Chapter 2

two

. . .

Olivia

Darkness. A throbbing ache in my head. I force my heavy eyelids open and blink against harsh sunlight streaming through curtains. Where am I?

I try to sit up, but a wave of dizziness sends me slumping back against the pillows. A rough blanket scratches my skin.

I take a gulping breath and scan the unfamiliar room—plain wood walls, a fireplace with glowing embers, a small kitchen.

Panic rises in my chest. I don't recognize anything.

Worse, I realize with growing horror, I don't know who I am or how I got here. My mind is terrifyingly blank.

I lick my dry lips and croak out the only thing I remember. "Olivia..."

My name, I think.

Heavy footsteps approach and the door swings open. A large man fills the frame, his rugged face wary beneath a short beard. Piercing blue eyes pin me in place.

"You're awake," he grunts. "About time."

I shrink back. "Who are you? Where am I?" My voice shakes.

He steps closer, looking me over. "Name's Jack. You're at my cabin. I found you passed out in the woods last night."

Woods? Cabin? Nothing sounds familiar. I clutch the blanket tighter. "I don't remember...anything. Except my name. At least, I think it's my name? Olivia."

Jack frowns. "You hit your head pretty hard seems like. Memory loss, I reckon."

Tears sting my eyes. "Do I know you?"

He sighs heavily, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw. "Suppose you'll have to stay here til you recover. Nearest town is miles away. I'll look after you best I can."

I'll take that as a no.

"You'll take care of me?" I search his stoic face. "Why?"

"Ain't the type to leave someone helpless. It's the right thing to do." He shrugs like it's simple.

"Thank you," I whisper, both grateful and unnerved to be dependent on this stranger. But then I suppose everyone is a stranger to me now.

Jack just nods. "Rest. I'll get you something to eat." He turns to the kitchen.

I burrow under the covers, my mind reeling. No memories, no idea who I am or my life before this moment. Only the reluctant charity of a gruff mountain man.

An admittedly very hot, super buffed-up, ruggedly sexy mountain man.

Who I don't know , I remind myself.

Fear and confusion swirl inside me. But with no other options, I have no choice but to trust this Jack and pray my memories return soon.

For now, this lonely cabin is my only refuge.

Jack

I watch her, those big doe eyes wide with confusion and fear, buried under my old blanket.

Olivia.

That's all she's got, one damn name. She looks fragile, broken like a bird with clipped wings, but there's something about her—a flicker of fire behind that vulnerability. Makes me want to stand guard over it, keep it alive.

I turn away, busying myself with the task of cooking, though the clank of the pots is louder than necessary. I can't let her see the effect she has on me. It's not right to feel this draw towards a woman in her state.

She's lost and alone, and under my roof. The responsibility weighs heavy but there's a part of me that can't deny the thrill of being the one she has to rely on. The one to feed her, clothe her, protect her—it stirs something primal in me.

As the eggs sizzle in the pan, I steal glances at her. Olivia, curled up in a ball, like she's trying to shield herself from the world.

I know that feeling, the need to protect yourself from things you can't even remember.

The cabin is quiet, too quiet. The kind of silence that makes every sound a torment, every thought too loud. I push two plates onto the table and call over my shoulder, "Food's ready."

I watch her as she forces herself out of bed and pads softly towards the table, each step hesitant but determined. Despite her obvious weakness, there's an elegance about her movements that catches me off guard. It stirs something inside me that I haven't felt in years.

"Sit," I instruct gruffly, pulling out a chair for her. She obeys without a word, her gaze low.

"Do you remember anything yet?" I ask as I hand her a fork.

She shakes her head slowly, picking at the scrambled eggs with a slight frown. "Nothing more than before. Just...emptiness."

"Give it time," I say, though the words feel hollow even to me. How do you comfort someone who's lost in their own mind?

The meal passes in relative silence, save for the occasional clink of utensils on plates. There's an undeniable tension—a mix of fear, curiosity, and something darker—thickening the air between us.

Olivia's vulnerability makes me want to reach across the table and pull her into my arms, reassure her that everything will be alright. But I can't—not when she doesn't remember who she is or what brought her here. Not when touching her could be crossing a line I've drawn around us—an unspoken boundary borne out of necessity and propriety.

After we finish eating, I clear the plates, trying to maintain a safe distance. Yet, even as I move away, I feel her eyes on me, studying me. The weight of her gaze is palpable, heavy with things unspoken and feelings yet unearthed.

"Thank you," she says softly, her voice laced with a sadness that tugs at my resolve.

I nod, avoiding her eyes. "You need rest. We can try to jog your memory tomorrow."

"I'm scared," she confesses as she stands, her body swaying slightly. "Scared of not knowing who I am, scared of being here..."

I close the distance between us in two strides, my hands firm on her shoulders. "You're safe here, Olivia. I won't let anything happen to you."

Her breath hitches, and those wide eyes lift to meet mine—a storm of emotions swirling within them. For a moment, we're caught in a silence that speaks louder than words could ever hope to. It's filled with the electric buzz of raw need and restrained desire.

Then, impulsively, dangerously, I pull her closer. Her body fits against mine like she's meant to be there. The feel of her, so close and real, floods my senses—her scent fills my nostrils, her warmth seeps into my skin.

"Jack?" Her voice is a whisper against my chest.

I tighten my grip slightly, wanting nothing more than to lose myself in this moment where only we exist. My voice is rough with barely-contained emotion as I answer, "Yeah?"

The air crackles with tension, our breath mingling in the small gap between us.

Olivia tilts her head back, her eyes searching mine, her lips parted slightly. Every instinct tells me to kiss her, to claim those lips and erase the confusion from her mind with the certainty of my touch.

But I hold back, caught between my need and the ethics of the situation.

Her hand comes up slowly, tentatively, to rest against my chest. The contact is like fire to dry wood, igniting something fierce within me.

She whispers again, a tremor in her voice that matches the one running through her fingers. "I don't know who I am, Jack. But I feel...I feel safe with you."

The words unravel me. It's a trust she shouldn't give so easily—especially not to a man she doesn't remember—but it shackles me to her all the same.

"You are safe," I affirm, my voice low and steady despite the storm raging inside me. "As long as you're here, nothing bad will touch you."

We stand there, locked in an embrace that's both a comfort and a torment. Her vulnerability wraps around both of us like a thick blanket, heavy with implications that are as dangerous as they are inevitable.

Finally, I gently set her back from me, putting space between us once more. The loss of her warmth leaves me cold, hollowed out. "You should get some sleep," I say, my voice gruff with restraint.

Olivia nods slowly and moves away with a fragile grace that makes my hands itch to reach for her again. I watch her ascend the stairs, each step she takes feels like a small torture, pulling at something deep inside me that yearns to follow, to protect—to possess.

Once she disappears from sight, the stillness of the cabin wraps around me like a straitjacket. I run a hand through my hand and glare down at my aching dick. I feel the sticky precum coating the inside of my jeans. I remember how soft and curvy her sexy body is, and I feel myself grow harder.

Fuck it.

I reach down and unzip my pants.

My hand wraps around my aching dick, the relief immediate but nowhere near enough to quell the raging desire she stirs within me.

I stroke slowly, images of Olivia seared into every movement, every breath that catches slightly in my throat. Her eyes, wide and innocent, yet filled with a raw need that mirrors my own.

I imagine those full tits of hers. Fuck, would she arch her back if I suckled them for her?

And that ripe, juicy pussy…bet she tastes like peaches and cream.

Those luscious globes of her ass…

Those hips that make a man want to plant himself deep inside her and knock her up like a man's supposed to do.

Fuuuck…that does it!

My release comes hard and fast, a guilt-laden pleasure that does nothing to ease the deeper hunger she's kindled within me.

I'm panting, back against the cold kitchen counter, feeling like the lowest sort of man. A protector?

Fuck, I'm what she needs protecting from.