Page 44 of Trapped with the Forest Ranger
He doesn’t let go. If anything, his hold tightens, one hand spread wide over my stomach, the other banded around my waist. His body cages me, heat and strength and barely-leashed hunger.
I turn in his arms, breathless, heart pounding. His eyes are dark, pupils blown, gaze fixed on my mouth. The air between us vibrates, charged and trembling, every second stretching tight as a drawn bow.
“Caleb.” His name is a plea, a dare.
His jaw flexes, restraint hanging by a thread. In one swift, decisive motion, his hand closes around the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair, grip firm and inescapable.
He yanks me closer, mouth crashing onto mine—hot, claiming, his kiss a warning and a promise all at once. His breath is rough against my lips when he finally pulls back, his forehead pressed to mine, eyes burning into me.
“Tell me to stop.” The words are a low, dangerous rumble, his hand still anchoring me in place. “Tell me you don’t want this.”
"I won’t do that." I shake my head, lips parting.
"How dark are you willing to go?"
"As dark as you need."
There’s a beat of silence… then something shatters in him—control, fear, all of it swept away by the storm inside us.
His mouth crashes down on mine, savage, hungry, unrestrained, a kiss that devours, that claims. His hand tangles in my hair, tugging my head back, exposing my throat to his teeth, his tongue, his desperate, reverent worship.
I arch into him, arms winding around his neck, pressing every inch of myself against the hard length of his body. He tastes like pine and rain and the promise of everything I’ve been craving—rough, wild, utterly consuming. I claw at his shoulders, his flannel bunched in my fists as I pull him closer, but closer isn’t enough. I want him inside me, under my skin, wrapped around every breath.
He lifts me effortlessly, pinning me between his body and the tree, his hips grinding into mine, his hand sliding beneath my shirt, fingers splaying over bare skin, hot and possessive.
The kiss turns frantic, all teeth and tongue and breathless moans, years of restraint burning away in the heat of this moment.
“You have no idea,” he growls against my mouth, biting my lower lip hard enough to sting before soothing it with his tongue, “how long I’ve been trying not to do this.”
“Then stop trying.” I arch against him, grinding down on his thigh, desperate, shameless.
He groans—low, primal—and spins me, pressing my front to the tree now, his body flush to my back. One hand grips my hip, the other wraps around my throat, thumb stroking the hollow just beneath my jaw.
Not choking. Not yet. Just holding me there. Claiming.
“This what you want?” His voice is rough silk, dangerous. “Mud on your boots, bark at your back, my cock inside you?”
“Yes,” I gasp, heat flooding between my thighs. “God, yes.”
He presses his face to the curve of my neck, inhaling deeply. “I’ve been trying to be good. To protect you from this.”
I shudder as he drags his teeth along my skin. “I don’t want good.”
“No,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of my ear, “you want ruin.”
His hand slips beneath the hem ofmy shirt, calloused fingers dragging up my bare skin, slow and possessive, until they reach the swell of my breast. He palms it roughly, thumb circling my nipple through the lace of my bra, drawing a broken sound from my throat. My hips jerk back, seeking friction, grinding against the thick line of his cock straining behind his zipper.
“Fuck, you feel like fire,” he mutters, voice shaking with restraint he’s fast losing. “So soft. So goddamn perfect.”
He yanks down the zipper of my jeans, rough and impatient, his knuckles scraping my hips as he pushes the denim over my ass. Cold air licks over my exposed skin, but his body follows—hot and relentless. I brace against the tree, bark biting my palms, as he drags my panties down and slides his fingers between my legs.
A strangled sound tears from his chest.
“Already soaked for me. Jesus.”
“Do something about it,” I choke out, shivering against the assault of sensation.
He doesn’t hesitate.
