Page 17 of Trapped with the Forest Ranger (Angel’s Peak #5)

The return is a blur—Caleb’s hand clamps around mine, possessive, blistering with heat.

His body radiates raw intent, each stride coiled with purpose.

Dominance rolls off him in thick, suffocating waves, and I drink it in like oxygen.

Every brush of his shoulder, every backward glance isn’t just a check-in—it’s a warning. A claim.

By the time the cabin appears, my pulse is a frantic staccato, my skin prickling with anticipation. Nerves strung tight and quivering

The second the door closes, he’s on me.

I’m spun, slammed back against the wall, the impact stealing my breath—but it’s nothing compared to the kiss.

His mouth crashes onto mine with brutal hunger, all teeth and tongue, a collision of need that tastes like heat and fury and everything we’ve been denying.

His hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back just enough to deepen the kiss, to devour me whole.

There’s no gentleness—just the desperate drag of hands and the scrape of his jaw against my skin. He kisses like he’s starving and I’m the last thing left .

I clutch his shirt, scrabbling to pull him closer, to feel the crushing weight of him pinning me down. He growls against my lips—low, guttural, feral—and presses his body hard to mine, hips grinding against my core until I gasp, feeling every inch of how undone he is.

“You feel that?” His voice is a snarl, hips rolling slow and punishing. “That’s how much I’ve wanted you. How close I am to losing control.”

“Then lose it,” I breathe, writhing against him.

His head drops to my shoulder, jaw clenched tight. A tremor ripples through his arms, tension coiled so tight it vibrates against my skin, like a live wire ready to snap. The war inside him bleeds through every muscle, every breath, his restraint stretched thin and fraying.

A sharp inhale—then he draws back just enough to meet my gaze, eyes blazing, wild, undone.

Then his mouth crashes into mine again, and the world disappears. He doesn’t kiss—he consumes. Bites down on my jaw, sucks fire into the tender spot beneath my ear until I gasp his name, breathless.

Warm knuckles brush my skin, dragging the hem of my sweater up with rough urgency. One motion—then it’s gone, tossed aside, forgotten.

His gaze drops like a blow. Scorching. Possessive. Jaw locked tight like he’s barely holding himself together.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He doesn’t wait. Fingers hook into my bra, tugging it down with zero finesse, exposing me to the cabin’s chill—and to him.

Calloused palms find me instantly—cupping, stroking—thumbs circling my nipples until my back bows with a moan, breath catching, thoughts scattering.

A growl rumbles low in his chest, vibrating against my skin as he dips his head. Lips close over one aching peak. Heat detonates—sharp, scorching—as he sucks hard, teeth scraping just enough to tear another gasp from my throat.

One hand pins my hip to the wall, the other palms my breast, rough and reverent, like he can’t decide whether to worship me or wreck me.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he mutters, breath ragged, voice breaking against my skin. “The way you look at me. The way you moan for me. I can’t?—”

The words cut off as his mouth finds mine again—harder, deeper. Teeth sink into my bottom lip before his tongue plunges in, wild and demanding. I kiss him back with everything I have, giving him everything, holding nothing back.

His hands are everywhere—shoving my jeans down, yanking my panties with them.

His touch is feverish, greedy, like he’s been starved, and I’m the only thing that can satisfy the hunger clawing at him.

I kick off my boots, clothes tangling around my ankles, and he cages me against the wall with his body, his strength, his need.

I fumble with his buttons, but he’s done waiting. A guttural sound tears from him as he shrugs off his shirt, ripping it over his head. Suddenly, it’s just him—bare skin, sculpted muscle, raw power. Built for work. Built to ruin.

My hands roam over scars, ridges, and heat. I can’t stop touching him. I can’t get enough. He grinds against me, the thick length of him sliding through my slick heat, and I cry out—nails digging into his shoulders, back arching, body strung so tight I could snap.

There’s no reprieve. No pause. Caleb doesn’t give me a second to think, to breathe, to doubt. He’s on me, his mouth dragging down my throat, teeth catching on the ridge of my collarbone, hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise as he pins me tighter to the wall.

Clothes hit the floor in a blur of motion. When he steps between my thighs, every ounce of restraint is gone. He lifts me like I weigh nothing, my legs locking around his waist, his body a wall of heat and hunger and absolute command.

The bed looms behind us, but he doesn’t look. He never looks away. His eyes lock on mine like a dare, a promise, a threat. Control radiates off him—quiet, terrifying, complete.

And he walks me to the bed, all that heat and virility surging between us.

The second my back hits the mattress, he’s there. On me. Over me. The crush of his weight steals my breath, and his mouth crashes onto mine like it’s the only thing anchoring him to this world.

My wrists are yanked above my head, his fingers threading through mine just long enough to lock me down. The other hand slides lower—slow, deliberate—until it curls around my throat. Not choking.

Just holding.

Claiming.

A silent command that sears straight through my core.

“Before was…” His voice scrapes low, ragged, thick with something unspoken.

“Rushed. Desperate.” His thumb skims the hollow of my throat, feeling the frantic beat of my pulse.

“I needed you too bad to be careful.” His gaze traps mine—hot, unrelenting.

“But this time…” He lowers his weight, his hips pressing into mine, a dark promise in every inch of contact.

“This time I’m going to take my fucking time. ”

His hand slides over my ribcage, slow, possessive. The other stays at my throat, anchoring me.

“But don’t get confused.” His mouth brushes my ear, breath hot, voice darker now. “Slow doesn’t mean gentle. I’m too wound up for that.”

A shiver rips through me.

“You good with that? ”

The question cuts through the haze. A demand wrapped in heat.

I nod, dizzy.

“Say it,” he growls.

“I want everything,” I gasp, arching into him. “Don’t hold back.”

“Good. Because I’m done pretending I can resist you.” A wicked smile twists his lips.

Fumbling for protection, he barely pauses—just enough to tear the foil, roll it on—then he’s back, settling between my thighs in one fluid, possessive thrust that knocks the breath from my lungs.

His rhythm is brutal from the first stroke. Hips snapping. Muscles locked. Each thrust grinds me deeper into the mattress. Every drag of his body against mine is a claim—every broken sound he rips from my throat, a victory he savors.

My wrists stay pinned, his fingers tightening around them as his other hand closes over my throat, not enough to hurt—but enough to own. My breath stutters. The world narrows to him. The pressure. The power. The heat.

“Look at me.” The command cuts through the haze, voice frayed and low.

I drag my gaze up. Wild green eyes lock on mine, burning with hunger and something darker.

There’s no gentleness in the way he fucks me. Just raw, unchecked need. He takes, drives, consumes—each thrust more relentless than the last, until I’m writhing, begging, broken open on a tide of pleasure too sharp to survive.

My name tears from his throat on a guttural groan as he follows me over, his body slamming into mine, shuddering with release. He collapses over me, breath hot against my neck, my name rasped like a vow against my skin.

After, he doesn’t let go. He keeps me caged beneath him, hand still wrapped around my wrist, body heavy and real, as if he’s afraid I might vanish if he lets up for even a second.

And I don’t want to move. I don’t want to run. For the first time, I want to be exactly where I am—claimed, owned, utterly his.

The night doesn’t end there. It detonates.

Caleb doesn’t let me up. Not for long. Every time I think he’s spent, that the storm has passed, he proves me wrong—again and again. He’s a force, a relentless tide, as if years of restraint have snapped and now he can’t get enough, won’t ever have enough.

He takes me on my back, wrists pinned, his body heavy and commanding, driving into me until I’m breathless, hoarse from begging.

He flips me, face-down, hands fisted in the sheets, his palm pressing between my shoulder blades as he fucks me from behind, rough and deep, his voice a low growl in my ear—telling me how good I feel, how he’s not letting me go.

He drags me to the edge of the bed, drops to his knees, spreads my thighs wide, and buries his mouth between them, licking me until I’m shaking, sobbing, pleading for mercy he never gives.

When I come, he groans like he’s starving for it, then flips me again, mouth devouring mine.

He remembers every filthy fantasy I whispered in the dark—and now he brings each one to life. Forces me to my knees, fingers tangled in my hair, guiding me as I take him deep, control absolute, praise rasping from his throat like prayer.

When I glance up, lips swollen, eyes glassy, he curses low, hauls me up, and claims me all over again.

At the window, he lifts me, pins me to the cold glass. Moonlight cuts across our skin—silver on sweat, shadow on muscle. One hand clamps around my throat, the other fists in my hair as he takes me standing, whispering every dirty promise he ever made and making good on every single one.

The wall. The floor. The bed.

Even the boulder out back—the one I teased him about once, blushing and breathless, not really thinking he’d remember.

But he did. Dragged me out beneath the stars, bent me over rough stone, and made me feel his hand branding heat across my skin, his voice low and dark in my ear as I shattered for him.

He uses me everywhere, anyway he wants. Sometimes fast and punishing, driving me to the edge, making me plead for more, for mercy, for him. Other times he slows, draws it out, makes me feel every inch, every second, until I’m shaking, writhing, begging.

No matter how he takes me, he never stops reminding me who’s in control. His hands own me—on my wrists, my hips, my throat. Holding me down. Pinning me open. Guiding every movement. His mouth marks me, his teeth leave proof. He wants me branded, ruined, and claimed.

And he watches—always watching. Possessive. Hungry. Reverent. Like he wants every sound I make, every tremble, every broken gasp. He wants to ruin me, and he does. Again and again, until I’m boneless, shattered, sobbing his name into the dark.

I’m raw, aching, utterly spent. He gathers me into his arms, pressing kisses to my hair, my shoulder, the hollow of my throat. His voice is rough, but there’s a tenderness in it and a promise that he’s not done with me yet.

I should’ve known better than to push.

Caleb isn’t a fantasy—he’s the storm that shatters fantasies.

More relentless than I ever imagined, more consuming than I can withstand, more dangerous than I was ever prepared for. He doesn’t just take—he unravels. Breaks me apart with every touch, every command, until there’s nothing left but need.

Even now, tangled with me in the aftermath, he’s still holding back, still keeping some dark, hungry part of himself on a leash. That realization terrifies me.

Thrills me.

Some reckless, desperate part of me wants to see what happens when he finally lets it go.

“I hadn’t planned this.” Caleb’s voice rumbles beneath my ear, low and rough, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath my cheek. “Told myself not to touch you. Not when you were stranded, soaked to the bone, looking for shelter. Didn’t want to take advantage.”

“The best laid plans…” I smile against his skin, tracing lazy circles over his heart.

“True.” His arms tighten, possessive, pulling me closer so I can’t mistake who I belong to. “My only regret is waiting so long to take you.”

“Who knew getting caught in a storm would lead me to finding shelter with a grumpy ranger?” I tease, but my voice is soft, still raw from everything he’s done to me.

“I wasn’t that grumpy.” A chuckle vibrates through his chest, deep and satisfied.

“You absolutely were.” I prop myself up on his chest, searching his face for any sign of regret. There’s none—just a relaxed openness, a dangerous contentment. “Practically snarled when you opened the door.”

“In my defense, you were tracking mud everywhere.” He smirks, but the words are gentle, almost indulgent.

I settle back into him, letting his warmth anchor me, the steady thump of his heart grounding me in the present.

His fingers thread through my hair, not tentative, commanding, working through the tangles with a patience that feels like ownership.

“You’re not going to run from me, are you?” The question is quiet, but there’s an edge to it—a challenge, a warning.

“No. Not tonight.” I shake my head, breath catching.

“You tell me if you want me to stop, or if you want more." His voice is unyielding, dominant even in vulnerability.

"I’ll take everything you give me. All of it. All of you.” Heat floods my cheeks, my body already answering for me.

He releases my neck only to drag his thumb along my jaw, claiming me with the smallest touch. "You have no idea how much I’m still holding back.”

“That should terrify me.” A shiver runs through me—fear and excitement tangled, impossible to separate.

“It should." His smile turns wolfish. "But you keep pushing. You keep asking for more, and I’ll bring it to you. Every dark, filthy thing you ever dreamed of. Just say the word.”

"I don’t know what that word is, but…" My breath stutters. “I trust you.”

“You take everything I give you, so beautifully.” His hand cups my jaw, tilting my face up for a slow, claiming kiss.

The words curl around me, hot and possessive, sinking straight to my core. His thumb drags along my jaw, holding me in place, gaze burning with a promise that’s anything but gentle.

Caleb doesn’t let me drift. He keeps me close, his dominance coiling tighter with every hour, every look. He doesn’t ask what I want—he tells me, shows me, and makes me want things I never dared say out loud.

He’s still holding back. Holding back because he knows all of this comes with an expiration date.

Because the day will come when I have to leave.

We lie tangled together, the aftermath heavy and sweet, his dominance still coiled around me like a second skin. Night falls as we talk—his stories, my confessions, the kind of honesty that only comes when you’ve been stripped bare, body and soul.

When sleep finally drags me under, I’m wrapped in his arms, his breath hot against my neck, his grip unyielding even in rest.

I feel truly wanted for the first time, which terrifies me more than any storm ever could.