Page 67 of Catcher's Lock

“I always thought you were more into Star-Lord.”

“Stop.”

“Stop what?” My face is the picture of innocence, Bambi eyes and all.

“Playing stupid, for one. And acting like you have any right to give a shit who I mess around with.”

They’ve messed around?

All playfulness drops from my tone. “I told you; I’m not watching another man touch you ever again.”

“No one’s asking you to watch.” He shrugs, taking another pull of his maté, but there’s a whiskey sparkle in his eye.

“Are you…fucking with me?” I ask incredulously.

He scoffs. “That would be a switch.”

“I can’t tell if you’re flirting or actually mad.”

“Can it be both?”

Oh my god, heisflirting.

“Sure. But seeing him in your house still makes me want to wrap my fist in your hair and face-fuck you into submission.”

His ears go red as he scowls. God, it pisses him off when I turn him on. Which is disturbingly hot. And also totally his own fault for flirting with me in the first place. Am I not supposed to take the bait?

“You don’t get to be jealous,” he insists. “Especially not of Ellis.”

Stubborn fucker. Setting my can on the hood, I shift to cage him in, bracing my hands on either side of his hips.

“I’vealwaysbeen jealous.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Fisting his hands in my Henley, he spins us with a rough shove, slamming me back against the truck. “I’m the one who had to watch you at parties with your tongue down a different girl’s throat every night. What were you ever jealous of?”

The maté bottle rolls away, spilling the last of its contents into the dirt. The door handle digs into my lower back, and dappled sunlight halos his hair and paints his cheekbones gold. Blood surges to my cock, and I hook my fingers in his belt loops, hauling his hips to mine.

“The guy who’d finally deserve you. The guy who’d come after me. The guy you’d fall in love with. I hated them all.”

“Youwere the guy I fell in love with,” he growls, driving his thigh between mine. “Was I supposed to wait forever? Was I supposed to save it for you? This mouth you rejected? This body you couldn’t get far enough away from?”

I groan, eyes locked on his mouth, and grind helplessly against him.

“Or was I supposed topractice?” He dips his head, bringing his lips close enough to breathe the next words into my ear. “To learn all the ways to destroy a man from my knees so that the next time I saw you,you’dbe the one begging?”

My brain stutters to a complete and grinding halt.

Holy. Motherfucking. Shit.

“Please.”

His lips are a whisper away. His muscular thigh presses treacherously against my aching sac, and his knuckles dig brutally below my collarbone. He’s all molten menace and tight-wire tension, a breath away from breaking.

“Please,” I fucking beg.

“No.” The smirk on his face is so wicked, so completely un-Josha, that my knees go out from under me, and I clutch at his waist to keep from buckling into the dirt.

“Rocket,” I breathe, grasping for the right words. Something hard and hopeless flickers in his eyes, andif I can’t change his mind right now, I might actually die.“Pretend…pretend we’re seventeen again, and we’re lying in our hammock, and everything is perfect. Pretend you’re the reckless one, and I’m the smart one—smart enough to let you do whatever you want to me. What did you want to do to me when we were perfect, Rocket?Do it now.”