What the hell was he doing here?
She had no intention of waiting around to find out. There were a few things that Clint didn’t know about her life, and Morganna found that she liked it that way. It kept her life running much smoother and without the hassle of worrying about him poking his nose into a career choice that had turned out to be exactly what she was looking for.
Moving quickly to her feet, Morganna headed in the opposite direction, hoping to make it to the ladies’ room before he caught sight of her or caught her. She wasn’t stupid; he was coming for her and she knew it. She could feel it.
She pushed through the throng, glancing behind her and feeling a start of apprehension sear her chest at the intent, primal expression on his face. Yep, he was after her, and he was gaining on her fast. Too fast.
She pushed harder at the bodies blocking her way, weaving her way through the crowd as she fought to get to the bathroom. Once she was there it would be simple to send out an SOS to her backup and get Clint off her back. She couldn’t risk it now, not while she could be seen, heard.
The primal beat of the music emphasized the pounding of her heart as she glanced behind her again. He was closer, stalking her, his expression intent, carnal. Dangerous.
She broke through the mass of bodies and streaked toward the long hallway that led to the bathrooms as well as the private rooms reserved for sexual play. Too bad she hadn’t thought to reserve one; she could have locked herself in. But the bathroom was just ahead, the small neon light clearly lit over the doorway.
Her hand touched the door as she went to lean her weight into opening it, but hard hands gripped her hips, nearly picked her up from the floor, and began to propel her forward.
“You should have headed for the exit,” Clint said into her ear. “You might have actually escaped then. What the hell are you doing here?”
Shock held her speechless as he paused at one of the private rooms, swiped a card through the security lock, and propelled her through the open door.
It wasn’t a bedroom; there was no sleeping done here. This was a sex room.
A large box bed sat in the middle of the room. There were shelves of sex toys, a wall hung with small whips and quirts. Manacles hung from the wall over the bed and chains with leather straps led from the floor at each corner of the bed.
And Clint had a key to it. Which meant he knew what the hell went on in here. Even more, this was his personal room, reserved for him alone. He would have placed the toys here, the manacles, the accoutrements of the erotic and extreme.
Shock plunged through her body. She had known he was dominant, highly sexual. But she had never suspected this.
“Fancy seeing you here.” She swung around, opening her eyes guilelessly as she stared back at him, fighting to calm her racing heart. “And you’re not wearing leather, either. Aren’t you breaking some kind of unwritten Dom rule?”
He stared back at her. Morganna fought to keep her expression a bit mocking, rather than slack with amazement. And here she had thought she knew everything there was to know about her best friend’s brother.
“Is that look a permanent part of your expression? I don’t think I’ve seen a change in years,” she accused him lightly when he didn’t speak. “Most people try for a little variety sometimes, you know?”
“Is complete insanity a part of your personality?” he asked in turn. “I’m starting to think I should have let Reno tan your backside when he caught you slipping from your bedroom window years ago.”
Morganna rolled her eyes and fought to keep from showing her nervousness. “Reno wasn’t going to ‘tan my backside’ then any more than he would now. He was all bluff.”
His lips tightened. Clint wasn’t all bluff, and she knew it.
“You need to be spanked,” he growled, shooting her a brooding look as he strode to the small bar.
She stared around the room again. “Well, if punishment were my thing, then you would be the man to come to. Tell me, do you really use this stuff?”
He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze moving to the toys and sexual paraphernalia.
“Sometimes.” He shrugged. “Some subs almost require it.”
She raised her brows. “Does it turn you on?”
His gaze flickered as it returned to her. “Would you like to find out?”
It didn’t turn him on. She could see it in his eyes, in his voice. Sometimes she knew Clint better than she knew herself. And she knew the look in his eyes as he answered her. A look of wary regret.
“I think I’ll pass tonight.” She smiled back. But when he turned away from her, Morganna jumped for the door. The knob wouldn’t turn.
“You need a key,” he informed her calmly as he poured a drink before turning back to her.
Damn, he looked like a Dom. Brooding sexuality swirled around him as he lifted the short glass to his lips and tipped it back. When he lowered it again, his blue eyes seemed to burn into her.
“I asked you a question. Answer me.”
She crossed her arms beneath her breasts as she faced him challengingly. “What do you think I’m doing here, Clint? It’s a club, isn’t it?”
His jaw bunched before he brought the glass to his lips again and finished the drink. He looked even less pleased than normal. But he did look sexy. Hell, he always looked sexy.
“You know what kind of club it is.” His voice was hard, dark. The hunger slipping into it had her nipples peaking beneath her top, the flesh between her thighs moistening.
“So I do.” She fought to control her breathing, as well as her reaction to him.
She knew exactly what kind of club it was and she knew the type of men who reserved these rooms. Realizing that Clint was one of those men had both fear and excitement racing through her.
“So I’m asking you again. What are you doing here?”
She had never heard that tone of voice before from him. Rasping, filled with lust. It shook her to her core. “Now, Clint, why do you think I’m here?” She cocked her hip and propped her hand on it, watching his eyes flare and loving the response. This was a side of him she had never seen. A side that fascinated her, drew her. Shocked her.
“That’s what I was asking you,” he finally snapped. “Honestly, Morganna, I can’t come up with a single reason why you would be here.”
“Of course not—you’re too busy trying to convince yourself I’m complexly nonsexual and therefore unthreatening.” She shrugged. “I’m not responsible for your self-delusions.”