Page 32 of Dangerous Games (Tempting SEALs 2)

BEFORE MORGANNA COULD FIGHT, SHE WAS OVER Clint's shoulder. "Damn you, Clint McIntyre," she screamed out in rage as he stalked from the office.

She kicked against his hold, her fists beating at his back until a hard hand landed on her ass.

"This is getting so old." She bucked, trying to break his hold again, only to scream in outrage when his hand landed against her behind again.

She braced her hands on his lower back, attempting to get a view of the room. Where the hell was Clete when you needed him?

Clint shifted his shoulders, breaking her position as she bounced in his hold, screaming in outrage.

She slapped his ass back with both hands. He didn't so much as flinch, but she did. The hand that landed on her own butt burned. Right to her pussy.

Morganna let out a scream of pure frustration and anger as cool air met her back end and the doors swished closed behind them.

He moved in a hard, ground-eating stride, obviously ignoring her as he headed for the parking lot. Within seconds they were at his truck and she was bouncing into the seat.

As she moved to throw herself back out the door, his hands gripped her shoulders, slamming her back.

She stared at him in shock. It didn't hurt, but the restrained fury in the movement sent her heart racing, her eyes widening, as she stared back at him. "If you move, you're fucked. Right here. Right now. In front of God and everyone. Do you understand me?" His voice throbbed with power; his eyes blazed with anger.

Morganna swallowed tightly before nodding. There were times when you just didn't defy Clint. This was the ultimate of those times.

He moved back, slammed the door with enough force to rock the truck, then stalked to the other side and climbed in himself.

The vehicle peeled out of the parking lot, leaving rubber behind as Morganna fought to buckle her seat belt and waited for the

coming explosion. There was no doubt he was going to yell. Clint was always yelling when he got pissed.

When he didn't say a word, not a single word, in five nerve-wracking minutes, she risked a glance toward him. He was gripping the steering wheel with both hands, his eyes staring straight ahead, his expression forbidding.

So why wasn't he yelling?

"Pulling me out doesn't change anything."

"Open your mouth again and I swear to God I'll strap a ball gag between your lips."

Morganna flinched. God, she had never heard his voice like that. Low, brutal. Brooking absolutely no refusal.

"Gagging me won't change anything," she pointed out reasonably. "I'm not a child you can order around, Clint."

He didn't speak. His hands tightened on the wheel until she wondered if it would snap beneath the pressure.

"I'm twenty-six years old," she continued softly. "You don't have the right to do this. None of it. You should have worked with me-"

She breathed in roughly as the truck executed a hard turn, pulling into a deserted office parking lot on what she swore was two wheels.

Clint didn't speak. She had no warning before his seat belt was released, then hers. Her first sign that he had finally lost control came when he tangled his hand in her hair, jerked her to him, and slanted his lips over hers.

Morganna fought the grip, fought his kiss, for all of a second. Maybe. His lips were hard and burning, his tongue pressing between her lips, licking at her before his teeth nipped demandingly and he growled. A full-throated, wicked, carnal sound of hunger.

Morganna's lips opened to him, her hands sinking into his hair as he pulled her closer, then lowered her until her back met the wide seat.

Bench seats. You had to love them.

Then anything else she could have thought was wiped away. Clint's kiss changed; it stripped her mind, filled her senses, and stole reason. He devoured her lips, sipped at them, sank into them, his tongue thrusting past them, tangling with hers as she whimpered into the kiss.

Pleasure tore through her as heat wrapped around her senses. His lips were like velvet, rasping and demanding, his tongue carnal, tasting her as his lips ate at hers.

She was consumed by him. Every nerve ending in her body felt the possession and reveled in it. Clenching her hands in his hair, she arched closer, pressing her leather-clad breasts into his chest, whimpering with the need to feel his flesh against hers. Her nipples rasping against the coarse hair on his chest.

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