Page 34 of Dangerous Games (Tempting SEALs 2)

The stoic expression of the officer creased into an apologetic smile for a moment.

"We're heading out, Zack," Clint breathed roughly, pushing his fingers through his hair as he slanted the officer a wry smile. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Understandable." Zane nodded, glancing at Morganna as she ducked her head. "Just thought I'd check and make sure everything was okay. I heard about the shooting at Diva's last night."

Clint nodded abruptly. "You're right; this was real dumb." He glanced at Morganna, but his gaze wasn't angry now; it was ... perplexed maybe. "She goes to a man's head."

"So I see," Zane chuckled. "See you around, Clint, and take care."

"Yeah. I'll do that," Clint grumbled as he hit the electronic lever that raised the window.

Morganna was still fighting to breathe, to pull her emotions and her senses together, when Clint put the truck in gear and pulled out of the parking lot, back into the traffic as she moved to fasten her pants.

He didn't have to warn her to keep her mouth shut now; she didn't think she could form a coherent thought, let alone produce speech.

What was she going to do about Clint? Her body awakened to him with nothing but a look, and what his kisses did to her should be illegal. It probably was illegal.

She stared through the windshield until he took the turn leading to her house, rather than his apartment. She breathed in slowly, pulling herself together, pushing back the pain she could feel clawing through her.

She had a feeling he had no intention of joining her in her bed. It was a repeat of that morning, except for the orgasm. She would definitely be left wanting tonight.

"We need to talk." The anger wasn't there, only the aching well of sadness she had sometimes glimpsed in him.

"We tried that this morning. It didn't work." Wrapping her arms over her chest did nothing to soothe the aching void inside her. "Besides, Clint, you don't talk; you order, demand, or command. When that doesn't work, you tattle. Why should we break the habit now?"

"God, Morganna, you have no idea what you're getting mixed up in." He sighed, the weariness in his voice pricking her conscience. She knew he had slept in his truck the night before and that couldn't have been restful.

"I can't sit on a shelf and wait for you and Reno to decide to take me down for a visit," she whispered, swallowing tightly. Emptiness stretched ahead of her, years alone, if she didn't do something to change it. And God knew she was so tired of being alone.

"What happened to marriage? Children?" he bit out, his voice rough. "Morganna, what you're doing will get you killed."

"Are you proposing?" she asked as he pulled in front of her house.

"This isn't a joking matter." He jerked his head around, staring at her as he put the truck into park.

"No, it isn't." She shook her head dismally. "Because it wouldn't matter if you were proposing, Clint. I've found what I want to do." She stared back at him directly. "I found some-thing I believe in. Something that gives me purpose. I won't give that up for you. And it wouldn't work if I did. Because, quite honestly, you don't want me, not really. It wouldn't matter if you were fucking me or that redhead tonight. We would both be the same in your eyes. And I need more from a lover than that."

"And you think Drage Masters is going to give you more?" Clint asked in astonishment. "Do you think you can sell your soul to the devil and walk away later, Morganna?"

"Then rescind your request that I be barred from the clubs," she said gently. She wasn't angry any longer. She was tired. Tired of loving a man who didn't need her. Who didn't truly want her. "Don't take this away from me, Clint. I've worked too hard and too long. Don't force me to choose like this."

"You'd play the whore for him?" He frowned back at her, his expression heavy, set.

"I have to find a life, Clint. A lover. Someone who sees something in me other than his best friend's sister or a responsibility he can't run away from this time," she pointed out, aching inside. "I love you. I've always loved you. For as long as I can remember. But I can't continue to wait on a man who doesn't even respect me enough to work with me. A man willing to steal years of my life for his own selfishness. I've worked for this assignment. I trained for it. And you pushed me out as though what I want, what I need, doesn't even matter."

He said nothing in his defense, no explanation, no denial. The pain of it ate at her heart as the years she had wasted stretched out behind her.

"Good-bye, Clint," she whispered. "Just say good-bye. I don't need a babysitter; I need a lover who's willing to care. Drage might not love me, but he's willing to put effort into some part of me. That's more than you've ever done."

She gripped the latch, pulling it toward her to open her door, when Clint caught her arm. Drawing in a deep breath, she turned back to stare at him.

His eyes blazed from his face, his expression torn and, for the first time, reflecting the conflicting emotions she had always felt raged inside him. Emotions she would have jumped with joy to have seen in the years past. Now it was just too little too late. Clint couldn't change who he was; somehow she had always known that, always sensed it. She had kept their confrontations light, kept from pushing too hard, because of that instinctive knowledge.

She couldn't fight it anymore, though. She couldn't fight him.

"I care...." The words seemed torn from him. They ripped through her chest, tore at her heart with slicing, agonizing blows.

Lifting her hand, she touched his cheek. The growth of beard was sensually rough beneath her fingertips, sending an aching hunger to pulse through every cell of her body.

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