The Consummation: Josh and Kat Part III (The Club Book 7)

by Lauren Rowe

  My heart skips a beat.

  A sexy smile dances on his lips. “I didn’t tell you because I’m having a hard time believing feelings this intense could possibly lead to anything but a gigantic fireball in the sky that burns out as quickly as it ignites,” he continues. “But, I’ll be damned, no matter what happens, my feelings don’t seem to burn out—not at all—they just keep on blazing hotter and hotter.” He bites his lip. “And hotter.”

  If I were a cartoon character, I’d be saying, “Hummanah-hummanah-hummanah” right now. But since I’m a flesh-and-blood human, I just stare at Josh, my chest rising and falling with my sudden arousal.

  Josh grins. “So don’t say I didn’t want you to find out. Big difference. Okay?”

  I nod, my eyes wide. I want to tackle him. Lick him. Kiss him from head to toe. Suck his dick. But I don’t move a muscle.

  Josh settles into a chair and moves the Scrabble pieces around on the table. “Now pick your fucking tiles so we can play the game.” He picks up the directions sheet from the box and studies it while I continue staring at him like a wide-mouth bass. “It says here each player picks seven tiles,” he says.

  My crotch is burning. My nipples are hard. That was the most incredible speech any man has ever given me—and he wasn’t even buzzed or high or enacting some sort of fantasy role-play when he said it.

  “We’re seriously gonna play Scrabble right now?” I manage to say. My cheeks feel hot. My clit is buzzing. All I want to do is fuck the crap out of him.

  “Yup. Sit the fuck down, Party Girl. We’re gonna test my theory that you and I can have fun doing literally anything. Since playing Scrabble is my idea of the seventh circle of hell, I figure if we can have fun doing this, then I’ll have empirically proven once and for all we can have fun doing anything. And if we can have fun doing anything, then I also will have empirically proven I’m not Garrett Bennetting you.” He rolls his eyes with disdain. “Which, by the way, still pisses me off that you’d even think that for a minute.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but close it again.

  Josh claps his hands like he’s commanding a puppy. “Now, come on, Party Girl, sit down and pick your fucking tiles. Time to get your tight little ass whooped.”

  I sit down across the table from him and stare at him blankly.

  “Pick seven tiles,” Josh says, motioning to the scattered game pieces on the table.

  I make a face like he’s a total dork, but I do as I’m told.

  After I’ve got my tiles lined up on my rack, I look up, blankly. “Okay,” I say.

  Josh’s gorgeous blue eyes are fixed on me intensely. “Go ahead,” he says, motioning to the table. “Play Scrabble.”

  “‘Play Scrabble’?” I say. “I’ve never played this game before. I have no idea what to do.”

  “You’ve never played Scrabble?” he says, incredulous.

  “We always played cards and video games at my house—not board games. You go ahead and I’ll just do whatever you do.”

  Josh grabs the directions sheet off the table in a huff. “Well, shit. I dunno what the fuck to do—I’ve never played Scrabble, either. I thought you’d know, growing up in a real family, and all.”

  I bite my lip, trying not to smile.

  Josh scans the directions for a moment, obviously completely annoyed. “Jesus, Kat, I figured you’d played all the board games.” He reads again for a long moment. “Okay, well, it looks ridiculously simple. Seems like we just lay tiles on the board to spell words and rack up points for the letters. Nothing to it.”

  “Okay. You go first,” I say.

  Josh pauses briefly, considering the tiles on his rack, and then lays down three letters: D-U-M.

  “Dum?”

  He shrugs sheepishly. “I don’t have ‘B-S-H-I-T’ on my rack,” he says. His eyes flicker with apology. “I was a total dumbshit for not telling you about Seattle,” he says softly.

  I nod emphatically. “Yeah, you were.”

  “I know—I just said that,” he says. “Okay, that’s six points for me. It’s your turn.”

  I assess the seven tiles on my rack and lay down three: A-S-S. “I don’t have ‘H-O-L-E,’” I say, smirking. “How many points does that get me?”

  Josh is clearly stifling a smile.

  “Come on,” I say. “How many points?”

  Josh looks at the directions again. “Three. But I think you should be awarded triple points for being one hundred percent right.”

  “Agreed. Okay, your turn,” I say, jutting my chin at him. “Play Scrabble, Josh.”

  “I think I’m supposed to pick three more tiles to replace the ones I already played,” he says. He picks up the directions sheet again. “Yeah. It says here we both pick tiles to replace the ones we’ve played.”

  We each pick three additional tiles and, after brief consideration, Josh lays his new word onto the board: W-O-O.

  “Woo?” I ask. “Like ‘woo-hoo!’?”

  “No. Like, ‘woo,’” he says. “Like ‘I’m gonna woo you, Miss Katherine’—like, you know, old timey wooing.” He flashes a charming smile. “As in, ‘You better brace yourself, Miss Katherine, because I’m gonna woo the fucking shit out of you.’”

  “Oh my goodness, sir. You’re gonna woo me shitless?”

  “Yes, I am, m’lady.”

  “Well, sir, I’m not completely sure I’m ready to be wooed shitless, to be perfectly honest. What would people say?”

  “You don’t get to decide. You’re gettin’ wooed shitless whether you like it or not.”

  My pulse is pounding in my ears.

  “Okay. Quit stalling,” Josh says. He motions to the game board again. “It’s your turn. Play Scrabble, Kat.”

  I bite my lip and look at my tiles, considering my move. But none of the letters on my rack are calling to me, so I begin rearranging the tiles Josh used to spell W-O-O.

  “No, babe, you’re supposed to use new tiles from your—” Josh begins, but he abruptly stops talking when he sees the word I’ve spelled with his tiles.

  “Ow,” I say softly, reading the new word I’ve created.

  Josh’s face twists with what appears to be sincere remorse.

  “You really hurt my feelings, Josh,” I say. “I felt totally rejected—like I’m in this relationship all by myself.”

  Josh opens his mouth to speak but apparently thinks the better of it. He begins furiously peeking at the down-facing tiles on the table, apparently looking for something specific, and when he’s found his desired tiles, he lays a word onto the game board: S-O-R-R-A.

  “Sorra?” I ask.

  Josh shrugs. “I couldn’t find a ‘Y.’”

  I bite my lower lip, simultaneously amused and touched.

  “I’m sorry, Kat,” Josh says softly. “I didn’t tell you about Seattle because there’s something wrong with me—not because there’s something wrong with you. You’re perfect in every way. I just... ” He looks up at the ceiling, apparently searching for the right words. “I just fucked up, that’s all,” he finally says matter-of-factly. “Because I’m fucked up—more than you know.” He pauses. “More than I even realized.”

  I bite my lip and nod.

  “And, in the interest of full disclosure, this probably won’t be the last time I fuck up, either. I’m not sure exactly how or when I’ll do it again, but I most certainly will. And when I do, please, just try to be patient with me. I’m trying my damnedest to ‘overcome’ every single day—I swear I am—and, mostly, I succeed. But sometimes, I can’t seem to get out of my own way.”

  I swallow hard, stuffing down the fierce emotion rising up inside me.

  Josh exhales. “I’m really, really sorry, Kat,” he says, his blue eyes begging for forgiveness.

  Oh, his eyes. I could get lost in those beautiful blue eyes forever. I begin hurriedly peeking at the undersides of tiles spread out on the table, looking for specific letters. Finally, when I’ve gathered almost everything needed, I lay my tiles dow
n on the table: I-F-O-R-G-V-U.

  Josh cocks his head to the side, looking at my tiles.

  “I forgive you, Josh,” I say. “But I’m too impatient to keep looking for the rest of the tiles.”

  Josh lets out a long, relieved exhale, and before I can say another word, he swipes the game board off the table, scattering tiles all over the floor, pulls me out of my chair, and proceeds to maul me.

  “I’m so sorry,” he breathes between voracious kisses.

  “I forgive you,” I say, my body exploding with desire.

  “I’m not Garrett Bennetting you.”

  “I know. I’m sorry I said that.”

  “Never,” he murmurs.

  In a frenzy of heat, he pulls off my clothes and guides me onto the table on my back and begins covering my body with greedy kisses. He’s everywhere, all at once. His lips are on my neck, and then my breast; my nipple’s in his hungry mouth; his fingers are brushing lightly against my thigh and then across my hipbone. I arch my back with pleasure at the urgency of his touch, his mouth, his lips.

  “I’ve been wrecked without you,” he whispers.

  “Me, too,” I say. I breathe in his intoxicating scent and shudder with desire. “I was miserable.”

  “I wanna be with you when I move every fucking day,” he says, and my clit zings like Josh just sucked on it.

  I moan loudly, already on the edge of ecstasy.

  “I can’t stand being away from you, Kat. It hurts.”

  My clit flutters and ripples wildly with anticipation.

  “Please, please don’t ever shut me out again,” he breathes.

  “Josh,” I blurt, my excitement beginning to boil over.

  His tongue finds my clit and I arch my back, shoving myself into him urgently. He groans loudly, obviously enjoying my reaction, and the sound of his pleasure sends me over the edge. I let out a low growl as my body begins clenching and rippling ferociously into his mouth, and he responds with noises that quite clearly convey his excitement.

  When I’m done climaxing, Josh begins working his way from my crotch toward my face with his tongue and lips. I’m writhing, moaning, out of my head with desire—his for the taking, in every conceivable way. When I feel his hard-on slide inside me and fill me up to the brim, I explode and melt at the same time. I reach around him and pull him into me by his muscled ass, attacking him with deep and passionate kisses. I throw my legs around his waist and lift my pelvis, synchronizing my movement with his, moaning like a cat in heat as he fucks me.

  Josh presses his lips against my ear. “My heart is on the line, too,” he whispers as his body rocks with mine.

  I gasp and claw at his back, pulling him into me as deeply as I can, my heart and body bursting simultaneously.

  “I was wrecked without you, babe. Don’t do that to me again.”

  He pulls out of me, turns my twitching, trembling body around, and bends me over the table. In a flash, he’s inside me again, pumping into me while kissing the back of my neck.

  My body’s on fire. My heart’s racing. For the first time since I peed on that goddamned stick, I feel like me again.

  “Don’t leave me,” he whispers hoarsely in my ear.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I say, gasping for air.

  “Don’t cut me off again.”

  “I won’t,” I grit out, just as another orgasm rips through me. “I’m all yours, Josh. Oh my God. I’m all yours. Fuck.”

  He comes behind me, clutching me fiercely as he does, his fingers digging deeply into my flesh, and then we both collapse onto the table into a mangled, crumpled heap, mutually gasping for air.

  When we’ve quieted down, he slides into his chair, his chest still heaving, and pulls me into his lap.

  My chest is pressed against his.

  My arms are wrapped around his neck.

  I rest my cheek on his shoulder, breathing deeply, fighting to quell my sudden urge to bawl and/or barf all over him.

  Finally, when I’m pretty sure I’m not gonna cry or hurl, I lift my cheek and look into his sparkling blue eyes. “Was that one of our boring ‘real life’ activities, Josh?” I ask.

  Josh laughs and makes a face like I’m a total smart-ass.

  “So what other boring ‘real life’ activities are on tap for the weekend, babe?” I ask.

  Josh strokes my hair for a moment. “Well, tomorrow we’re going hiking in Runyon Canyon and then I thought maybe we’d do a little grocery shopping and stop at the dry cleaners on the way home.” He smirks. “And then I thought maybe we’d play some late-night backgammon while guzzling club soda—and then maybe binge watch The Walking Dead. You know, just normal, real-life stuff boring people in normal relationships do. No saving the world, no cocktails, no poker chips.” He shrugs nonchalantly, but there’s a wicked gleam in his eye.

  Clearly, he’s daring me to say, “Never mind what I said in front of the karaoke bar—gimme more of the Playboy Razzle-Dazzle, baby!” But, obviously, I can’t say any such thing without Josh hopping up to make me a stiff drink. “Hmm,” I say. “That all sounds super fun. I’m totally on board. I especially like this no-booze idea—good thinking. Maybe Boring Cameron Schulz was onto something.”

  Josh scowls.

  “But maybe we don’t have to be so disciplined about experiencing real life,” I continue. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt if we mixed a tiny bit of fantasy in with our real-life activities?”

  Josh raises an eyebrow. “Well, gosh, PG, I wouldn’t want you to compromise your core values or anything.”

  I narrow my eyes and flare my nostrils at him.

  He smirks.

  “What about this?” I say. “What if we skip any and all mind-altering substances for, oh, I dunno, let’s say a month, just for kicks—but we also continue fulfilling items on our fantasy-list? Kind of a nice middle-ground-approach, don’t you think?”

  Josh considers. “Kind of arbitrary cherry-picking of what we can and can’t do, I’d say. If we’re gonna do fantasies, why not have a cocktail while we do ’em? I’ve got a great recipe for a basil and lime margarita—”

  “No,” I blurt.

  Josh looks at me quizzically.

  Damn. How the heck am I going to convince Josh it’s completely normal I don’t want to drink? It’s so unlike me as to be worrisome, I’m sure. “Absolutely no booze,” I say. “As a fun challenge—to prove we don’t need it to have a great time. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  “Well, I think it would be good for us.”

  Josh makes a face. “Why, exactly? I’m not sure I understand your thinking on this.”

  I scoff like it’s totally self-explanatory, even though I’m shitting a brick. “So we know we can generate fun and excitement all by our little selves, Joshy Woshy. So we know we’re addicted to each other, organically, with or without having beer goggles on.”

  “Beer goggles?” Josh says, incredulous. “You seriously think I’m attracted to you because I’m wearing beer goggles? Are you mad?”

  I giggle. “Well, no. I don’t think that.”

  “That’s utterly ridiculous,” he says emphatically. He touches the cleft on my chin with his fingertip. “But, okay, my batshit-crazy little terrorist. Your wish is my command, no matter how bizarre. No more booze for either of us for a month. Happy?”

  “Yes, thank you,” I say, exhaling with relief. Wow, I really am diabolical.

  “But poker chips are okay, right?” he asks.

  I smile. “Yes. I think we should definitely reintroduce poker chips into our fun.”

  “Well, all righty, then. Thank goodness for small mercies.” Without hesitation, he stands up from his chair, taking my naked body along with him, and carries me like a baby monkey across the house, making me squeal. In the middle of the hallway, he stops at a closet and bends down to rummage for something (still holding my body wrapped around his), and when he stands upright again, he’s got a poker chip trapped between his teeth.
>
  I giggle and extract the poker chip from his mouth with my teeth.

  “Come on, my little sex slave,” Josh says, licking his lips. “I predict you’ll be wearing a pair of soft cuffs in your immediate future.”

  Chapter 5

  Kat

  “Who are all the guys who’ll be playing?” I ask. “Will Reed be there?”

  It’s Saturday morning and Josh and I are zooming down the freeway in his Lamborghini, en route to a park where Josh is meeting his buddies for their regular Saturday-morning game of flag football—another in a long line of “this-is-what-real-life-would-be-like-if-we-lived-in-the-same-city” activities Josh has planned for us this weekend.

  “No, Reed won’t be there,” Josh says, steering his car onto an exit ramp. “He’s in London with one of his bands. But Henn will be there, plus a bunch of our old fraternity brothers. And lots of guys bring random buddies or brothers to round out the teams.”

  “I’m excited to see Henny,” I say.

  “He said the same about you. You sure you won’t get bored?”

  “Are you kidding? It’s gonna be real life, right? Exciting.”

  Josh chuckles. “Well, if you change your mind and get bored out of your skull, you can always jog around the field and get in a workout. I won’t be offended.”

  “Great,” I say, even though I have no intention of jogging around the field. If I did, I’d almost certainly have to dart behind a bush to barf my lungs out by the second lap. “I’m sure I won’t get bored, though,” I add.

  Josh slows the car and makes a right turn, and then another, and, all of a sudden, we’re in the empty parking lot of a massive football stadium.

  “Hey, I know this place,” I say. I’ve never been to this particular stadium in person, but I’ve watched enough college football on TV to know it’s the famed Rose Bowl—the legendary football stadium where UCLA plays its games. “You and your friends are playing flag football at the freaking Rose Bowl?” I ask, incredulous. “How? Are we gonna climb the fence and sneak in?”

  Josh chuckles. “No, we’re not gonna sneak in—I rented the place.” He pulls his car into a parking spot and kills the engine.