“I dare you to try to run from me again.” He lay back against the headboard and watched her reaction.
It took her three seconds to catch on and another second to be off the bed, springing naked to the door. He’d better catch her before she made it to the hallway. She didn’t want to get kicked out of her hotel stay.
Bam!
Her hand was reaching for the doorknob, when Rowan’s big body slammed into her from behind, pressing her breasts against the wood of the door. His hand gripped one wrist and held it above their heads against the door. Her right hand shimmied out from between their bodies to try to free herself, but he managed to grab that too and bound both her wrists in his left hand, holding them captive above her head.
“Get on your toes,” he growled in her ear.
As she rose onto tippy–toes, every inch of his erection slid along her lower back and down the crease of her ass until it bobbed between her legs. She adjusted her stance so the head of his penis probed at her entrance. His hips shifted and he was embedded deep inside. With this angle, she felt full to bursting and every nerve ending touched a part of his body. He overwhelmed her, crushing her front to the door, and pressing his chest to her back. The wood of the door felt scratchy against her cheek, and her toes felt as though they might fly off the ground entirely as he thrust upward.
“Move with me. I dare you,” he said in his deep voice against her right ear.
“It’s my turn to dare,” she said and gasped on a deep thrust.
“Go for it,” he grunted and continued thrusting.
“I dare you to make me come,” she said.
His answer was to speed up his thrusts, impaling her on his erection. Her whole body was pinioned on where their bodies joined. Her heart thrummed and she shifted her hips trying to reach that magical angle.
“Put your hands flat on the wall,” Rowan ordered. “Don’t move them.”
Hastily she obeyed, while his hand lowered to her front and found her swollen clitoris. He plucked, and she screamed. He stroked, and she moaned. They rocked together, thumping against the door, with the sensation of the hard wood against her nipples adding a titillation and newness to the sex.
They stayed in this position, with him fucking her from behind, holding her captive. She had to think of it as fucking. Yesterday they’d made love, each of them giving to the other. This was fucking. He gave, she took.
Her orgasm was building, and she tried to hold it back, but his knowing fingers between her legs, played her with expertise, eliciting sobs and please and “oh Gods.”
“I dare you to come. Now,” Rowan said.
Her orgasm exploded around them, forcing his, until she could no longer hold up her body, and sank down, trusting Rowan to hold them up. He remained deep inside her, holding her back tight to his front. Sweat beaded in her cleavage, bonding her to the door, and there was a wet sound when they finally managed to pull away. They stumbled to the bed where they burrowed under the covers, wrapped around each other likes snakes on the caduceus.
They lay in a haze until Rowan whispered, “Truth or Dare, Jill?”
“Truth.”
“Do you love me?”
“Yes.” Easy answer. “Truth or Dare, Rowan?”
“Dare.”
She smiled. “I dare you to stay with me forever and be the father of our children.”
A short silence, then, “Yeah. I’ll take that dare.”
Epilogue
T
he insistent ring of the hotel room phone woke them up from a deep slumber. They’d finally crashed into sleep well after midnight.
“Someone better be dead, Adam,” Rowan growled into the phone.
Jill reclosed her eyes and burrowed into his side. This was her day off and she wanted to hide from the real world a little longer. When Rowan jerked up to sitting with his body tensing, she followed.
“What is it?” she mouthed at him. He was staring at her, eyes wide, listening to whatever his brother was telling him over the phone at—she squinted at the clock on the nightstand—7:24 in the morning.
Rowan didn’t respond but kept listening. Finally he hung up and took a breath before speaking. “Someone
is
dead. It’s Jack.”
There was silence in the hotel room as confused thoughts slammed into Jill’s sleep–addled brain, including a moment when she wondered who the heck Jack was. “Jack, as in my husband Jack, is
dead
?”
Rowan nodded.
“How? What? How?”
Rowan grabbed her onto his lap and started speaking. “The details are still fuzzy, but the general Program number got a call this morning. They were looking for you, and thanks to your TV interview, they knew where you were.”
“Who was looking for me? Why?” They both were doing a crappy job at communicating thanks to the early hour and their lack of sleep.
“The police. You’re Jack’s next of kin, so they needed to let you know he died in their custody this morning.”
“How?” She felt like crying, but it was stupid. She should be celebrating. Ding dong, the Jackass is dead.
“They’re going to claim it was natural causes, but Adam called in a favor and got the word that it wasn’t. They suspect poison.”
“Poison?” she repeated both numbly and dumbly.
He nodded. “Dropped dead right after breakfast. The whole thing is a little crazy. He hadn’t made bail yet so he was still in the county correctional facility. The other men with him claim they saw nothing suspicious. Just that he got up and ate breakfast.”
“And then he died?”
Another nod. “Adam thinks it was poison. Someone wanted Jack dead.”
“Who would want Jack dead? Other than me?”
“Well, me,” Rowan said, “but I didn’t do it. It could bring some suspicion onto The Program, but we didn’t do it, so they’ll never be able to prove anything. It was actually a lucky thing we spent the night here. It’ll be our alibi. ”
She was silent for a while trying to process it. Jack was dead. She was a widow.
“You know what this means, Jill?” Rowan finally asked softly. “You’re free. No divorce, no waiting period.”
“I know,” she whispered. “But I can’t be happy it happened this way. It’s crazy. I wished him dead so many times. Every time he drove out to work, I’d pray he’d be in a car accident so I’d be free. But now that it’s happened, I feel guilty. I’m a horrible person to have wished for his death.”
Rowan tightened his grip on her. “No. A horrible person commits the murder. You were a victim, Jill. No guilt. Just freedom now.”
“Freedom,” she whispered. Until this second, she hadn’t realized how much pressure Jack had been exerting over her current life. While she was no longer under daily physical threat, he’d been the guillotine blade hanging over her and the life she was trying to build with Rowan. Now it was gone. Jack was dead. “I wonder who did kill him,” she said.
Rowan shrugged. “Shep is putting me and Adam on it, because he thinks whoever killed Jack is going to be someone we want to know about.” He looked grim; then finally he grinned. “Well, I can’t ever claim my life with The Program is boring. Looks like the next adventure.” He lowered his head to warm her lips with his and, as always, passion ignited. She knew it always would, and that for her, the most exciting adventure was right next to her holding her close.
About the Author
By day, Lynne Silver lives the suburban soccer mom life: volunteering with the PTA, doing laundry and working. By night she enters the sensuous world of alpha males and passionate heroines.
She calls the nation’s capital home and lives in an old fixer–upper with her husband and their two sons. When not writing romance, she reads it. Lots of it. Over and over and over again, preferably with a bag of M&Ms in hand.
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Acknowledgements
Much like a movie, a book is a production by a cast of many. Thank you to Laurel Wanrow and Karen Corkran for first reading book one in the series and telling me (nicely) how badly it sucked and how to make it rock. To Grace Bradley for believing in the series. Thank you to my agent, Jessica Alvarez, for all her hard work on my behalf.
To Elizabeth Babski, graphic artist extraordinaire, who always makes me look good. To Kerri and Carlene, I don’t know what I’d do without our lunches. Go more Kray–Kray, probably. To the Washington Romance Writers for being an amazing support network.
To my readers— especially Ledondee G — who love the whole Program crew possibly more than I do, THANK YOU!
Thank you to my number one reader, my mom, and thank you to my father for keeping his promise to never read my books, but is still the best Lynne Silver salesman.
And as always, much love to Team Silver, the home crew who inspire me and support me every step of the way. Love you.