#2 Dangerous Games (42 page)

What the hell had he done with his life?

As he stared at the pictures, he thought of Lisa and Rory, their strength, their love for each other, their children, and even children who weren't their own. They had taught him more than he had realized. Too bad he had forgotten it in his determination to run from the only person he couldn't defend himself against.

Morganna.

As the sound of the shower shut off, his head lifted, turning toward the staircase at the entryway. Just that quickly his body hardened, his erection filling his jeans with a sudden, intense demand.

Clint grimaced at the hunger that spiked through his body. Damn her. In a matter of days she had anchored herself inside his soul tighter than she had ever been. Why?

His lips quirked as he turned on his heel, moving silently through the living room as he headed for the entryway and the stairs.

She was more than he had ever imagined. For so many years he had allowed his mother's actions to taint his view of women. Morganna loved to look pretty, to dance, to laugh and enjoy people, just as his mother had when she was younger.

That slim resemblance to the woman who had helped make his childhood so miserable had kept him running from the one woman he had ever truly loved.

Morganna would die and go to hell before she would ever allow anyone to hurt a child of hers. The thought of children scared the hell out of him, Clint admitted, but he had been a fool to allow the past to mar the feelings he had never been able to truly run from where Morganna was concerned.

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As he took the first step upstairs, he heard her in her bedroom. Dresser drawers were slamming and she was muttering angrily to herself. She would be pissed that it had taken him so long to return, but he could handle pissed.

Morganna was like a fire in winter, heated, capable of burning a man clear to his soul even as she renewed the life within him.

He could do this.

He kept his steps silent as he moved to the landing, easing his way toward her bedroom, feeling the fires she lit within his body burning higher with each step he took toward her.

"Kitty Chesney, I've about had it." He rolled his eyes as he heard her talking to what could only be the cat Reno said she had acquired. She would call the damned thing Kitty Chesney. For all her love of the hard-pounding music in the clubs, Morganna still had a soft spot for one particular country artist.

He heard a distinct little meow.

"Stubborn men." Another drawer slammed. "Tell me again why I decided he was worth waiting on. He's not worth kicking anymore."

He could hear the pain in her voice, felt it clenching in his heart as disillusionment colored her tone.

"That's okay. Who the hell needs him?"

He winced at her monologue.

"I can live without him."

His eyes narrowed.

"And the captain was very pleased with how well I handled that assignment. So happy that he gave me my pick of positions."

Her voice was growing angrier.

"Screw him. He's a pain in the ass, arrogant, take-over male, and I don't need that. Do I? Tell me I don't need that, Kitty."

Meow.

"Exactly."

He could imagine the sharp little toss of her head, the narrowing of her eyes.

"You know, Kitty, the next time I see him, he better be wearing a protective cup."

Meow.

His lips quirked almost in amusement.

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"Kitty," Morganna sighed. "He's not coming back, is he?"

His chest tightened at the pain in her voice.

Shaking his head, he moved into the doorway, then came to a cold, hard stop. Sweet merciful heaven grant him strength, because the sight of her took his breath.

She had her back to him, dressed in a black silk thong, her back covered by the long, silken fall of her hair. Rounded smooth buttocks tempted his hands, caused his erection to jerk in sudden, hungry demand.

"Sometimes, he's just a little slow." Clint spoke softly, leaning against the doorjamb, as Morganna whirled around to face him.

Whew. Damn. He was going to keep his head, he promised himself he would, but the small triangle of silk covering her mound and the sheer lace of the bra covering her full, firm breasts were stealing his sanity.

"You're late." Slender arms crossed over those heaving mounds as her irritated voice snapped through his lust-dazed senses.

"I see you got the cat." He cleared his throat, watching Morganna carefully.

Her eyes were storm-dark, fierce, and narrowed. Her pouty lips were thinned, her cheeks flushed. Oh, she was pissed. Pissed he could deal with.

"And tonight, I'm going to find a redneck," she snapped back at him. "I'm done with you, Clint. Go away." She waved him away with a mocking little flip of her hand. "Me and Kitty Chesney have decided to just cut our losses and deal. You're not wanted now."

She turned away from him, stalked to the closet, and disappeared inside the clothing-filled depths. Clint waited. Following her into that closet would be like following a she-wolf into her lair. He was lust-crazed and so in love with her he couldn't breathe for the hunger rising inside him, but SEAL training was tough, and every instinct he possessed warned him to tread carefully where Morganna was concerned right now.

A minute later she stalked out. It was possible she was a bit angrier than when she'd gone in. She carried a pair of jeans and some kind of white top. It didn't look like there was much to the top. And she carried boots.

"I have a date. Go away." She flashed him a glare. Clint hid a grin. "You little liar. You have a meeting with Joe later."

A little moue of displeasure pouted her lips as her gray eyes flashed back at him.

"You think you're so smart." She tossed the clothes on the bed as the cat watched them curiously.

"I think I know you." He arched his brow. Morganna could fool a lot of people, but he knew her. Well.

Too well, he was starting to realize.

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She rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe I have a date after I meet with Joe." She picked up the blue jeans.

"Do you like those pants, Morganna?" Clint asked curiously as she pulled the first leg over her ankle.

"Would I be wearing them otherwise?" "Finish putting them on and I'm going to cut them off you later," he informed her gently. "I'd hate to have to ruin a good pair of jeans."

"I'd hate to have to hurt you, Clint." Her smile was tight, hard, as she finished putting the jeans on.

She stared back at him defiantly, challenging. He chuckled at the deliberate dare in her expression. He watched as she dressed. She buttoned the jeans, then reached to the bed for the white sleeveless blouse.

Not that she should have bothered. It barely reached her navel, flashing that little gold ring that pierced it.

He shook his head, braced his feet apart, and pushed his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans as he watched her. Yeah, she was really mad.

"It's only been a few days, baby," he murmured. "It's been five days, Clint. You left; you walked out again-"

"I love you, Morganna."

She shut up, staring back at him with wide eyes a long second before she blinked. "What?"

"I love you," he repeated. "I knew I loved you five days ago. I knew I loved you more than ten years ago."

"And you're just now telling me?" Her breasts were moving faster now, harder. Tight little nipples pressed against the layers of bra and blouse, assuring him that her arousal was burning just as hot, just as high, as his.

Facing her with the truth, though, that was harder. Admitting to a weakness wasn't easy for him, especially the cowardly way he had allowed the past to nearly destroy what had always been between him and Morganna.

"Yeah, I'm just now telling you." He breathed out heavily. "Because you made me feel, Morganna. You made me dream. Dream of me and you together." He glanced at her belly. "Dreams of you beneath me, growing round with my child. Dreams that were destroying me because I was terrified I was my father's son."

"You thought you would beat your child?" She stared back at him incredulously.

"Dammit, Morganna, don't stare at me like that," he growled. "His father beat him, just as his father before him did. I was concerned-"

"You are so full of bullshit!" She stomped her foot.

Now that really wasn't a good sign. Morganna was approaching eruption level when she stomped her foot.

He narrowed his eyes on her, wondering what the hell she had in her mind now. This was what he got
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for trying to bare his soul to her? Next time he'd just fuck her and have done with it.

"You ran because you thought you'd beat your baby? Because you thought because I wore makeup and flirted and had fun, I'd screw around on you?" Her eyes began to brighten with tears. No. Hell no. She was not going to start crying.

"You ran because the big tough he-man, the Conan of the block, couldn't make one little girl obey him like everyone else in the damned world did." She was yelling before she finished, in his face, her finger poking into his chest. "Can your bullshit, Clint. You ran because you cared. Because when you were with me, I made you feel. I made you love and you hated it."

And she was right, which he hated more. Or did he? She knew him. She had always known him. What made him angry, what made him laugh, what could make him pull his hair out in frustration. Morganna knew, like the little witch she was.

"You still don't obey. Anyone." He rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. "You drive me fucking crazy. You've always driven me crazy. You make me want to fuck you silly and at the same time I want to paddle your ass for not listening to good sense."

"Good sense being whatever you want me to do?" she argued, her eyes blazing, her breasts heaving. His dick was throbbing like an open wound even as his own frustration began to rise.

Damn, nothing turned him on faster than Morganna when she decided to get defiant.

"For God's sake, Morganna, you drove us crazy all your damned life," he snarled. "Slipping out of your room to follow me and Reno-"

"You were always catting around." She pouted. "God only knows what kind of disease you would have ended up with if you hadn't had to deal with me following you instead."

Surprise narrowed his eyes. "The parties?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh really, Clint, you came looking for me, didn't you?"

His lips flattened. "The flirting? The boyfriends?" She breathed in mockingly as she lifted her hand, glanced at her nails, then placed her fingers on her hip as she gazed back up at him archly. "Now, Clint, would you have paid half as much attention to me over the past few years if I had sat at home and waited on you? You would have forgotten I existed." "You little minx." Astonished amusement underlay the irritation in his voice.

"Hey, a girl has to do what a girl has to do." She shrugged negligently. "But I've stopped chasing after you, Clint. I'll be damned if I'll waste any more of my time on a man who continues to run from me. Go play SEAL games or something; I have a life to get on with, and living that life doesn't include watching you leave every time you figure out that you can't control me. And it sure as hell doesn't include waiting on you to decide if I'm worthy of loving every time you get in a little snit."

"A little snit?" he growled, feeling the loss of control he always felt around her. Damn her, she could tie his guts into knots with no more than a look. "Wanting to keep that pretty little ass of yours alive doesn't constitute being in a snit, Morganna."

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"You're too controlling-"

"You're too damned wild," he accused in return. "Left on your own, only God knows the chaos you'll cause. You're trouble in progress, dammit, and you know it."

She tossed her head; the seductive, sensual little movement had every instinct in his body howling to take her down. He wanted her on her knees, that pert little ass lifted to him as he plowed into her from behind.

"Whatever, SEAL-boy. Now just go away. I'm certain I'll manage fine without you."

The last parting shot should have pissed him off. Hell, he had just bared his heart to her and she came out fighting. But he saw the pain in her eyes, the hope and the dreams. Yeah, he knew Morganna way too well. She was a woman, with a woman's strange thoughts and illogical demands, a beautiful, challenging little witch, and by God, he was going to get the upper hand here if it killed him. She was daring him to do it, and he wasn't about to pass up the opportunity.

"And you think I'm just going to turn and walk out that door now?" he asked her curiously. "It's hard to believe you're giving up so easily, Morganna. You've been fighting to get me into your bed for years. I thought you were more stubborn than that."

He moved his fingers to the buttons of his shirt while he talked, flicking the little discs free as he watched her. Her eyes were locked on each movement, her cheeks flushing further as her gaze took on a hungry little gleam.

Of course she was more stubborn than that. He resisted the urge to smile, to shake his head, as he finished unbuttoning his shirt, as he pulled the hem from his jeans. Her gaze was almost a physical touch, licking over his bare chest as he shrugged from the material.

"Don't make me cut the clothes off you, baby," he warned her gently. "Take them off."

Excitement flickered in her eyes.

"I told you, I have an appointment." She crossed her arms over her breasts. "If you think getting back into my bed is going to be this easy-"

"I went to see my mother." He sat down on Morganna's bed, lifting one foot to place it on his knee as he began unlacing his hiking boots.

He watched Morganna. She became still, wary.