Page 4 of Ranger's Secret

My sister's freshman year of college. Maya had dragged me to her dorm to help move in some furniture. I was twenty-two, fresh out of ranger apprenticeship, and still cocky enough to think I had the world figured out. Delaney was eighteen. Off-limits. But when she opened the door with those messy curls piled on her head and a pencil tucked behind her ear, smiling like I was just Maya's brother and not some goddamn fire that had just found its fuel… I knew.

I knew it then like I know the forest now. Instinct. Certainty. The kind of truth that settles in your bones.

And I've known it every time I've seen her since.

Years of keeping my mouth shut. Years of watching her orbit my life, popping up at family barbecues or celebrations. The way she'd hold her own against my dad's rants, never backing down even when he got that tone that made the rest of us change the subject. She'd just tilt her chin up and fire right back. How she'd slip Maya twenty bucks when she thought no one was looking, because my sister was always broke. The time she drove four hours in a snowstorm to bring Maya soup when she had the flu, then stayed the weekend to help clean up her apartment.

That's when I knew it wasn't just lust. It was everything. Don't get me wrong, she's so fucking beautiful it hurts to look at her sometimes. Those wild curls that have a mind of their own, always escaping whatever she tries to contain them in. Her green eyes that darken when she's fired up. Those lips—those fucking lips that pout when she's concentrating, that I want to bite and suck and watch wrapped around my cock.

But it's more than that. It's the whole package.

She's fierce in a way that makes my chest squeeze. Driven in a way that makes me want to pin her against a wall and tell her she doesn't have to fight so hard, not with me.

But she does fight. That's who she is.

Four years of watching her tear through college while working two jobs. Four years of listening to Maya brag about her best friend's internships, her scholarships, her job offers. Four years of stroking my cock while imagining her on her knees, curls bouncing, that smart mouth of hers put to good use.

Sometimes I've had another woman under me. Sometimes I've whispered her name anyway.

Delaney Holt.

I'm not stupid. I know she wants me. She always has.

The stolen glances when she thinks I'm not looking. The way she goes quiet when I walk into a room. How she would brushpast me in Maya's tiny apartment, reaching across me for the salt at dinner, her fingers lingering just a second too long.

That night at Maya's birthday last year, she finally gave me a sign. She was wearing a light pink dress that clung to her ass like a second skin, practically see-through, and she knew exactly what she was doing. Caught me staring and gave me a slow grin over her wine glass, then ran her tongue along the rim before taking a sip, showing me exactly what that mouth could do.

She might as well have saidcome get me.

So I did.

I cornered her in the hallway, pulled her into the bathroom, and finally took what I wanted. She melted into me, her hands fisting in my shirt, her hips grinding against mine in a way that told me everything I needed to know.

And then Maya called her name, and she bolted.

Didn't answer my texts.

Ran like it meant nothing.

LikeImeant nothing.

So yeah, I'm fucking pissed.

But more than that, I'm done playing games. Done pretending she doesn't own every dark corner of my thoughts. Done letting her run.

She's here now, in my forest. My territory. And I'm going to enjoy every second of pulling her apart, piece by stubborn piece, until she admits what we both know.

She's mine. Always has been.

I've been patient. I've been careful. I've played the part of Maya's responsible older brother who would never touch her precious best friend.

But I’m done with that. Delaney put herself in my path, in my world, where I make the rules.

And my rules are simple: no more running, no more games, no more pretending this thing between us doesn't exist.

She can fight it all she wants. Hell, I hope she does. Watching Delaney Holt come apart is going to be the sweetest kind of reward.

For both of us.

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