Page 111 of Dangerous Games (Tempting SEALs 2)

"She pretends to be so caring," Morganna snarled. "She had the nerve to call here, to see if I knew where you were. Pretending to be worried because she hadn't heard from you." She swiped at the tear that fell from her eye. "I wanted to face her. I wanted to see the monster I knew she was."

"And what did you see?"

She looked away, her lower lip trembling.

"You didn't see a monster," he told her softly. "You just saw an old, very selfish woman. You saw something you couldn't fix."

Another tear tracked down her cheek.

"I love you, Morganna," he whispered. "I'm not hiding from that any longer. I'm not running anymore. I'm scared shitless, though; I'll tell you that right now. The thought of destroying that love, of destroying your belief in me, terrifies me."

He watched her swallow tightly as she gazed back at him, her face-becoming damper with her tears. He rose from the bed, unable to stand those tears, to bear the pain in her eyes.

Clint reached out to her, fighting the trembling in his hands as he clasped her face, his thumbs easing the dampness from her cheeks.

"I'll never leave you again," he swore, knowing that running was no longer an option. "You'll drive me c

razy, I'll go gray early, but I'll always love you, Morganna. With everything inside me, I'll love you ... and any children you allow me to father."

She gasped, a shudder working through her as her lips parted, the tears running faster.

"I love you." Her whispered sob ripped through his heart with a joy and a hope that filled every particle of his being. "Oh God, Clint, I love you."

Chapter 30

HE HAD SAID THE C-WORD. "Children." The L-word. "Love." Morganna felt the aching, desolate emptiness that had held her for the past five days ease from her body as Clint's lips covered hers.

The feel of his lips moving on hers, his tongue licking, teeth nipping, had her reaching for more, wishing she could crawl into his body and hold on to him forever.

"The clothes are coming off, Morganna," he growled a second before his hands moved, his fingers curling into the low neckline of the shirt and tearing it apart.

Buttons scattered as she felt him pulling her arms from his shoulders before he jerked the material from them.

"I should tie you down and cut those jeans off." His hands tore at the metal buttons. "But damn, they look good on you, baby. I might want to see you in them again sometime."

"I might let you." Morganna fought to pant for breath as Clint knelt in front of her, slowly drawing the jeans down her thighs, lifting one ankle, then the other until he was tossing the material away.

"You take my breath away." He laid his head against her stomach, his lips pressing against her skin, his tongue flickering against her belly ring, tasting her skin as she shuddered in his grip.

Calloused fingertips rotated against her outer thighs, smoothed over her flesh, sent razor-sharp explosions of need echoing through her womb. She could feel the pleasure racing through her nerve endings, his touch, heated, moving deeper than flesh alone as his fingers moved slowly closer to the aching center of her body.

"You're making my knees weak," she whispered breathlessly, her fingers clenching in his shoulders as the slow-building burn began to encompass her body.

Morganna could feel the heated slide of dampness from her vagina, the swollen nub of her clitoris, her nipples sensitizing. Each touch of his fingertips, each slow, sensual drag drawing closer to the small triangle of silk covering her sex, had the veil of sensuality thickening around her.

She could feel the perspiration gathering on her body, between her breasts. Each panting breath rasped her nipples against the delicate lace of her bra; each suspended moment brought Clint closer to his goal.

"You bewitch me," he breathed against the moist silk between her thighs, sending shards of incredible pleasure to tear through her body.

"Clint." Whether her whispered plea was a protest or a whimper for more, she couldn't say.

His hand moved, his fingertips rasping against the silk covering the swollen folds of her sex as she shivered before him. The other moved to her rear, curving beneath a rounded buttock in support.

"You smell like summer." He nuzzled his lips against the damp material as a broken cry fell from her lips. She was shaking in need; perched on the edge of an arousal so intense she wasn't certain she could survive it.

"I love your touch," she panted. "Your hands, your lips ..." She was almost sobbing with the need for more, the need to feel him against her, surrounding her, penetrating her.

"Ah, baby, no more than I love touching." He drew the silk aside before giving the slick flesh a long, loving lick, drawing her moisture to him, feasting on the taste of her.

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