Page 73 of Trapped with the Forest Ranger
He moves toward me. Steady. Inevitable.
I run to him, my feet slamming the linoleum, my breath burning in my lungs like wildfire and smoke. We collide in the center of the terminal like something torn from a fever dream.
His arms crush me to his chest with a force that would hurt if it wasn't exactly what I've been starving for. My legs wrap around his waist on pure instinct. I bury my face in his neck, inhaling the scent of pine and woodsmoke andhim—Caleb, my Caleb—and he lifts me,spins me, in a wide, dizzying circle that makes me laugh and sob simultaneously.
His voice is in my ear, low and choked and everything I've replayed in my dreams.
"God, I missed you." The words vibrate against my skin.
"I missed you so much," I whisper back, my lips brushing the stubble on his jaw, feeling each coarse hair against my sensitive skin. "Every second."
When he sets me down, hiscalloused hands frame my face like I'm made of glass. His eyes are wet, glistening like river stones. His kiss is brutal.
Desperate.
Months of absence poured into the slide of lips, the clash of teeth, the low groan rumbling from his chest when my tongue meets his. He tastes like coffee, and mint, and coming home.
"I need you in my truck. Now," he rasps against my mouth, his breath hot and ragged.
"Yes." I kiss him again, harder this time, claiming. "Take me home."
The ride up the mountain is silence, and heat, and anticipation thick enough to choke on. His hand never leaves my thigh, a brand through my jeans. His thumb draws slow, scorching circles just above my knee, each sweep inching higher. I shift in the seat, thighs inching farther apart of their own accord, and he groans—a primal sound that reverberates through the cab.
"Harper..." My name in his mouth is a warning, a prayer.
"Touch me." The words escape, raw with need.
"Not until I get you alone." His voice is gravel and promise. "Not until I can take my time."
He takes the corners sharp, tires spitting gravel, like he's racing the need clawing up both our spines. Every glance from him is molten copper, burning through my defenses. My body is already soaked, every nerve ending trained on him, onwhat comes next.
Six months of fantasies are about to become reality.
The forest thickens around us, familiar yet somehow more vibrant than I remember. Sunlight filters through pine needles, casting dappled shadows across the dashboard. The scent of mountain air fills the cab each time Caleb cracks his window—crisp, clean, carrying the hope of endless nights under stars and mornings wrapped in quilts on the porch.
When we pull up in front of the cabin—ourcabin, though I never let myself call it that before—we don't even make it to the door.
His hand is on my ass the moment I step from the truck, pulling me flush against him. My backpack hits the ground with a dull thud. He's kissing me like possession, like worship. I tear at his shirt buttons, desperate to reach skin. He yanks mine over my head in one fluid motion, cold air raising goosebumps across my exposed flesh.
The door slams open beneath his shoulder, and we tumble inside. Heat explodes between us, six months of restraint evaporating like morning mist.
His mouth blazes a trail down my throat, my collarbones, the swell of my breasts above my bra. My hands tangle in his hair—longer now, wild, pulling, begging without words. He lifts me like I weigh nothing, and I wrap around him again, breathless as he lays me out across the wooden table where we shared our meals.
"Fuck, I need you," he growls, fingers hooking into my jeans, peeling them down my legs like he's unwrapping something precious. "I dreamed about this. Every goddamn night."
The reverence in his eyes as he looks down at me, laid bare and vulnerable, makes my chest ache with everything unspoken between us.
His mouth crashes into mine like a wave against cliffs. One hand tangles in my hair, tugging just enough to make my back arch. The other cups my face like I'm something fragile, even as he's taking me apart piece by piece with each burning touch.
He doesn't tease. Doesn't wait.
He drives into me with a growl that vibrates through my bones, filling me in one hard, perfect stroke that makes me scream his name into the cabin's hushed air. My body stretches, accommodates, and welcomes him home.
We move like we never left eachother. Like time bent to our will. Like the mountain waited too, holding its breath for my return. Every thrust is a confession. Every gasp is a promise kept.
"Caleb," I gasp, nails dragging down his back, leaving trails of crimson in their wake. "Harder. I need to feel you."
His fingers dig into my hips, lifting me slightly, slamming deeper. "Say it." His voice is strained, desperate. "Say what you couldn't before you left."
