Page 47 of Dangerous Games (Tempting SEALs 2)

It was more than obvious her sweet rear had never been breached; she had never been taken with a hunger as deep as the one she inspired in him. Her eyes had been dazed, her face pale, but God, she had taken him. Growing wetter, hotter, clasping him inside her until he was certain he couldn't move, could do nothing but pump every ounce of his semen inside her rippling little channel.

Shaking his head, he jerked a washcloth from the side of the sink as he turned on the water with a vicious jerk. He dampened the cloth, wrung it out, and forced himself back to the bed.

He used the heated washrag to clean her gently, to first wash the uncomfortable perspiration from her neck, shoulders, breasts, belly, and back before he moved to her thighs. His semen marred the soft, flushed folds of her sex, slickened her thighs.

As he cleaned her, his throat tightened at the sight of it. He hadn't used protection. But he had never meant to with Morganna. He had been careful all his life; there was no chance of infecting her with anything but his own bitterness and no chance of pregnancy. He could live with his cock spilling inside her on an hourly basis, and she would never risk conceiving his child.

For the first time in years, the thought of it bothered him. He would never see her body ripen with his baby. But on the other hand, no child would ever suffer the hell he had known, either.

"Clint..." His name whispered past her lips as he pulled the blankets over her to protect her from the chill of the air conditioner.

She shifted on the mattress before settling in with a little sigh and sleeping again.

God, he couldn't do this.

He jerked a pair of jeans and underwear from his pack and stalked to the bathroom. He showered quickly, drying his body with rough, ruthless movements before dressing and heading back to the sitting room.

The small refrigerator held several hospitality bottles of liquor. He jerked them all out, uncapped the first, and tossed it back. Shit, he hated vodka.

Pulling his cell phone from its holder, he flipped it open and punched in Joe's number. The bastard better have some answers. He was getting sick of trying to figure out the impossible from this point.

"Hey, Clint." The other man's voice was weary as he answered the phone. "Are you secure?"

A frown darkened his brow. "Secure enough," Clint growled, the cell phone specially designed for secure conversations by a friend with a knack for electronics. "What's up?"

"Hell if I know," Joe snarled across the line. "Drage has closed down for the day and run off all his staff except his head of security. I suspect he's shifting camera angles. He's pretty pissed. Seems our perp knew the angle of the cameras."

"Masters knows about the operation?" His jaw clenched over the question.

"He came to us right after Morganna was assigned to the team," Joe admitted. "As far as we can find out, he's not involved, but we're keeping an eye on him. He's locked up tight this morning, though. He's not letting us in there until he's finished."

"Which tells me what, Joe?" Clint asked carefully, keeping his voice calm, neutral.

"Which tells you I don't know shit," Joe snapped back.

"It tells me you have a mole," Clint informed him, feeling the edge of violence pricking at his temper. "Who is it?"

"Not in my crew-"

"Don't be a fool," he advised Joe softly. "I'm not. Find your mole or I'm going to start looking for him, and you don't want me to have to do that with Morganna in tow. If I have to offend her sense of justice by killing a few DEA agents to get the right one, I'm going to be pissed off, Joe."

It wasn't a threat, and by the silence on the line he knew Joe was aware of that.

"There has to be more to this," Joe finally snapped. "If they wanted to take someone out, they would have started with me or Craig, not Morganna. Taking her out won't stop the operation."

"She spotted three of their men drugging one of the women there last week. This is revenge. And someone on the inside is helping them." If Joe couldn't get to the bottom of this, then he would. "You can send your female agent home. Morganna will be working with me."

A hard, hissing breath filled the line.

"If she's compromised, they might not try to hit her again."

"They won't stop,'' Clint snapped. "Pull in all your men except your tech and get them in the bar from here on out. Cover our asses. If anything happens to her, Joe, I'll kill you. You know that, don't you?"

"Agreed," Joe said, his voice rough, frustrated. "I'll pull the team together and we'll meet you tomorrow night-"

"I'll call you before we meet. You and Craig can meet with us, then brief the rest of your team. Now, what did you find at Morganna's house?"

"We found the knife. No prints, but it was manufactured in South America. Bogotá, to be exact. I'm trying to get a trace from other sources now, but it will take a while."

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