Page 120 of Catcher's Lock

And so. Fucking.Mine.

“Look at me.Look at me, Rocket. I—” And then, from someplace naked and hopeless with longing: “Seeme.”

“I see you.” His eyes are wide open, a treasure spilled across black sand, and his legs are a vise around my waist. Holding my greedy gaze, he digs his heels into my ass and cants his hips, drawing me to irrevocable depths.

Time slows, eddying in molasses swirls as we rock together, all breath and sweat and heated skin. It’s not even fucking—his nails bite the backs of my hands, and I’m drowning in his mouth, and we have crossed to somewhere sacred.

“You—oh god—I can’t—I’m gonna—” he gasps against my lips.

YesyesyesIwantitIwantitallpleaseyes.

I don’t know if I answer out loud or if I send it along the pathways of prayer, but he arches under me, muscles coiling against mine, and everything draws tight and startlingly lucid.

Heat spills wetly between us from his trapped cock, and he fuckingsingsfor me.

Now, I amperfectperfectperfect, and I amwithhim, and I…

am

home.

“Are you ready for everything to change?” Josha asks once we’ve swapped out the sheets—for the fourth time this week—and crawled back into bed. After years of couch surfing and crappy motels, I’m not that squeamish, but it’s gonna be fun seeing how my man handles snuggling up in the wet spot between sporadic laundromat runs on the road.

“You mean being on tour?” I’m floating in that luscious post-nut phase before sleep takes me, content to drift away on the low cadence of his voice.

“It’s a lot.” His fingernails rake lightly over my scalp, and if I were Zombie, I’d be purring. “Long days. Hard work. No fucking privacy. Your mom will get bitchy, and Cheyenne will get manic, and we won’t be able to escapeback here when the postshow partying happens.”

Ignoring a flicker of unease, I hook his calf with my heel to pull his leg between mine and nuzzle into his shoulder. “I know the drill. I’ve been doing this longer than you, remember?”

“You haven’t done it sober in a long time.”

And…now I’m awake.

He has a point. No matter how well I’m doing with Oscar and my meetings, being on the road is an entirely different monster, and no one will have time to waste coddling me. My pride might bristle at the extra care I’ve been receiving, but I can’t deny it’s made things easier.

It’s childish to resent Josha for voicing his concerns simply because I made it through one night in town without fucking up. I’m so stupidly lucky to have him in my corner after everything I put him through—it’s not his fault I’m constantly caught between guilty and grateful, worrying that he’s more invested in my sobriety than I am and what it will mean if I don’t catch up.

As always, the only thing I have to offer in exchange for his honesty is my own.

“You’re right,” I admit. “Are you asking if it’s gonna be hard? Because yeah, probably. Are you asking if I’m having second thoughts about going? Because I’m not.” When he doesn’t reply, I tip my head to look at him. “Are you? About having me along, I mean?”

“No. I want you with me. And before you ask, it’s not only so I can keep an eye on you.”

“I get it. I’ve got you hooked on the mind-blowing sex.” I try for the tease, but he frowns, then rolls over, covering my body and bracketing my head between his forearms.

“I want you with me becauseeverything’sbetter with you—not just the sex.”

He’s soserious, and beautiful, and I can’t quite breathe under his weight.

“You know,” I muse, bringing my hands to his chest. “Now that I think about it, I’m not sure you saying sex with me is better than jerking off is much of a compliment.” My fingers curl into his pecs.Am I pulling him closer or pushing him away?

“Gem,” he growls, capturing my jaw and forcing me to meet his gaze. “Why is it so easy for you to be serious when you’re tearing yourself down, butimpossiblewhen I’m trying to build you up? You tell me every day how smart I am, andI love you. If you insist on the one, you have to believe you’ve earned the other. Stop trying to blow me off. I let you into my body tonight, and it was more than just sex for me. Don’t act like you didn’t feel the same.” His lips hover over mine, but when I close my eyes for the kiss, he digs his fingers in and shakes my jaw. “Isee you.”

“I see you too,” I whisper, my throat suddenly aching. “And I love you. You believe me, right? That I mean it the way you do? That this is real?”

He drops his forehead to mine, and now he’s the one closing his eyes. “I believe you,” he says. “Now promise me we’ll make it through this tour.”

“I promise.”