Bad Nights by REBECCA YORK

over, then laid her down.
    She wrinkled her nose as she took in the animal scent of the cave. “Ugh.”
    â€œBetter than being cold and wet,” he answered, glad that she had noticed the lion smell. It meant that she was still reacting to her surroundings.
    He would have liked to clean up the cave for her, but there was no time for such niceties now. He had to make sure they were safe.
    Picking up the flashlight again, he walked farther back into the cavern, noting that the ceiling sloped lower as it angled into the cliff.
    He walked about sixty feet toward the back, seeing that other animals had used the shelter. Hopefully none of them were coming back anytime soon. He also saw a circle of stones and charred sticks. Other people had been in here, but not recently, he decided as he kicked at the ashes.
    The idea of lighting a fire was very tempting, but he knew it wasn’t a good idea. Not when the flames and smoke could lead Trainer and his men to the shelter. The cave went farther back. There might be another way out, but he wasn’t going to look for it now.
    When he came back to the cave entrance, Morgan’s eyes fluttered open and fixed on him.
    â€œWhere were you?” she whispered.
    â€œMaking sure we didn’t have any company.”
    Coming down beside her, he gave her a considering look. Her face was pale and wet with perspiration, and he knew she needed medical attention. Rummaging in the pack, he pulled out the first aid kit.
    â€œI’m going to take a look at your arm.”
    When Morgan nodded, he tried to push back the wet sleeve of her jacket to get to her wound. But it was too waterlogged and too bulky.
    â€œCan you take your jacket and shirt off?”
    When she didn’t respond, he unzipped the jacket before reaching for the buttons at the front of the shirt.
    Her eyes flew open and her hand stopped him as he began to ease the top button open.
    â€œWhat are you doing?’
    â€œI’ve got to look at that bite. I can’t do it with your shirt and jacket in the way.”
    She considered that. “Oh, right.”
    Her hand dropped back to her side.
    He worked the buttons as quickly as possible, then raised her shoulders up so that he could pull her good arm out of the shirt and jacket at the same time. Then he turned to the injured side. Carefully he peeled the fabric away from the mauled flesh, trying to keep his focus on her arm. But it was impossible not to notice the front of her body.
    She was wearing a light pink bra of some delicate fabric that was almost transparent from the water that had soaked through. He hadn’t looked at a woman’s breasts in a long time, and he didn’t want to do it now, but they were on display, and there was no way to keep himself from admiring her. Her breasts were medium-sized and nicely rounded. And he could clearly see the dark circles of her nipples through the fabric. The cold had puckered them so that they stabbed against the cups, drawing a response from him that he told himself he didn’t want and certainly didn’t need under the present circumstances. They were still in bad trouble. The only way they were going to get out alive was if he kept his focus on the mission—not on Morgan Rains’ breasts.
    He didn’t have a relationship with this woman. He didn’t want a relationship with her. Or anybody else, he silently added. Yet circumstances had thrown them together, making it impossible for him to ignore his reactions to her.
    Her shirt was stiff with blood and had stuck to her skin. He opened a water bottle and wet the fabric, peeling it away as gently as he could, but she groaned as the material came free.
    â€œSorry.”
    â€œNot your fault,” she answered.
    He spared another glance at her face. Her skin was still pale, but she seemed more alert than when he’d first started undressing her.
    That was good from a medical point of view, but not so good for the