ministrations. She unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the jacket of each arm in turn, followed by the sleeves of the collared shirt.
“Let’s get those pants of you.”
John chuckled. “Something a man always likes to hear.”
“Very funny, sailor, but I figure you’ll be more comfortable in sweats, especially if you get chills.”
“Roger that.”
She laid him down on the camping bag and worked his pants off. He shivered so hard his cock refused to salute her. He’d reprimand it later for that. In the meantime, she’d already stuffed his feet into a pair of new sweats. The soft fabric slid over his legs, bringing an odd sense of comfort and relaxation to his chilled skin.
“Lift your hips for me, John.” Lindsey’s hands against his hips and waistline thrilled him and comforted him all at once. And he wanted more.
“I have a t-shirt for you too, if you want it.”
John opened his eyes and tried to sit up. Lindsey grasped his hand and pulled him upright then handed him the long sleeved tee. He threw it over his head and shrugged it into place then settled back against the camping bag.
Lindsey reached over him and zipped it up, adding the quilt on top. “Snug as a bug in a rug. Sleep tight, John.” She laid a soft kiss on his forehead before retreating to the door of the room.
“Lindsey?”
She paused and looked back.
“Thanks for saving me this time. A SEAL’s only as good as his team, and you’re a damn fine teammate.”
“Thanks, John. If you need me, I’ll be right across the hall in the other room. Get some sleep.”
“Roger that.” He ended his words on a yawn and she chuckled before flipping off the light and pulling the door mostly closed.
John listened to her puttering around the cabin, but his exhaustion pulled him down into the warm and comforting darkness.
Chapter Eight
A roar ripped Lindsey out of sleep and had her scrambling for the floor. Holy fuck! What is that? Listening around her thundering heart proved problematic until another sound of fury tore through the quiet night. She leapt up and shot across the hall into John’s room.
The SEAL thrashed in his bed as if someone held him down and fury filled his expression as he tore at the bedclothes. Damn, he needed help, but she understood about nightmares and soldiers who’d experienced traumatic events. Getting close to him could be hazardous for her health.
Lindsey bit her lip and scanned the room. A small lamp sat on the bureau across from the bed and she switched it on. The soft light warmed the room without blinding her and she returned to the bed. Gotta get his attention without adding to the nightmare.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself down, Lindsey knelt on the floor far enough from the bed he wouldn’t hit her if he flailed. Gotta be calm, just like Mom was when Dad came back shell-shocked from Vietnam. Can’t believe I’m using this now.
“John, I’m here for you. It’s Lindsey. Can you hear me?”
She waited, hoping her voice would reach through to whatever hell he thrashed in. She didn’t dare touch him yet, not until she knew he recognized her. John froze in the bed, his breathing rough, but his body language cautious.
“I don’t know where you are right now, but physically your body is here with me at the safe house and you’re secure.” Lindsey kept her voice calm and even, praying she’d reach him. She wanted to wrap him in her arms and tell him everything was okay, but that hadn’t always worked with her father. “Are you reading me, Chief Petty Officer?”
Sometimes her mother had gotten through by using her father’s rank. The military training went deep and anchored soldiers in something familiar. Lindsey remembered the frightening times her father had lost it and how her mother had kept them all from panicking by staying calm. I owe you one, Mom. I promise to call and thank you when I get out of this undercover shit.
“Chief?”
“Roger that.” John’s breathless
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