Page 36 of Trapped with the Forest Ranger
“Fuck,” he grits out. “You have no idea what you’re asking.” A tremor rolls through his arms like he’s shaking from the effort of holding himself back.
“I do.” My lips brush his. “You don’t scare me. Not even a little.”
His next breath is sharp, brutal. He steps back, his muscles shaking, and his breath ragged. One hand drags over his mouth like he’s wiping away the taste of what he almost did.
“Caleb?” I can barely get the name out. "What?—"
“I can’t.” His eyes squeeze shut. When he speaks, his voice is shredded.
“Why not?”
“Because if I touch you now, I won’t stop. I won’t be gentle. I won’t slow down or ask questions or check in.” He looks at me, wrecked and raw. “And I can’t risk that. Not with you.”
“You think you’ll hurt me?”
“IknowI will.”
And there it is—the fracture line beneath all that mountain steel.
He isn’t scared of wanting me.
He’s terrified he’ll break me.
“I need air,” he says, voice broken. “I need to go before I hurt you without meaning to.”
I reach for him, but he shakes his head, already grabbing his jacket.
“Get out of those wet clothes or you’ll get hypothermic,” he mutters, not looking at me. “There’s a blanket by the stove. I’ll check the water line.”
And just like that—he’s gone.
But this time, it’s not a retreat.
It’s restraint. The kind forged in fire and beaten into bone.
Because even a man built from granite knows when to stop.
Because real control doesn’t come from taking—it comes from knowing when not to.
When he comes back, storm-washed and steel-eyed, boots heavy with mud and decision… He won’t hesitate.
He’ll take.
He’ll strip me bare like bark from a tree, bend me over anything that’ll hold my weight, and make me beg until I forget my name.
Not out of anger.
Out of hunger.
And I’m done pretending I want anything less than to be wrecked by him—mind, body, and every aching inch in between.
Let the mountain bear witness.
Next time, I won’t be the one trembling.
I’ll be the one begging him not to stop.
I press myself into thecorner of the window seat like it might anchor me, trying to make sense of the chaos he left behind. My heart pounds. My thoughts snarl, too tangled to unravel, too loud to silence.
