Chapter 31 Catch and Release
catch and release
DUKE
My eyes stutter open, and all at once my heart punches hard against my chest.
Hot damn!
Roxanne is still sleeping tucked against me under our covers, one arm slung across my stomach, one bare knee brushing my thigh where the sleeping bags have slipped down a little in the night.
I close my eyes again, for a second, trying to memorize the weight of her, the way she fits against me like the missing piece I’ve been needing all these years.
Eventually, Roxanne stirs, her body pressing closer in that soft, sleepy way that knocks every thought clean out of my head.
She lets out the smallest sigh and lifts her head, blinking up at me.
“Mornin’,” I whisper.
“Good morning.”
Her voice is soft and sleep-rough. She swallows, then smiles, a little self-conscious. She sits up halfway, rubbing her eyes, and reaches for the water bottle beside her pack. After a long drink, she offers it to me with a shy half-smile.
I take it, still dazed by how natural this feels—passing a bottle, sharing a breath, like we’ve been waking up together for years.
“Thank you for last night,” she says.
“You’re welcome—”
“No, I mean … I want to thank you for last night.”
She leans in, tangles her hand in my hair, and pulls me to her. Her lips brush mine, tentative at first, but her trepidation gives way to a soft kiss that launches thousands of tiny rockets through my body.
The nylon floor rustles as we shift, the sleeping bags twisting beneath us. Her palm slides under my shirt, her fingers setting a slow burn across my chest.
I catch her mouth again, slower this time, savoring.
She sighs into me and breaks the kiss long enough to pull her hoodie over her head, tossing it aside.
For a second, all I can do is stare—the soft rise of her breasts framed by a pale pink bra, the way her skin catches the morning light filtering through the tent.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” I say, cupping her face. She bites her lip and leans in, her lips hovering over mine, teasing me. Her tongue parts my lips and meets mine.
We sink back onto the sleeping bags. My hand drifts down her spine, tracing the curve of her back before resting at her waist. I was already excited from waking up next to her, and now I’m rock hard.
Her body pressing against me feels good, warm, and mine in a way that hits so deep. Her hand slides along my hip, fingers tracing the edge of my waistband. Then she slips lower, her touch deliberate and sure. The world narrows to heat and heartbeat, my vision blurring for a moment.
“It’s morning, Trouble.”
“I know, I … want … to feel you,” she says, her voice low and honeyed.
She tugs at my pants and gently pushes them down.
I feel the cool morning air against my skin.
She stills for a heartbeat, gaze dropping, and when she looks back up there’s a flicker of awe that tightens every muscle in my body.
She takes me in her hand and makes a small sound—half gasp, half moan—and it about levels me.
“I’m not going to last long if you keep touching me like that and making that sound.”
“I can stop … if you want.”
And now she’s stroking me, gently at first, and then her hand cups me fully, and mercy, every nerve in my body is tuned to her rhythmic strokes.
“Don’t stop.” I bury my face in the curve of her neck, breathing her in.
I try to slow her, to draw her back into another kiss. I find her waist, then her pebbled nipple through the thin fabric of her bra. I could stay in here all day, memorizing the soft rise of her body beneath my palms. But she only kisses me harder, as if to tell me she’s in charge.
Yep, she’s definitely in charge this morning and I fucking love it.
My hips lift slightly, chasing her touch like a man starved. Because I am. I’m starving for her.
“I want …” I can barely speak as I’m losing my fucking mind. But through the haze, I’m aware that she’s kissing me with all her clothes on. I want her to feel good, I want her to feel this ecstasy. I reach for her hand and gently tug on her. “What about you?”
She grins and kisses my neck. “What about me?”
“I’m not coming until you do.”
“Duke,” she whispers. “You give so much of yourself to others, I thought it was time you were the center of attention for once.”
She said my name.
Said my damn name.
Not because she was scared, but because I earned it.
She starts again and I can’t speak. I can barely think. All I can do is hold on while she wrecks me with the softest, surest hands I’ve ever known.
“It’s been a long time since …” My mind goes blank as hot waves of pleasure pulse through me. “Damn … feels so good.”
I’ve never had a woman take charge of me like this. Forget that each pass of her hand brings me to the edge, it’s the fact that she’s lying next to me now, nibbling and kissing my neck and gasping right along each time she sees me arch off the sleeping bag.
I want to tell her to stop, that we should wait, that this isn’t fair to her, but my mouth won’t open. My body has already made the choice.
“Rox,” I gasp, “I—”
She hushes me with her lips. “Duke,” she says, softly. “Let go.”
Somehow that pushes me more than anything else. That she wants me to feel safe when I’ve spent so long being the one who has to hold everything together.
The rhythm of her hand deepens, firms, and my body jolts, hips tightening, chest heaving like I just ran five miles.
Everything coils tight, hot and aching, like the entire world is collapsing inward around a single, blinding point of light.
My release crashes through me like a wave I never saw coming, fast and hot.
I exhale her name, breath catching in my throat as I shudder through the force of it.
She holds me, still kissing the corner of my mouth, my jaw, my temple.
My heart is pounding and all I can think is God help me, I am hers.
“Well, that was the most fun I’ve had with most of my clothes on,” I say, still gasping.
“That was fun,” she says, resting her head on my chest.
“This is a new side of you, Trouble.”
Roxanne lets out a quiet laugh, hiding her face in my chest. “I guess being in the woods brings out something wild in me.”
“Then we’re never leaving.”
I silently admit this is my favorite side to her. Free, open … um … assertive as hell. She knew what she wanted to do, and she did it. She had me at her mercy. Not a position I usually find myself in, and I loved every minute of it.
“Your turn,” I say, rolling her on her back.
We ease into another fiery kiss, and just when my hands move over her …
THUMP.
Something drops right outside the tent and we both jolt.
“You’re literally moving mountains out here, my friend,” Topper says outside my door. “Playtime’s over. Breakfast is on.”
I groan, tipping my head back and covering my face with one hand.
“My turn tonight?” she asks.
“If I can wait that long,” I say. I kiss her cheek because I’m still a little breathless, still raw.
I squeeze her tight one moment longer. This isn’t lust for me, it’s a damn breakthrough.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to go back to pretending I can let her walk away, but I guess I’ve got a few more weeks to convince her this might be something worth fighting for.
Another thump hits the tent, and this time I know it’s time to start moving.
Roxanne kisses me once more before grabbing her stuff and ducking out.
I take more than a few moments to clean up and compose myself before joining everyone else for breakfast. My body still feels a little jittery when Rusty hands me a plate of eggs, sausage, and fruit salad.
Thankfully, he’s not acting any different, so hopefully he was out of earshot when I moaned like a Sasquatch this morning.
“Good morning, friends!” Georgia says after a sip of coffee. “Enjoy your breakfast Rusty and Topper made.” Georgia shoots me a look because she knows I always make breakfast on the second day. I take a seat next to Stedman while Roxanne sits next to Rusty.
“Today, we have a little bit of a healthy competition. Y’all are goin’ fishin’ to catch us some dinner. The person who brings back the biggest fish wins.”
“What do we win?” Allie calls out.
“You don’t have to make dinner,” Georgia says.
Laughter ripples through the camp.
“Y’all need to pair up with someone you trust and find your spot in the stream. Pick a rod, a tackle box, a cooler, and head out when you’re ready.” She motions to the fishing gear stacked neatly by the shore.
Everyone splits off, leaving Roxanne and me as we were the last ones to join breakfast.
“Think you’re up for the challenge?” I ask.
“Um,” she says, finishing her last bite of eggs. “I used to fish with my father all the time. It’s the one good memory I have with him. So yeah, I can handle it.” She stands and cleans her plate, stacking it with the others. “I’ll be checking your form though.”
“Oh, really,” I say, chuckling. “Let’s see who catches one first.”
We grab the rods and a couple of packs, and hike east along the ridge, down a slope thick with pine and aspen until the ground levels out near a narrow tributary that feeds the Arkansas.
It’s the kind of spot I’ve always kept in my back pocket.
It’s not on any guide maps, not big enough for rafting, but just right for fishing and forgetting the rest of the world exists.
The sun filters through the trees in fractured bands, lighting up the water where it skips over rock shelves and pools near the bend. The water is cold enough to bite your ankles, and clear enough to see smooth river stones ten feet down.
I show Roxanne the best place to set up where there are flat rocks for standing and enough open water to cast long and easy. She doesn’t wait for instruction. She’s already rigging her line.
“Still can’t believe you know how to fly fish,” I say.
“You think I can’t cast a line because I’ve been in New York too long, huh?”
“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking.”
“Can you give me some room so I can prove you wrong?”
“By all means.” I step aside and motion to the tackle box. “Show me what you got.”
She flips open my fly box and doesn’t hesitate. Her fingers move with surprising confidence as she plucks out a pale little fly with a red tail and upright wing. A damn Parachute Adams.
My brow lifts. “Going classic, huh?”
She smirks. “Adams always gets the job done.”
Roxanne threads the tippet like it’s second nature, ties a perfect improved clinch knot, and moistens it with the tip of her tongue before cinching it down. I’m not proud of the sound that escapes me as my caveman brain watches her do this.
“Hmm, what was that sound?” she asks, feigning shock.
“Probably a bear, ready to cast?”
“If you’d get out of my way.”
She casts with a smooth flick of her wrist, the line unfurling in a perfect arc that lands the fly upstream like silk on water. She adjusts her stance on a slick rock like she’s posing for a Field & Stream calendar, ponytail swishing, fly drifting picture-perfect.
It’s the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.
I make a scoffing sound, and she finally glances over her shoulder at me. “What’s the problem?”
“Your form … something’s off.” I slip up behind her, my hands grazing her back.
“You’re scaring the fish,” she says, shaking me off.
I take a step back, and she lets the line drift for a while. I’m about to sit on a nearby rock when … BAM.
The line jumps. The rod bends and Roxanne lets out the softest, most satisfied little “Yes.”
“What … wait. You’re on?” I step forward like she’s reeling in a piece of gold.
She braces her feet, rod tip high, eyes locked on the water. “Looks like it.”
The fish runs, slicing through the current, and Roxanne laughs as she reels it in.
“Don’t horse it,” I manage.
“I’m not,” she says, cool as hell. “He’s feisty though. Must be a cutthroat.”
I rub a hand down my face. “You don’t have to narrate like a fishing guide, okay? I’m already smitten.”
She brings the fish in smooth, lets it tire itself out, and when she finally coaxes it close, I kneel with the net, barely keeping it together.
“Nice one,” I say. “But probably too small to feed anyone.”
She nods. “Let’s set it free then.”
“Right.” I gently remove the hook and send the little cutthroat on its way.
“Let’s see you try,” she says. “Try being the key word here.”
“Move, please. As a genius, I need more space to work.”
I rig my line and get ready for my first cast when Roxanne steps in front of me. She brings her fist to her mouth and shakes her head.
“What’s the problem?”
“Your form is really off for starters.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Is that so? What do you suggest?”
“I’m honestly not sure I can fix this, but here goes,” she says, running her arms down my shoulders. “You’re looking a little stiff, actually.”
I roll my eyes. “Very funny.”
“No, seriously. Are you okay if I adjust you along the way?” She’s standing in front of me now, blinking rapidly.
“You can do anything you want to me.”
“Good.” She grabs my left arm and then pushes it up over my head. “You’re holding so much tension in your shoulders. I wouldn’t want you to suffer in silence.”
I can’t help but be impressed by the fact that she remembers what I said to her during sunrise yoga, although now she’s getting her revenge by twisting me into the form of a pretzel.
She pulls my lower leg out and grabs my torso with both hands and forces me to arch to the side until finally bringing my right arm straight out.
“There, that’s better,” she says, admiring her masterpiece.
“Thank goodness you were here. I would’ve screwed up my first cast.”
I stay in this form with my arms and legs bent in the most insane way and make like I’m trying to cast. I end up tossing my rod to the ground.
Roxanne holds her stomach and laughs. “Looking good, Cowboy Ken!”
“Damn, didn’t get a fish this time. Better leave the fishing up to you, the expert.”
“Good call.”
I pretend to fall and she catches me. I grab her and twirl her, our laughter echoing off the riverbank.