Page 35 of Trapped with the Forest Ranger
“There’s a boulder at the overlook,” I say, breath hitched, heart in my throat. “Every time we passed it, I imagined you bending me over it. One hand holding me down, the other wrapped in my hair while I scream your name into the wind.”
His head tips back like he’s in pain. His throat works once. Twice. Then his gaze drops to mine—feral. Starved.
“Jesus Christ.” It’s not a prayer. It’s a warning.
He stares at me like I’ve torn something open inside him.
I take one step closer.
“You want to dominate me?” My voice is hoarse, rough with need. “Then stop talking about it and do it.”
His restraint shatters.
He lunges.
One second of stillness—then chaos. His hands grip my face like he’s drowning, his mouth crashing onto mine with zero finesse and absolute need. I gasp, and he takes it—drinks it down like it’s oxygen.
Then he spins me, slams me back against the wall, not hard, but hard enough to make my breath catch.
“Tell me to stop,” he growls against my lips.
“No.”
“Tell me you can take it.”
“I can take it.”
His hands are everywhere—at my hips, up under my shirt, dragging a moan from my throat as he presses every hard inch of his body against mine. There’s no space left. No oxygen. No sanity.
“Caleb—”
His name is a gasp, a plea, a spark.
He bites my lower lip, then kisses the sting like an apology he doesn’t mean. His fingers thread into my hair and tug my head back, forcing my gaze to his.
“You wanted wrecked?” His voice is a vow now. “You’re about to be fucking ruined.”
He’s on me, his mouth crashing into mine, nothing gentle, nothing soft. Just raw, hungry, carnal need. His hands are on my hips, dragging me into him, pressing me against the wall.
I gasp into the kiss and he growls, deep in his throat, a sound that says he’s seconds from losing control completely.
But he doesn’t.
The kiss is brutal, hot, and deep,and utterly consuming. His mouth crashes into mine with enough force to drive me back against the wall. His hands grip my hips like he’s afraid I’ll disappear, like I’m the only thing anchoring him to this earth.
I moan into him, helpless and greedy, as his thigh wedges between mine, grinding upward, forcing a cry from my throat. One of his hands slides up my torso, fingers curling around my throat—not tight, just there—a promise.
And I arch into it.
“Say it.” He pulls back just enough to look at me—really look. His breathing is ragged. His pupils are blown wide.
“I need you to fuck me,” I whisper.
His eyes search mine. Something unspoken trembles between us. His hands fist my shirt. The damp fabric clinging to his calloused palms, and then—he stops.
Just… stops.
His whole body shakes like he’s hanging on by a thread.
