#2 Dangerous Games (31 page)

She flowed against him, her head turning to press into the thick expanse of his upper arm, the warmth of her tears washing over his flesh, branding him.

"I came back as soon as I could," he whispered, pressing his lips to the top of her head as he fought the need to hold her tighter.

Her hands gripped his lower arm, holding on tight to him as he heard that little broken sound that came from her throat. It wasn't exactly a gasp, a bit more than a hitch. A breathy little catch filled with sorrow and pain. Morganna didn't cry often, but when she did, it was because the hurt went too deep to contain.

That was why her tears made him violent. He couldn't handle Morganna hurting that deeply.

"Did you think I was going to be upset that you racked Mace?" he whispered, feeling the heat of the water and the warmth of her body seeping into him. She shook her head.

"I couldn't take you with me." He closed his eyes tight, unable to resist pulling her closer to his chest, his arms holding her tighter. "I couldn't risk you like that, Morganna." "Stop." She shook her head again.

"That made me mad...." Her voice hitched. "I don't cry over mad ... Just go to bed. Rest..." The keening little whimper that left her throat had terror racing through his soul. Oh God, if she started sobbing, could he survive it? Morganna had never, ever sobbed.

"I can't leave you like this, Morganna." His hands smoothed up and down her arms, everything inside him reaching out to her, desperate to comfort her. "Tell me how to make better, sweetheart. I will." She shook her head again.

'"Sweetheart, you're breaking my heart here," he whispered against her hair. "I can't stand to see you hurt like this; you have to let me help you."

"How?" she cried, her voice rough, hoarse. "You didn't see your eyes, Clint. You didn't see the grief and sorrow, and can't help it." Her hands clenched on his arm. "I can't do anything to take it away like I used to. I can't joke, or poke at you, because I know what he meant to you. I can't help you...." One little sob.

It jerked from her chest and sent a dagger stroke of pain to sear his soul.

He had thought he had a handle on it before he faced her. Had thought he was hiding the grief, the rage.

He should have known better. He had never hidden anything from Morganna; it was one of the reasons he had fought to stay away from her, to push her as far from his life as possible. Because she could see into his soul.

He fought to swallow back his emotion as he sighed roughly.

"He was a friend," he said softly. "Just as Nathan was."

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His jaw clenched at the thought of the hell they would awaken to. "I can't imagine waking up one day and knowing yon were gone, Morganna," he said, feeling a shard of weakness filling his soul. "I don't know if I could survive. And that's all I can think about. Losing you. Never hearing you laugh. never being pissed at you again, or touching you again, it makes my gut knot with terror. And I don't like that fear. I hate it, baby. Fear makes you weak. It makes you slow. I can't afford to be slow right now."

"I need to comfort you." Her breathing hitched again. "And I don't know how. Just like a year ago, after Irish's service, I needed to do something. Anything...."

And he had sent her away. Had she cried then? Had she hidden and let her misery flow in the tears she shed? He had made her cry, more than once. Him, the same son of a bitch who had broken a man's nose for making her cry.

"You're here," he told her then, knowing that was m comfort than he deserved. "Look at you, flowing against me. sweet and soft. I don't have to be alone...."

He clenched his teeth tight, realizing the truth of the statement he was making. He didn't have to feel alone, because she was with him. Because something about Morganna eased him.

"You never had to be alone," she said hoarsely. "I was always here, Clint."

He lifted her then, turning her across his lap, cuddling her close to his chest as he felt his erection slipping between he-thighs, resting against the silken flesh of her sex. He wanted her. Hungered for her. But for the first time in his life, his arousal was taking a backseat to something more important something primal, insistent.

Comforting his woman.

He stared into the stormy depths of her tear-soaked eyes, her dark lashes spiked around the misty depths, her expression paler than normal.

"I knew you were waiting on me," he said as he smoothed his thumb over her cheek, wiping away her tears. "I came back to you, desperate to feel your warmth against me. I'm cold inside, Morganna." He grimaced at the emotion she inspired within him. "Warm me."

Her eyes widened, her breath hitching again as her hand curled around his neck, her fingers pushing beneath his hair as she drew him to her.

"Warm me," he whispered again as her lips touched his. Just for a little while."

HE COULDN'T NOT TOUCH HER. The loss raging inside him, the danger surrounding her, the emotions ripping through his soul, needs and hungers, desire and feelings he couldn't define, refused to define, tore through Clint in an upheaval that threatened to destroy him.

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Morganna's lips were heated satin, hungry beneath his. opening to him as he sent his tongue to taste her.

And she tasted like nectar, the wine of the gods, the perfect passion. A balm to the ragged wounds he had felt shredding his very spirit with the loss of his men.

Her fingertips moved over his face with trembling caresses that had his body tightening, his mind fighting the loss of control over his emotions. He couldn't afford to feel this deeply for her. Yet he did. Here, surrounded by the steamy heat of the bathwater, the rising hunger that flared so easily between them, Clint knew he would never walk away from her easily.

"I was scared for you." Her breath hitched again as his lips slid from hers to taste her jaw, his lips sliding lower as her head fell back over his arm. "I hated you being alone."

"Shh. I'm not alone now, baby." One hand caressed her hip as the other smoothed along her shoulder.

"You're right here with me. Feel me?"

"No one ..." She gasped as his hand smoothed to her full breast, the swollen weight fitting perfectly in his hand. "Watched your back...."

He had learned to watch his own back, but he couldn't tell her that. He kissed her instead. Bending her over his arm as his lips devoured her, short, stinging little kisses that flushed her face, that darkened her eyes and left her panting in his arms.

She shifted against him, the slick heat of her pussy caressing his engorged cock, sending electric fingers of sensation to race through the swollen shaft before it sizzled up his spine.

She was like a storm, whipping through his senses, drowning out his control and his sanity as he let his lips feed from hers. consuming her passion as he gave her his.

There was no time for the gentleness he wanted to give

her. No room for finesse or soft words. Blood and death surrounded them both. Grief, sorrow, and a need he couldn't

fight or ignore filled him until he wondered if he could survive the emotions tearing through him.

He needed her. He wouldn't survive if he didn't take her, if he didn't fill his soul with her need, his senses with her touch. With the assurance that there was something left worth fighting for. There was the innocence of true passion, Morganna's throaty moans, and the feel of her nails pricking at his scalp as she held him to her.

"You make me burn, Morganna." The words were torn from his lips as he lifted her, turning her until those long, slender legs clasped his hips and he could feel the thick head of his cock parting the tender folds between her thighs. "Inside and out."

He held her waist as her head tipped back on her shoulders, a keening moan of need whispering past her lips as he felt the head of his cock force past her tender entrance.

Being inside her wasn't easy. She was small, tight, clamping around the invading crest as her panting moans urged him to hurry. He had no intention of rushing; he wanted to feel her, needed to experience each convulsive ripple of

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pleasure that quaked through her slick channel.

"Clint, I need you now." Her voice was breathless, imperative.

"Shh, baby, let me feel you." His head lowered, his lips -rushing over the tops of the swollen mounds of her breasts. "You're so sweet and warm, flowing over me like honey. Let me feel you, baby."

She shuddered as her breath caught and he felt the soft cream flooding her sex, washing over him, easing his way as he slid inside her. Clint was hard-pressed to go easy, to take her gently. His thighs bunched with the effort to hold back to work inside her rather than taking her. To pull back before sinking in farther, feeling the hot, wet silk gripping him. clenching along his hard flesh as he felt his chest tighten with the arousal growing within him.

He slid farther into the tub, half-reclining as his hips raised and lowered, spearing his cock into the soft depths between her thighs as his hands held her hips prisoner.

He needed to taste her. The taste of her went to his head like the most intoxicating brew, sweet and addictive. His tongue curled around a stiffened nipple, his teeth gripping the small ring of gold piercing it as she jerked in his arms.

Lower, he could feel the ball ring piercing his foreskin rasping inside her pussy, tugging at his cock, creating a friction he wasn't certain he could bear much longer.

"Clint... oh God. It feels so good ... so good...." He: voice was breathless, filled with rising lust and tinged with emotion. "I love you, Clint. Oh God, I love you."

His hips jerked as her words sent a shock wave of emotion crashing through him. He heard her cry, filled with pleasure and impossible hunger as he drove the last inches of his erection fully inside her, seating her perfectly against him.

He could feel her vaginal muscles struggling to adjust to him, caressing over his thick shaft as panting little growls of sexual excess left her throat. His lips clamped over a nipple, his mouth drawing on her as he fought to hold back the words poised on his lips. Words of hunger, need, of emotion he knew he couldn't speak.

She was destroying him with her acceptance, with her pleasure. Damn her, she was ripping his guts out, stealing his convictions. Clint gripped her hips, holding her to him as he began to move. He ignored the sloshing water, ignored his

own certainty that she was stealing his soul as he gave her every part of himself. Silently. Irrevocably.

Morganna felt the change in Clint the moment the unbidden words passed her lips. As though a switch had been flipped, an intensity, a heat bordering supernova, seemed to fill him, whipping into her as he lost the impeccable control she so hated.

His hips moved fiercely between her thighs, lunging against her as he buried his cock inside her over and over again. Jerky, hard thrusts that stroked inside her, building the pleasure as it rasped hidden nerve endings, the ball ring creating an additional sensation she didn't know if she could do without now.

Her hands moved from his shoulders to his head, her body arching, pressing her nipple deeper into his
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suckling mouth as she felt the flames of never-ending pleasure burning her womb. Each stroke pierced more than just her vagina, filled more than just the aching depths of her sex. Her womb flexed with the driving pleasure as her heart filled with a subtle, burning emotion. Was it hers? His?

She jerked against him as she felt it building inside her, felt the change in him, the depth of his touch, the longing in his ragged groans. There was more than just the possession of her body, the sleek, thick intrusion of his cock inside her.

"God help me!" The harsh words, torn from his chest, had her womb convulsing as his thrusts became harder, deeper.

His hands held her to him, his head buried between her breasts as she felt his struggle to breathe, her struggle to breathe, felt the world darkening around her as each stroke of his cock inside her pushed her higher, burned her deeper.

"Clint...." Her hands tightened in his hair as she felt her pussy tighten around his invading cock. "Oh God, yes. Deeper. Harder. Harder, Clint. Take me-"

"Mine!" The sudden, furious burst of emotion in his voice triggered her explosion. The possessiveness the dominance, the hard, unconscious demand, swept through her, triggering an orgasm she hadn't expected.

Lights exploded behind her tightly clenched eyelids, brilliant bursts of light snapping through her head as she felt the; sudden release sweeping through her body, her senses.

It overtook her, flung her into a midnight sky, and left her shuddering as aftershocks tore through her body. The feel of Clint's release, hard, heated pulses of his semen jetting inside her as his hands tightened with bruising strength at her back, held her on the edge of ecstasy, refusing to release her as another hard orgasm tore through her.

Never ending. Unstoppable. She felt his lips, his teeth, at the side of her breast, marking her, stamping his ownership onto her just as his body fought to mark her with the hard, pulsing ejaculation filling her.

How long it lasted she didn't know. She didn't care. With each shudder of pleasure tearing through her, she felt Clint own another part of her soul. As though he hadn't already possessed her heart, he was filling her very spirit.

Finally, the strength left her body. As though only the hunger and the hard spear of his erection had kept her upright Morganna collapsed against his chest, spent, overwhelmed Weakness flooded her, sapping the last bit of strength that had kept her conscious.

She felt sleep roll over her like a dark, warm blanket sheltered against Clint's chest, assured of his safety, of his passion, she gave up the fight and let it have her. Sated Warm. In Clint's arms, she found the rest she needed.