by Lora Leigh
She watched his eyes widen at her response.
"There is where you are so wrong." This was more nerve-wracking than being shot at. Clint looked ready to commit murder.
"Oh my God, you have so lost it." She pushed at his chest; unfortunately, it was like shoving at a boulder. "Who the hell do you think you are? What I do is none of your business. And how do you know the bastard playing with guns wasn't after you? I could see someone wanting to kill you. I fantasize about it often." She glared back at him, anger surging through her system.
"Answers, Morganna. Now."
She hated it when he got like this. When he decided he was the law, that she was answerable to him just because that was what he decided.
"I have no answers for you, Clint. Even if you did deserve them. Which you don't." She kept her voice low, despite her anger, despite the fact that she had intended to attempt to explain things to him earlier. The look on his face assured her that no explanations were going to help. There was the potential of making things worse.
She lifted her chin defiantly, refusing to back down, even as she refused to admit that his rage sparked more than just her answering anger.
But it wasn't just rage. For the first time, she saw emotion. It shadowed his eyes, roughened his voice, and she had to tamp back the hope flaring inside her at the evidence that somehow he might very well care for her.
"Why doesn't this surprise me?" he shouted to no one in particular as he jerked away from her, his dark glower causing her to watch him with wary suspicion. "Why, Morganna, doesn't it surprise me that you're doing something stupid?"
"Stupid?" She stared back at him incredulously. "Excuse me, Clint? What do you do for a living here? I was just having a good night at a nice little club. Honestly, I'm beginning to suspect that car was after you. What did you do, manhandle the wrong woman?"
He snarled as he cast her a fulminating look, his eyes burning with anger. "I knew you were up to something. I told Reno last year you were up to something. You've been acting sneaky as hell for years now."
"You are so paranoid." She jutted her hip and braced her hand on the bare flesh with a mocking laugh. "Really. Just because I'm not chasing after you day and night anymore doesn't mean I'm up to something."
God was going to get her for that lie. The day she had stopped watching the door for him, had decided to get a life, it was as though he had known. But instead of accepting what she felt for him, he had automatically assumed she was up to something.
And perhaps she was. She had a life. A productive one.
One that gave her" purpose.
He turned on her, crossing his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes as they went over her body. And she didn't look bad; she knew she didn't. She had worked hard over the last four years to make certain her body was in peak shape, that the clothes she wore enhanced her figure, and that the makeup enhanced her role. Though she was pretty certain the makeup had worn off when he'd pushed her face into the truck seat earlier.
"What were you doing at Diva's?" he demanded. "Dressed like that and flashing your body to every damned pervert there? And don't lie to me, Morganna. I have friends there. I'll find out the truth."
Now why didn't that surprise her?
"So asks the man that owns his own private room," she snorted. "Clint, I know exactly how much those rooms cost per year. And it's more than obvious you use it. Does that make you a pervert as well?" She arched her brow mockingly.
"The worst kind."
Her breath slammed from her throat as his gaze became more intent, touching over the flesh bared by her clothing, reminding her of his touch, the dominance in his kiss.
"Well, at least you're honest," she breathed out. "Now, if you'll be so kind as to call me a cab ..."
"Explain the receiver." Cold fury filled his lowered voice. He was no longer pissed; now he was dangerous.
She arched her brow.
"I'll track it to the other side, Morganna. I'll find out who's on the other end and I'll start by questioning that leather-toting Dom wannabe first. You want to see his pretty face messed up?"
Could Craig take him in a fight? Morganna knew in a heartbeat he couldn't. Clint had nearly killed him in the hallway earlier.
She lifted her chin defiantly.
"I don't owe you explanations, Clint. I don't owe you anything. Now I'm ready to go home."
"Now isn't that just too bad," he drawled, his expression shifting, lust mixing with the anger as he continued to watch her. "You know, Morganna, I have that room there for a reason. I don't know who you think you're playing with, but it's not a fake Dom willing to let you play your little games. Is that what you were hoping for? That this game you're playing would get you into my bed?"
No. She didn't. But the subdued throb of arousal in his voice had her sex clenching in response, her juices gathering, weeping from her aching vagina.
This was a part of Clint she had never seen before. A part that filled her with trepidation and excitement.
"And who says I'm going to end up in your bed?" She tried to forget how much she wanted to be there.
Every cell in her body was throbbing in need. She remembered his kiss. One brief, possessive melding of lips when she had been eighteen and he was twenty-seven. His hands had held her to him, his lips had possessed her, and she had never forgotten it. Now, ten years later, she still remembered. She wanted his lips on her again, anywhere, everywhere.
"Oh, you're going to end up there," he assured her smoothly. Morganna swallowed tightly.
"Why now?" She had ached for him for years. Done everything she could think of to make him see her, make him want her. And now, when she had given up, he wanted to play sex games. Talk about lousy damned timing.
The tight smile that creased his lips wasn't comforting.
"If I had known the games you liked, Morganna, I wouldn't have denied myself. The submissive scene doesn't cater to happily ever afters, does it, baby? Maybe you're not the starry-eyed little dreamer I thought you were. There's no room in my life for dreamers. Just the sex. And that I can give you plenty of."
Her heart wasn't breaking, Morganna assured herself as she stared back at him. The pain splintering her soul wasn't the result of the cold, unemotional declaration he had just made.
"And you think all I want is the sex?" she asked him, fighting to cover her pain as she watched him with a bitterness -he knew she couldn't hide.
For a moment, compassion flashed in his eyes.
"You're young," he said. "You think the nasty little games you're involved in have something to do with your heart? That hunger inside you is a search for love? It's not." He dropped his arms from his chest and paced closer, wrapping her in his warmth and his own bitterness. "Don't make that mistake," he whispered as he moved behind her, his chest pressing against her back as he lifted his hands to draw her hair back from her neck.
"Forget it." She jerked from him again, pacing several feet away from him before turning back to face him. "It doesn't work that way, Clint. If you didn't notice earlier, I already have a lover. Why would I need you?"
Craig wasn't her lover. It was a role they played, nothing more.
Clint laughed at her declaration. "He's never touched you." He shook his head knowingly. "He's never tied you down and driven you crazy with his touch. He's never spanked that tight little ass or fucked it. I'd bet my life on it."
Morganna felt her face flame, first with embarrassment, then with a need that bordered on violence. The image of her strapped to the bed in that room as Clint did all those things to her had her nearly climaxing in anticipation.
"God, your nipples just spiked beneath that shirt you're wearing," he said, staring. "You want it, baby. And you'll get it. But I'll get what I want first."
"Not in this lifetime," she snapped, turning and heading for the door. "Take your threats and shove them-"
She made it to the door; her hand even gripped the knob a second before a hard, forceful body pinned her again
st the metal panel. Her breath slammed from her chest at the feel of his erection pressing into her lower back, the sound of his breathing, hard and rough at her ear.
"You think you're just going to walk out of here?" His hands gripped her wrists, forcing them above her head until he could grip both with his long fingers.
"Stop this, Clint."
"Not on your life, Morganna," his voice rumbled at her ear a second before his teeth gripped the lobe with a heated little nip.
What his teeth were doing was nothing compared to where his other hand had moved. To her thigh. He was pushing her skirt above her legs, his palm sliding over sensitive flesh until it cupped the hot, damp core weeping with need.
"Damn, you're soaking wet." His voice was almost a groan as she whimpered, pressing her head into the door and fighting for control. "You like to push me, don't you? How many years have you been doing this, Morganna? Pushing me, growing wet and hot every time we've fought? Almost as wet as I am hard. You've been making my dick hard for nearly ten years now."
His fingers were burrowing beneath the elastic of her panties, uncaring when it snapped from the force. Morganna didn't care, either. Using one foot between hers, he forced her legs wider as his fingers moved to the saturated folds of flesh he found there.
Bare, smooth, recently waxed, every sensitive cell of her flesh shouted in pleasure as his fingers ran through the narrow slit, circled her swollen clit, then slid back to the aching entrance of her vagina.
She arched against him, frantic now as pleasure seared her nerve endings. It would take so little to bring release, a release that she knew for a while would ease the aching knot of hunger that burned for him.
"So sweet and hot," he whispered, his mouth moving to the sensitive cord- of her neck as his fingers massaged the small opening, encouraging the wet heat to flow harder from her core. "I bet you could come so easy for me, couldn't you, baby? One hard thrust inside that tight little pussy and you'd explode like the Fourth of July. Do you want to explode, sweetheart?"
She did. Oh God, she did. She needed to. If she didn't, she was going to die. She panted in anticipation as she felt his fingers move again, felt the touch of not one fingertip against her entrance but two. Oh yes, she was going to come so hard. Just one thrust. One hard, searing thrust and the hunger would be quenched.
But he didn't thrust hard. He eased in. Morganna heard her own shattered cry as she felt the slow, heated stretching of her pussy, felt his fingers working into her with practiced, diabolical skill.
"God, you feel like silk. Hot, slick silk, Morganna."
He continued to ease inside, filling her, burning her, driving the heat higher, hotter, but never stilling the flames.
"Please ..." She couldn't still the weak plea as he filled her, felt his fingers crooking a second before he began to rub that spot she could never seem to effectively manipulate.
But he was. With just the calloused pad of his fingertip he was sending blistering shards of nearing rapture to shoot through her nerve endings.
"You're so close, Morganna," he whispered. "I'm going to have you in my bed, those pretty thighs spread and my cock stretching you more."
His fingers were wicked. Carnal. Destructive.
He slid them back, nearly pulling free before he moved inside her again. The same steady, slow entrance, the same diabolical caress when they reached the depths of her vagina.
She was shaking, shuddering with need now. Lust was a demon devouring her mind, the need to orgasm so pervasive, so imperative, now that she knew she was fighting a losing battle.
"I can feel you rippling around my fingers, milking them. Wouldn't it feel so good, Morganna? Climaxing for me? Filling my hand with your sweet warmth?"
"Not fair... ." She was reaching blindly for that release, so close, so desperate for it that she felt as though she would shatter without it.
"No. Not fair is seeing you nearly run down by that car." Rage filled his voice as his body pressed her harder into the door. "Not fair is feeling those bullets pelt around you, knowing you could die." His fingers jerked inside her, as though he couldn't resist thrusting, just a little, almost enough.
Enough to have her crying out, arching to her tiptoes, then falling back, fighting desperately to find that final sensation needed to pitch her over the edge.
"You almost died in front of my eyes, damn you," he snarled before his teeth raked over her neck, his fingers flexing inside her. "For God's sake, Morganna, why?"
She opened her mouth to speak, to spill every secret she had been trusted with. The information couldn't be bought, but, oh God, it could be had. As she was drawing in the breath to confide every morsel of information, a hard knock vibrated against her cheek with enough force to shock her.
Clint stilled behind her as the knock came again, harder this time.
"If that's your leather-clad Lothario, I'm going to kill him."
She whimpered as Clint's fingers slid from the aching depths of her pussy and he pulled her back as he stepped aside. He didn't give her time to recover, didn't give her the option to leave the room. He looked through the peephole as he released Morganna, pushing her slowly behind him as she stumbled, fighting to regain her balance, cursed, then swung the door open to face the four plainclothes DEA agents she worked with.
Joe Merino was no one's fool. She saw the knowledge of what had been going on behind the door narrow his eyes as Craig's muttered curse echoed behind him.
Joe flipped open the small wallet that carried his badge and identification. The DEA seal was clear, as were the others who stood around him.
"Clint, we need to talk." Joe's gaze flickered to Morganna before a tight smile curved his rough face. "If you don't mind."
"Well, well, well," Clint drawled, glancing at her over his shoulder. "It looks like your cavalry is here. Do you think they'll have my answers?"
CLINT WAS MORE FURIOUS THAN he could remember ever being in his life. And there were times he had been damned mad. It wasn't bad enough that he had learned the innocence that shone so bright in her eyes was false. No woman who embraced the submissive lifestyle could claim the degree of sexual innocence he had fooled himself into believing he saw within Morganna.
But added to that was the knowledge that she had managed to get herself tangled into a web so dangerous, it made his guts cramp in fear. Son of a bitch, he was going to kill Merino. If it was the last thing he managed to do in his life, the man was dead.
After the four men moved into the room, Clint gripped the side of the door and slammed it closed with a force that had Morganna flinching in surprise. His gaze sliced to her wide gray eyes, his jaw bunching with the effort not to put his arms around her, to hold her to him. To know she was safe.
"Buy insurance, Merino," he growled as he turned from Morganna. "Good insurance. You don't want your family to be out too much when they have to bury you."
Joe Merino's mobile lips kicked up in a cool grin as his brown eyes gleamed with wary amusement. "Come on, Clint; chill out, man. I had no idea she belonged to you." He flashed, Morganna a chastising look.
"Oh God, does this sound like a trashy novel or what?" Morganna piped up, her voice filled with disgust.
"I want to hear the explanations. I'm going to assume you're working on the date rape case, and pray I'm wrong, because if I'm not, there's going to be hell to pay once Reno finds out," Clint ordered tersely
"Tattletale," she grumbled.
He ignored her, merely staring back at Merino with narrowed eyes.
Joe shook his head mockingly as he stared back at Morganna. "Does your family even know what you do?" he finally asked her.
She pressed her lips tightly together.
Hell no, they didn't.
Joe sighed. "She's a DEA agent, Clint. One of the best rookies we have. I don't know where that attack came from tonight, or who's behind it, but this is Morganna's first case and she hasn't had time to draw that kind of notice yet."
"It was probably a hi
t against him," Morganna said. "I keep telling him he's going to piss off the wrong person."
"You set her up as bait," Clint said, continuing to ignore her. Right now, it was his safest bet.
He couldn't believe it. Morganna working with the DEA? That wasn't possible. She couldn't pull something like that off without Reno's knowledge. And sure to God, Reno would have told him.
She couldn't be doing this. She was too soft, too fragile. A man protected women like her; he didn't allow them to be drawn into the middle of a nightmare.
"We're investigating the hit," Merino sighed as he pushed his hands into his slacks pockets and stared back at Clint consideringly. "I'm here out of consideration to you. Because I respect you. But Morganna is an agent with this force, Clint. I can't have you jerking her out of the arena every chance you get."
Joe Merino was one tough son of a bitch, despite the designer clothes he wore. He had resigned his commission with the SEALs five years before, after his wife's death, and gone to work with; the DEA instead. He was snake-mean when dealing with criminals and not much nicer when dealing with friendlies.
But he was a damned good agent, and Clint had once believed his judgment to be sound. Pulling Morganna in on this was not sound judgment. Because he should have known that even if Reno didn't kill him, Clint would. Agent or no agent, this was no place for Morganna.
He turned to Morganna, barely restraining the agonizing fear for her as she stared back at him. It tightened every muscle in his body and left him struggling to pull enough oxygen into his lungs to breathe.
She was deliberately risking her life. She was risking his sanity, his very survival, with this madness.
"You didn't tell me? Did Raven know?" He was surprised at the hurt that clenched his chest at the thought.
"Raven only knew that I was back in school until my actual graduation. Reno still doesn't know any differently," she finally revealed. "Come on, Clint, I didn't want to be jerked out before I even had a chance to graduate from the Law Enforcement Academy."