The Program: an organization of elite soldiers with superior strength, agility, and intellect. These men put their lives on the line to execute the government’s most dangerous missions.
Kidnapped with her son and forced into helping a rogue scientist with his experiments, Dr. Samara Jones saw no escape. Until the day she was rescued by a group of elite soldiers from the Program. Now under the protection of the Program, Samara is working to prove her innocence—and struggling to control the burning need she feels for Chase Stanton, one of her rescuers.
As laid-back as he is deadly, Chase is a well-honed solider who always responds to the call of duty, whether it’s a life-or-death mission or a scorching night of passion. When he’s assigned to protect Samara, he’s immediately drawn to the smart, headstrong woman, and confides a dark fear to her—despite feeling torn by his suspicions that she could be a double agent. Duty demands he resist temptation, but desire has its own demands . . .
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Her own body felt unremarkable, too plump next to his sculpted beauty. But the look in Chase’s eyes told her didn’t see her that way. His harsh breathing said he liked everything about the way she felt in his arms.
With an easy move, Chase tugged her up and on top of him, while he fell backward onto the bed. She stretched out on him, instantly undulating her hips against the hard flat planes of his pelvis. He was becoming as aroused as she was. Heck, she’d been on a hair trigger since he’d emerged from the shower, dripping in the too-small towel.
Her dark hair fell in a curtain around his face, getting caught on his scratchy beard and in his eyes. She laughed and shook it back.
“Don’t. I like your hair on me.”
“It’s so short.”
“It’s silky. Like your skin.”
She melted against him a little more.
“I want you so badly,” Chase groaned against her lips.
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her body was totally on board with the idea. It had been years since she’d had sex, and she already knew it was a dud experience compared to what making love with Chase would be like. Simply kissing him fully clothed was hotter and more satisfying than going all the way with her last bed partner.
“Don’t answer now, just let me kiss you a little more.”
She stifled a grin and leaned in for more of his intoxicating kisses. She knew if he kissed her a little longer she’d be putty in his arms, amenable to anything he wanted to do. He made her forget herself, her troubles and her responsibilities and it was oh so enticing, but oh so dangerous.
“Stop thinking, Jonesie, and kiss.”
She couldn’t help it. She laughed. He knew her so well. The kiss continued, hotter and more mind-blowing.
Chase’s hand curved around the back of one of her thighs and crept up, taking advantage of the loose fit of her boxers. His hand easily fit in the gaping opening until his palm covered her bare bottom.
“No panties. I like it, Jones. Kinky.”
“I’m in my pajamas and it’s healthful for every woman to allow proper airflow on occasion.”
His hand stiffened on her bottom, and he chortled. “You kill me, Jones. Seriously. Only you could offer medical advice at a moment like this.”
Something of her uncertainty must have shown, for his smile faded and he looked at her intently. “I like it. I like you.” And then he kissed her again.
Only instead of being simply scorching, it was sweet and loving and tugged at her heart. Were they really going to do this? His finger grazed the damp cleft between her thighs and she knew the answer. Yes, absolutely.