my body’s already begun involuntarily herking and jerking to the bass-heavy beat.
A phenomenally good-looking guy in a suit sidles up to Josh and taps him on the shoulder. Josh turns toward the unidentified tap and, when he sees the guy, his entire face lights up. The two men hug with what looks like extreme affection and as they break apart the guy kisses Josh on his cheek with a giant, enthusiastic swak.
Josh motions to me, talking into the guy’s ear, and Mr. Handsome smiles and waves at me, though I can’t hear a thing above the thumping music.
Josh leans into my ear. “Reed’s part-owner of this club.”
“Nice to meet you Reed,” I say, but it’s clear he can’t hear me. He just smiles and waves again. Wow. He’s a really, really good-looking man. I lick my lips. I guess hotties travel in packs.The Brotherhood of the Traveling Hottie McHottie-pants, I think, making myself laugh.
The bartender places the shots in front of us on the bar, and Josh distributes them among the three of us.
Josh leans into Reed’s ear and says something and they both burst out laughing. Reed nods and slaps Josh’s back.
Damn, I wish I had superhuman hearing right now. But all I can hear is the blaring music. Appropriately, the song playing right now is “I Can’t Feel My Face” by The Weekend, a song about a guy who, of course, can’t feel his face, presumably because he’s drunk or high. On what, though, it’s not clear. Booze? Lust? Whichever it is (or both), I’m right there with him. Fo shizzle-pops.
Josh and Reed are still talking in each other’s ears and laughing, so I begin dancing in place to the music, marveling at just how little I can feel my face. Or toes. Or brain. I’m verging on drunk, actually. And it feels hella good.
“Thanks, bro,” I hear Josh say. “I owe you one.”
“You bet.”
Josh turns his gaze on me and smiles like a wolf. He leans into my ear and snakes his arm around my waist.
“You still going commando?” he asks, right in my ear. His hand migrates down to my ass.
“I guess you’ll have to find out for yourself,” I say. “Right after you kiss me and concede to my terrorist demands,” I say.
He laughs. “You mean afteryoukissmeand give up your fuckingjihad.”
I shake my head and retract my lips completely into my mouth, signaling my lips are unkissable until he gives me what I want.
He laughs and grabs my hand. “Come on, Madame Terrorist. It’s time to dance.”
Sixteen
Kat
Holy hell.
If dancing is any indication whatsoever of a man’s sexual prowess, then Josh Faraday is a sex god. Oh my God, the way he swivels and rocks those hips makes me yearn for him to grind them just like that on top of me while wearing nothing but a cocky smile. Holy shitballs. This man canmove.
The song playing is “Want To Want Me” by Jason Derulo and Josh knows every word. He’s singing the song to me, serenading me—and with so much charm and swagger, I can’t help but laugh with glee. I can’t remember having this much fun dancing with a guy—with my girlfriends, sure. But with a guy? Ahotguy? No. Usually, when I’m dancing with a really hot guy, I’m so concerned about coming off as sexy and desirable to him, I forget to just let loose and have fun. But Josh makes it impossible to feel anything but totally uninhibited. Oh my God, I’m laughing too much to even try to be sexy. I throw my hands above my head and wiggle my hips and giggle uncontrollably, mirroring Josh’s confident movement, and he laughs his ass off at every little thing I do. And the crazy thing is, having fun like this is making me so wet, I’m worried I’m gonna drip down my bare thigh in this shorty-short dress.
As the song reaches its conclusion, Josh looks up toward the balcony and locks eyes with Reed. He gives Reed a thumbs up and Reed returns the gesture. When Josh’s eyes dart back to me, he levels me with a smile that makes me feel like he’s planning to put me in an oven with some onions and potatoes.
The song abruptly changes to a hip-hop song I don’t know. But, clearly, Josh does—because as the rapper begins spitting out lyrics,Josh mouths every single word along with him. Oh my God, Josh is freaking hilarious right now. He’s thugging out to the song, going all in, shaking his ass and owning it. Oh man, I’ve never seen a concoction of maleness quite like this before. He’s raw and smooth and funny and hot and goofy all at the same time. He’s redefining sexy for me, right here and now. He’s just... wow.
I listen intently to the lyrics of the song, trying to plumb the depths of my dance-club memories, but nope, I don’t recognize it. I pull out my phone, activate my Shazam app—and just when the song title displays on my phone—“Kiss Me” by Lil Wayne—Josh begins singing along to the chorus. “Kiss me,” Josh raps, grinding his hips like he’s auditioning forMagic Mike. “Kiss me.”
I laugh. What a sneaky little bastard. And a hilarious one.
