Page 90 of Dangerous Games (Tempting SEALs 2)

When the song finally came to an end, he found himself breathing in deep, relief warring with driving lust. The song might have changed, but Morganna's energy hadn't Her love for the music was clear on her expressive face; her joy in the movement, in tempting him, making him crazy, was even more evident.

His fingers tightened around the drink sitting on the table before him as he lifted it to his lips and consumed the liquor he had ordered. Pure, raw Jack burned its way down his esophagus as he fought back the lust.

He was here to do a job, not to pant after that damned wild cat he couldn't seem to get enough of. He could barely keep the sweat of pure driving lust out of his eyes enough to do that.

Clint grimaced at the thought. He knew she was dangerous to his self-control and mental health years before. He'd had no idea how true that was until now.

"Clint, I hear you snagged our girl's apprenticeship." Timothy Wagner, the stocky Dom sitting across the table from him lifted his drink as though in congratulations. "There are a lot of jealous men watching tonight, my friend."

Clint let his lips quirk into a facsimile of an amused grin. Truth be told, he wanted to rip Wagner's face off.

"She's a joy on the dance floor," Timothy called out again, "Watching her is better than foreplay."

Better than foreplay? Clint stared back at Timothy broodingly before dragging his gaze back to Morganna. She had retreated farther within the circle of dancers, obviously talking with Jenna and the young man, Sandy, as they all danced. The other woman had a less sophisticated style of dance. More gyration than flow with an explicit grinding of hips that did little for Clint. Morganna was like water, though, all smooth moves and swaying desire.

His cock throbbed at the memory of holding her, possessing her, as she moved like that beneath him.

His gaze moved over the dance floor farther, eyes narrowed against the clash of light coming from the strobes and the haze of smoke slowly building from the cigarette smokers. Shade and Reese were within feet of her, dancing with several of the young women on the floor. It wasn't unusual to see a Dom dancing with the women, and Clint had to admit no one could have mistaken the two Rangers for less than full alphas.

There were a lot of new dancers, which wasn't unusual. He recognized Craig making his rounds as well as Joe as he lounged lazily against the far wall. Grant Samuels was missing, called home unexpectedly.

Clint continued to survey the club, coming back every few minutes to Morganna as he listened to the pulse of music and hollow voices in the receiver at his ear punctuated with the reports coming from the technician in the van that had accessed Drage's security cameras.

Morganna continued to dance, conversing as she moved, laughing, enjoying the freedom of movement. She was drifting farther into the crowd, which made him nervous.

"You can't take your eyes off her, Clint." Timothy's voice was smug, superior. "You're going to lose control of her at this rate."

As though anyone would ever have control of Morganna. There was no controlling her; he was learning that quickly.

"She'll do okay." He had refrained from commenting much due to the simple fact that Morganna wore the same receiver in her ear that he wore in his.

As the wave of the crowd moved around her, Clint kept his eyes on the top of her head, tensing as the dancers shifted as well. Jenna was moving farther and farther away from Morganna, as was Sandy. Clint couldn't glimpse the man dancing next to her now but had noticed the other man's fondness for her hair. He kept touching it. Kell and Ian were still close to her. Catching Kill's attention, Clint flicked his gaze deliberately on the stranger, indicating that they should stay close. Something about the man made Clint uncomfortable.

The two SEALs were on radio silence, unknown to Joe and his team. Which meant the mole couldn't mark then. Kell nodded imperceptibly before he and Ian began to move in, drawing the women dancing with them closer.

A short pulse of static at Clint's ear heralded the tech in the van.

"Boys and girls, we have an anomaly at the club's bad door. Do you have that, Drage?"

"We have it." Drage answered. "Jayne is heading there. It appears the security lock is being disengaged. Can you see anything?"

"Nada, too many shadows," the tech answered.

Clint's gaze jerked to the dance floor's exit leading to the private halls and the back door. Jayne Smith was gliding smoothly through the entranceway, her shoulders straight and tense as she headed for the area.

Timothy's voice droned in the background, Clint swung his gaze back to the dance floor. Once again Morganna had moved, and this time he had lost sight of her. Standing easily to his feet, he searched the floor, finally catching a glimpse of her on the far side with Ian and Kell moving in close synchronization with her and the stranger.

The stranger was making Clint damned nervous. He was too careful, keeping his face shadowed and out of Clint's range of vision. And he was too close to her. If it were any other woman, Clint would have felt a spurt of jealous anger. But he knew Morganna now, and he knew damned well she wouldn't allow another man to dance that closely with her.

"Who's the stranger?" Clint snapped out, moving along the edge of the dance floor.

"We can't get an ID. He's keeping himself shielded," Joe reported. "He reminds me of the bastard trying to slip that last girl the drug."

Which was exactly what Clint was thinking. "Craig, can you see anything?" he questioned, watching the taller forms of his men as they moved into combat mode. He knew the signs. Their bodies were tense, prepared, the subtle hand signals they sent back to him warning.

Morganna didn't appear to be dancing anymore; neither did the stranger. Dressed in heavy leather, a hat shielding his ice. the figure led her to the edge of the dance floor; coming c quickly on the rear was the young man Sandy.

Morganna, is everything okay?" Clint snapped the question, knowing the sensitive mic on the receiver would pick up his words.

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