Page 54 of Dangerous Games (Tempting SEALs 2)

She rolled her eyes mockingly as she scooted to the side enough to click her seat belt and turn to him. "And how can you be so certain I've been safe?"

"Because you weren't raised to be stupid." His jaw bunched as his eyes stayed glued to the road.

She stared back at him, confusion nudging into anger.

"You can be certain of this how?" she asked. "Drop it, Morganna," he forced past tight lips. "I'll get an appointment with my doctor next week." She knew that expression on Clint's face. It was the one she usually saw when she learned that he or Reno had put the fear of death into a boyfriend.

"You're not pregnant, Morganna-"

"You can't be certain."

"I'm certain, dammit."

"Prove it."

"Because I had a fucking vasectomy five years ago. I can't get you pregnant."

Morganna stared back at him in shock. An angry snarl curled his lips as he glared over at her briefly, his blue eyes alive with anger.

"Satisfied?" he snapped when she had nothing else to say. A heavy weight settled in her chest as she stared at him. It wasn't just anger that filled his expression or his gaze. Shadows of bitterness, haunting demons swirled there, and Morganna realized she was only now seeing them for what they were.

What had happened? For whatever reason Clint had held himself back from her, this proved that it wasn't simply because she was a "party" girl. There was something deeper, some darker reason.

"For now," she whispered, turning back in her seat and staring ahead as Clint navigated the Sunday afternoon traffic toward Atlanta and the meeting with Joe.

What the hell had happened to him? Morganna frowned, wondering if Clint had always been this hard, this cold. Had it evolved? In ways it had, but she realized that as long as she had known him, she had realized there was a core of steel-hard strength, not just physical but mental. And there had always been shadows. They had drawn her when she was a child. Made her ache to comfort him the few times she had glimpsed the pain in his gaze.

He had hidden from everyone he had ever known, she thought. So effectively that she had never suspected that the man who had been so tender, so gentle, with others' children would never want one of his own.

Chapter 14

EVERY HEAD IN THE MAIN room of Diva's Downstairs turned when the elevator opened and Morganna stepped into the elaborately furnished room. There had to be fifty pairs of eyes suddenly trained on her, surveying her naked face, the short length of the leather skirt, and the collar at her neck.

The collar had surprised her. It wasn't the traditional leather or studded belt that many of the submissives wore, Clint had surprised her instead with an inch-wide silver choker chain that fitted her perfectly and showed up clearly against her dark skin. Hanging in the center of the chain was a small deep blue sapphire, almost the color of his eyes. A pendant to mark her as his alone.

They paused at a wide, curved dark wood reception counter where Morganna signed the confidentiality statement Clint had warned her would be waiting for her. The six-page agreement involved everything but her firstborn child if she dared divulge the activities seen, practiced, or heard of within what they called Diva's Downstairs, Merlin's Down Under, or the Roundtable Caverns. As Drage had stated before, he covered his ass well.

With his hand at her back, Clint led her into the plushly carpeted room. Moving with relaxed ease, he guided her across the room to a small group seated at the small end.

Drage Masters leaned back in his chair as he watched their progress, a small smile tilting his sensual lips as her gaze flickered over the men and women gathered there.

Good Lord, there was the senator's son. Aaron Hawkins. She had long heard rumors of his excessive tastes in sex, but she hadn't believed them. Beside him, Jayne Smith reclined back in a chair, her exotically tilted eyes following their progress. She wore no collar, which proclaimed her as a Domme rather than a submissive.

Morganna would have much preferred to make her debut here on her own terms, under her own control. Instead ... She glanced at the women sitting at the feet of their Doms. Jeez, that was going to suck.

She tensed as Clint moved to an empty chair, ignoring the warning flex of his fingers at her back. She wasn't a moron; she knew what she was supposed to do. Be submissive. She almost sighed at the thought. That was so not her.

"McIntyre." Drage nodded as Clint took his seat easily, tugging at her hand subtly until she managed to sink down gracefully to the floor at his feet.

With her legs bent, balancing carefully on one hip, she was able to maintain at least a semblance of decency as she did so. She was going to kill Clint when they left here for not warning her what she should expect.

She had expected something similar to the club upstairs. What she found instead was a sanctuary of control. The music was sedate, a soft murmur of classical tunes that throbbed with an undertone of sexual heat. Comfortable seating arrangements were scattered throughout the room, as well as what appeared to be card tables. On the far side was a well-stocked bar, and the waiters and waitresses wore leather and red leather collars with the word "Diva's" emblazoned into them.

The seating arrangement Clint had chosen was eight chairs grouped around a wide, low table. All the chairs were filled, with only Jayne Smith lacking a female companion at her feet. Instead, a heavily muscled male leaned against her chair, his handsome face filled with amusement as he glanced at Morganna.

This was too unreal. Jayne's sub was a very well-known member of society. Excessively wealthy, handsome, and considered one of the state's most sought after bachelors, Todd Harrington wasn't anyone's idea of a sub. Yet here he sat, dressed in black leather pants, his muscular chest bare, :he black leather band at his neck simple and understated but unmistakable with its small silver looped chain that hung from the side. Rather than a full leash or a gem, Jayne had marked her sub with a small, barely four-inch-long, chain.

Morganna's attention turned from the sub as she felt Clint's ringers threading lazily through her hair as he ordered himself a drink, then ordered her a water. Water?

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