“Get off me! No! No!”

Her screams fill the small cabin, and I shoot off the couch and grab my gun from the coffee table. Medically she doesn’t need round-the-clock supervision anymore, so I decided to sleep in the living room and give her some space. After what we discussed over breakfast, I thought it was best.

Space between us is good.

It allowed me to think clearly. Of what needs to be done, like how I have to get my ass to the nearest home improvement store and buy the supplies I need to fix the heater. I also spent the time wondering if I may or may not have a murderer sleeping under my roof.

“No, no!”

I run into her bedroom, completely prepared to shoot whoever dared to enter my home, when I find her clawing and ripping at her clothes. The hallway light bleeds into the room, permitting me to see that she is completely alone and frantically swiping something off her clothes. Her eyes are open and crazed.

“Get them off me, Griffin. Help me! Help!” she screams.

I put the gun down, flick on the light and watch her yank off her pants. She must be desperate because she isn’t wearing any underwear and she doesn’t seem to care that I am getting an unimpeded view of her pussy. She continues to scratch at her legs, barely missing the bandage covering her stitches. I sit on the bed, grab her hands and still them in mine. “It’s okay, I got you. Nothing can hurt you.” Her eyes have been open this entire time, but now she is looking at me, not through me, like before. “I think you were having a nightmare.”

“Spiders,” she says, breathless. She looks at her bare legs, most likely not fully convinced that her bed isn’t infested with eight-legged creatures. “Hundreds of them.” Her hands tremble in mine. “Am I going out of my mind?” she asks, her eyes wide and pooling with tears. Not only has she lost all her memories, but now she thinks she’s going crazy. Against my better judgement, I take her in my arms and let her cry into my chest. After a few minutes, her body grows exhausted and I lower her into bed. I am just about to get up when she grips my forearm. “Please don’t leave.”

I search her eyes and see true fear there. I know I shouldn’t, but I find myself crawling into bed and positioning her so her back rests against my bare chest. I’m wearing lounge pants, but I intentionally situate myself so my cock isn’t flush against her.

“I’m scared, Griffin.”

Somehow, I know that it takes a lot for her to admit this, especially to a total stranger. I get the sense that she isn’t used to letting her guard down. “I know. And we’ll figure it out. Together,” I say.

She sighs and then shifts, causing her naked body from the waist down to mold to mine. I resist pulling her closer, locking her in my arms. I pretend that it’s because I don’t want her to feel trapped, especially after having such a horrible nightmare. That I’m not spooning her properly because, although she is scared and doesn’t want to be alone, she needs to feel in control and not confined. These are the lies I tell myself as I lay there, my cock aching. Her breathing becomes steady, and I know she has drifted off to sleep. I contemplate peeling her off me and sneaking out of bed, but I don’t in fear that if she has another nightmare, I won’t be here for her. So, I decide to suffer in silence with the most painful hard-on in recent memory.

***

?

I may not know my name, but I am fairly certain that sleeping in a man’s arms isn’t a daily event for me. Because if I do have a boyfriend or a husband, wouldn’t my subconscious tell me that I should feel guilty, that I shouldn’t love how protected I feel in Griffin’s embrace?

The fire is about to die, which isn’t good since the heater is on the fritz. Griffin must have gotten up a few times during the night to throw some logs on to keep it going. Which means that he left me to tend to the fire just to crawl back in and sort of spoon me. He could have done anything while I was in that state. Killed me in my sleep, violated me in multiple ways. Is it common for me to trust someone so completely?

No, says a small but crystal-clear voice in my head.

The knowledge that I don’t trust easily sobers me. Do I have a rough past? Was I wronged somewhere along the line? Those are the questions I am asking myself when I try to creep out of bed to feed the fire. But my movements only make him wrap his arms around me and press me against his muscular chest. I can feel his warm breath brush against my neck with each rhythmic exhale. My skin goosepimples as heat rushes to my core. It is then I remember that I am lying with this man wearing just his t-shirt and no underwear. I ripped my pants off last night while I was in the throes of a nightmare. It was so vivid, so real that I actually felt hundreds of tiny, hairy legs tickle my skin as those spiders swarmed my bed.

My bare ass brushes against something hard and I freeze. I don’t need my memories to know what it is. Griffin’s arms retract, and he scoots away from me. “Sorry. It’s…uh…been awhile,” he says. He flings his legs over the side of the bed and stands. I can’t help but look at the tent in his pants. He follows my gaze. “I promise I can control myself. It’s just while asleep it seems to have a mind of its own,” he says, his lips curling to form a boyish smile. He looks embarrassed, and I am surprised at the rare grin he is giving me.

Even now with his cock straining against his pants, begging to spring free, I’m not worried that he will attack me. But I am nervous at what he may see in my eyes if he keeps staring at me. I look away and pull the blanket closer to me.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“A little,” I say. “I was going to throw another log on the fire.”

Griffin goes to the fireplace and places a log on top. He looks incredible squatting there, barefoot in just his pajama bottoms, his hair messy from sleep. Griffin takes the poker and stokes the fire until it is roaring once again. Satisfied, he returns the poker to the holder and then sits at the edge of my bed. He is still sporting a hard-on. Again, I try not to stare.

“How are you feeling today?” he asks.

Turned on, aroused as fuck.

My thighs clench beneath my blanket and I discover that I’m wet. Thank God he can’t see that. “I feel a lot better. My head still hurts a little, but that’s normal, right?”

“As long as it’s not getting worse, a slight headache is normal. I’ll get you some aspirin for the pain.”

I expect him to get up and retrieve the medicine, but he doesn’t. He just sits there, his arms resting on his thighs and blocking my view of his erection.

“Do you think you’ll be okay while I run to the store? I need to pick up a few things, the part to the heater being one of them. Snow is in the forecast and we can’t rely on the two fireplaces to keep us warm.”

I know what else can keep us warm.

As if reading my dirty, messed-up mind, his eyes darken and he clears his throat.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

He stands, gives me a curt nod and leaves the room. I’m all set to follow him when he returns with my medicine and a handgun. He sets the medicine on the nightstand and then sits next to me on the bed. “I’m leaving my gun with you,” he says. “To make sure the safety is off, you switch this over,” he instructs, flicking his thumb. “Then you just aim and pull the trigger.” He hands me the gun, but I can’t dismiss what looks like apprehension in his gaze. He isn’t entirely comfortable with me having a weapon. Does he think I’m going to accidentally shoot myself? Or him? The cool metal feels foreign in my hands. Nothing seems familiar which makes me think that I have never handled a gun before. I take that as a good thing. “I won’t be long, but I’ll leave you my phone. If you need anything, you can call Trent. His name is under my contacts.”

His tone is all business again, making me miss the man I woke up with, the guy who smiled sheepishly and had massive morning wood. I look down and discover he is still hard. How long can it stay that way? Is it still morning wood, or is he legitimately aroused? And that’s when I recall what he said.

It’s been awhile.

Awhile since what? Since he slept next to a woman? Since he had sex? I can’t imagine him having trouble finding women. Griffin is rugged and beautiful and so goddamn sexy. My eyes are fixed at his groin when I feel two fingers lift my chin. Blood rushes to my face.

“Do you need something?” he asks with a smirk.

I can’t speak. I can barely breathe. His eyes drift to my mouth and I see his pupils dilate. That naughty smile of his fades before my eyes and his fingers fall away. Griffin takes the gun from my hands and sets it on the nightstand.

“I was planning on picking you up some clothes and shoes from the store. Is there anything else that you need?”

“Um…no. Thank you,” I manage to get out.

“There’s fruit in the fridge and cereal and oatmeal in the pantry if you’re hungry.”

“Oh…yeah. Thanks,” I say, holding the comforter to my chest.

Griffin glances at my breasts and quickly looks away. “Okay…I’ll be back soon.”

I barely manage a nod before he is rushing out of the room and slamming the door behind him.