Page 38 of Dangerous Games (Tempting SEALs 2)

She was warm and sweet, a bounty of passion and need that he knew he couldn't deny himself any longer.

Raising his head, he stared back at her, realizing his hands were gripping her soft hips, holding her in place where she sat sideways in the seat.

"Ready?" He stepped back, extending his hand to her.

"I'm ready." She slid from the seat, balancing her weight as she drew in a deep breath, her hand gripping his tightly for a moment. "A little shaky, but ready." Her smile was quick, nervous. Her eyes were still big for her pale face, though.

"Let's go then." He gripped her arm as he pulled her to him before slamming the truck door. He hit the automatic lock, then headed for the elevators. "There's a bathroom right as we get off the elevator in the reception area. Hide in there. There's no way to hide all that leather and that curvy little body. I'll get our room and come back for you."

She snorted. "And you think you're easier to forget?"

"There are plenty of dark-haired men in leather," he informed her. "Especially in this area. I have what I need to get the room in another name and hide us for a night or two until I can get this figured out. You, on the other hand ... every man breathing would notice that outfit. It's distinctive."

"Whatever." She shook her head as he escorted her into the elevator and hit the lobby button. "Just hurry, Clint, because I think I've about had it for the night."

She had been pushed to her limits; he could feel it. She needed to be fed, soothed, and eased into sleep. God help him, he prayed he could soothe her, but he was very much afraid that once he touched her, all bets were off. He was going to love her instead.

Chapter 10

SHE LOOKED LIKE HELL. Morganna dampene

d a soft cloth beneath the running water and washed the smudged makeup from her face before grimacing at her pale reflection. There was a scratch on her neck that she had no idea where it came from, a few fingerprint bruises off tier bare arms-only God knew if they'd come from Clint jerking her away from the assailant or the assailant himself.

She breathed in deeply. There hadn't been time to be terrified during the attack, but the moment Clint jerked her from the knife heading for her throat, it had set in.

The attack didn't make sense.

She braced her hands on the sink as she lowered her head and fought the weariness washing over her. Through her. Nothing about this operation was making sense now. Why would she be targeted now? And how had anyone learned she was even working the case? Only her commander, Joe's team, and now Clint knew that she was more than a secretary.

The job in the local law firm had gotten her through the Law Enforcement Academy, nothing else. No one had known what she was doing. Not even Raven had known until after the graduation.

It was apparent that someone else did know Morganna was working the case, though.

And what had the attacker said just before Clint came into the room? Something about divine retribution? What the hell was divine retribution?

Shaking her head, she dropped the cloth into the basket under the sink before washing her hands and forcing back the edge of shattered nerves pushing at her mind.

Adrenaline. She recognized it, though it was stronger now than it had ever been. Coming down from it was a pain in the ass.

She was shaking from head to toe, fine tremors more than shudders, a heightened awareness, as well as a heightened arousal. Now that one was different. The arousal was burning inside her, a flaming ache in the center of her sex that refused to be ignored.

"You've lost it, Chavez," she told herself as she lifted her head, staring back at her reflection. "You just can't learn your lesson, can you?"

She knew not to trust Clint. How many times in the past had he allowed her to hope, to dream, only to pull back?

But he had never promised her before.

Clint always kept his promises. He never broke his word. At the least, he wouldn't take this operation from her. The sense of accomplishment that filled her with was overwhelming.

"Morganna, are you okay?" Clint's voice was husky, soft, from the other side of the door.

"I'm fine." She drew in a deep breath before opening the door and coming face-to-face with him.

His expression was concerned, his eyes dark in his suntanned face, his big body tense as he towered over her.

"I have to get out of this leather." She moved past him and into the sitting room of the suite he had taken. "I hope you have something I can wear in that bag of tricks you carried up with you."

"I laid it on the bed," he drawled behind her. "I called room service. We'll have something up here to eat soon, then you can shower."

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