Biting her lip, she said softly, “Well, I am. Happy, that is. I was feeling rather trapped—and alone.”
As quickly as his anger came, it left him. Smiling, he admitted, “It was a damn stupid thing to do. Unfortunately that fact didn’t occur to me until I was about halfway up the mountain and I realized it was too late to turn around.”
“Let’s get you out of those wet clothes,” she said, suddenly very pleased to have him with her. “I’ll put some water on for tea.”
“Don’t bother with the tea. I brought a bottle of Southern Comfort.” His hands shaking, he attempted, with little success, to tackle the buttons on his soggy flannel shirt.
“We are in the South, after all.”
“I’m not sure West Virginia classifies as the South. It’s really sort of the middle. Here, let me.” Pulling his trembling hands away, she quickly unbuttoned his shirt and tugged it off. His skin was like ice to the touch. “You’ll be lucky if you don’t catch pneumonia or frostbite,” she said, unable to resist one more scold. “Come stand by the fire.” Taking his icy hands in hers, she rubbed them lightly. “I’ll get a blanket for you. Stay here and try to get warm.”
Crossing the room, she retrieved a fleece blanket from the foot of the bed as Ross struggled with the button fly on his damp jeans.
“I’ll do that,” she said, concerned for his health. His hands were still trembling and looked blood red and chapped. No doubt he’d lied about how long he’d really been roaming around in the snow and wind.
“Jules,” he started to object, but she was already working the buttons free, concern distracting her from exactly what she was offering to do. When she had the last button unclasped, she grabbed the waistband and started to pull the clinging denim off his legs. The task was harder than she would have thought, but sheer determination and worry
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kept her going. She struggled for several minutes, working the material down his muscular legs, stopping only to pull off his boots and socks, before finally peeling the jeans completely off.
“There,” she exclaimed, looking up into Ross’s suddenly pained face. Her mouth went dry as she realized that during her exertions she’d knelt in front of him and was now eye level with his barely clad cock straining through the material of his silk boxer shorts. This part of him certainly gave new meaning to the term “frozen stiff”.
“I—” she stumbled, unwilling to take her eyes off his very large appendage. She was sure she’d never seen anything quite so big and her curiosity outweighed her embarrassment.
“My God,” she whispered, awestruck as the monstrous cock seemed to grow even larger before her eyes. Without a thought, she reached up and nearly touched it before a growl above her and a strong hand on her wrist stopped her.
“Brown Eyes,” Ross said, his deep voice flowing over her like honey, “if you don’t move away from that this minute, I’ll keep you kneeling there the rest of the night.”
Gasping, Julia rose quickly, painfully aware she was not as averse to his threat as she should be. She’d never sucked on a man’s cock before, had never even wanted to until she’d read those damned erotic novels Ross had given her. Now all she could think about was trying to give him a blowjob. Lord, she was losing her mind.
“I’ll get you something to eat,” she muttered, escaping to the far side of the cabin. 18
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Chapter Two
Ross watched his brown-eyed angel flutter across the room to the kitchen, obviously hoping to escape. The main reason he loved this cabin was because it was a whole house contained in one large room. The roomy kitchen was separated from the rest of the room by a long bar and it contained everything needed to make someone’s stay special. An extra-large refrigerator, microwave, convection oven and dishwasher made sure visitors wouldn’t starve or slave.
On the opposite wall of the cabin was the tall king-sized oak bed, with a matching dresser, chest and wardrobe. In the center of the room was the large living area, complete with an oversized couch and two easy chairs facing the big stone fireplace, a huge bearskin rug on the floor in front and a double-sided partner desk, one side of which Jules had clearly claimed as her laptop and notes rested there. The only other room in the cabin was the adjoining bathroom with a large Jacuzzi tub and double-headed shower stall. It was a lover’s paradise and Ross had known the moment he laid eyes on it he would buy it and bring Jules here. For the first time in their decade-long relationship, his favorite author would have no escape—not from him or his plans for seduction. He watched as his skittish kitten dropped the fork she was using to flip the ham steaks she’d hastily thrown into a cast-iron skillet. Grinning, he admired her luscious backside as she bent to pick it up. God, she was perfect. Ross shook his head, amazed to think he’d been blind to her beauty for so many years. He and Jules had rocketed to the top of their respective fields together. They had climbed the ladder of success together and foolishly, Ross had wasted the first few years of their relationship treating her like a little sister. Studying her now, he was feeling anything but brotherly. His feelings for her hadn’t changed overnight, but rather evolved gradually after the unsavory incident between Jules and Scott Jenkins. Watching Julia flirt and make eyes at another man had nearly driven him out of his mind that night. He’d never seen her show
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any interest in another man and the image of her showering all her lovely smiles and lilting laughter on someone else was more than he could stand. Jealousy, in regard to Jules, was a new emotion for him and it took him by surprise. Of course, it didn’t help that she was wearing a sheer red blouse and black velvet skirt shorter than he’d ever seen her don. He was used to seeing her in her tomboy outfits—jeans and T-shirts. Yet that night, she’d obviously taken special pains with her appearance—even wearing makeup and pulling her lovely brown hair up in a chignon, allowing a few wisps to frame her face. Ross’s fingers itched during the whole party to yank her upstairs, take her hair down, pull his hands through it and watch it trail over her shoulders.
When he saw her fighting Scott on the bed, her eyes wide with fear, he was overwhelmed with an anger more intense than any he’d ever felt before. For the first time in his life, he knew what it felt like to want to physically hurt another person. Hell, to kill another person. He would gladly have ripped Scott Jenkins to pieces for touching Julia against her will. Later, when he realized she’d willingly gone to the bedroom with Scott, he felt eaten alive with jealousy. The only man he wanted in her bed was him. Somewhere along the line his little Julia had blossomed into a true beauty. Her wavy chestnut hair framed a heart-shaped face and emphasized her large whiskey-colored eyes. Her body was every man’s wet dream with firm, large breasts, a narrow waist and shapely hips a man could grab onto as he plunged into her. Despite the unexpected revelations of that night, he continued to fight his growing attraction to his sexy romance writer, dismissing it as a passing fancy, a strange quirk of fate. For all intents and purposes, she was an innocent and his sexual desires needed an experienced woman, one who could handle his darker appetites. Jules did not fit that bill. Unfortunately, the women who could handle him in the bedroom, women like Bridget, were complete bitches out of bed. For the last few years he’d managed to convince himself he preferred his eligible-bachelor status, hopping from one casual, sex-only relationship to another, while getting the female companionship he craved from his best friend, Jules.
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Every now and then guilt would get the better of him and he’d convince himself he was being selfish with Julia, trying to keep her in a little box—his own exclusive friend, his own private fantasy. He knew she would make a hell of a wife for some lucky bastard, even if it couldn’t be him. He tried more than once to set her up with other guys, but at the last minute, he’d panicked and found the worst possible man for her. After forcing her to endure several mismatches, he didn’t have the stomach to try any more blind dates for fear one of his setups might actually take. Unwilling to risk losing her, he stopped trying to convince her to join the real world. Keeping her busy with deadlines and their Thursday-night pizza dates, he allowed her to convince him she was happy with her life as it was, which in turn, allowed him to hop from bed to bed attempting to satisfy his heavy-handed sexual urges. Then the damned cat died and he watched his best friend fall apart.
For the first time since he met her, Jules stopped writing and Ross realized something else. He was in love with Julia Martin. This quirky, intelligent, shy, inquisitive little romance writer had stolen his heart. When he stopped to think about it, she’d stolen it ten years ago when she’d walked into his dingy little office and struck a book deal with the tenacity of a pit bull. Shy she might be, but stupid she was not. Over the years, they’d fought long and hard over the development of her craft and he had to admit that of all the writers he edited and published, Julia’s work was by far the best. No longer willing to deny his true feelings for her, he was about to put into action the game plan he’d designed a couple of months ago. He was going to claim Jules as his own and all he had to do was open her up to her sensuality, her passion. The erotica suggestion had been the first test. Ross had suggested she try to write a new genre, then gave her books to expose her to all the types of things he wanted to try with her. One evening, four weeks earlier, had set in motion the chain of events leading to this moment. He could still recall every word of their conversation that night.
It nearly killed him to wait until their Thursday-night date to see what she thought of the books he’d given her to read. When he arrived, her face was flushed and she seemed
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to be having trouble breathing. Glancing at the end table, he saw a copy of one of his favorite BDSM books,
Master Lover
, lying there. Gesturing to the book, he cleared his throat before asking, “So, what do you think?”
His Jules was nothing if not painfully honest. “It’s amazing,” she replied. “Do you think there are people who really live like that?”
Ross nearly came in his pants at her forthright question. “Yeah, I’m sure there are.”
He shifted slightly before sitting on the couch, adjusting the jeans which had suddenly become too tight.
“Would you live like that?”
Ross choked on the beer he was drinking.
“Sorry,” she said, grinning sheepishly. “That was an unbelievably personal question. Don’t answer.”
Unsure what to say, Ross grabbed a piece of pizza, using the time to stall and think of a way to respond, a way to keep the conversation going, without giving himself away.
“I don’t think I would like living like that,” she added between bites and Ross’s heart fell to his shoes. The test was over and he had failed. He wanted to be with Jules more than anything, but any relationship between them was doomed. There was no way he’d be able to hide the darker side of his sexual nature. Eventually, he would want her tied helpless on the bed. He would want to spank her, control her, fuck every part of her body—her ass, her mouth, her pussy—and according to her, she would balk, reject the idea.
“I mean,” she expounded, unaware of his sudden desolation, “it might be fun to try in bed, but I don’t think I could subscribe to the lifestyle. I’m too set in my ways and there is no way I could let some guy order me around all day, telling me how to dress, where to go, stuff like that.”
The hallelujah chorus began playing loudly in Ross’s head. She was willing. He didn’t want the lifestyle either. His Jules was intelligent and independent and he loved her that way. The green light to proceed flashed. All systems go.
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“Dinner’s ready,” Julia announced, dragging Ross’s thoughts back to the present. So far his plan had gone like clockwork. She had agreed to try her hand at writing the erotica book and when he suggested she come here to write in solitude, she didn’t blink twice. He’d intended to give her a few days to struggle over starting the book before stopping by to see how she was doing, but the blizzard sped things up. And not necessarily for the worse. Now he and Jules would be snowed in for days with no chance of escape. All he had to do was convince her that, in the interest of research, perhaps the two of them should try some of the things she was going to write about. His backpack was filled to the brim with sex toys and he intended to introduce her to every one of them. The meal passed in quiet conversation, the two of them comfortable dinner companions after so many years of friendship.
“How many dinners do you think we’ve eaten together?” she asked casually. Ross chuckled. “I don’t know. Three, four hundred? And amazingly enough, your cooking never gets any better.” He stabbed another bite of charred ham, waving it in front of her face.
“Ha ha,” Julia answered. “You would think after so many dinners, you’d wise up and stop asking me to cook.”
“Why do you think I designated Thursdays as pizza night?” Ross asked smugly, then deftly dodged the piece of flying ham she flung at him in response. He rose and grabbed her hand. “Come on. Let’s go sit by the fire.”
Before dinner, he’d thrown on a pair of gray sweatpants and a faded navy blue Tshirt. Julia admired the way the pants hung low on his hips, yet she couldn’t erase the image of him earlier—shirtless as she knelt in front of his enormous erection. She’d never seen him in anything other than his jeans and a T-shirt on Thursdays, or the Hugo Boss designer suits he wore to the office. Seeing his muscular, bare chest with honest-toGod washboard abs still had her libido doing somersaults. How they were going to coexist in this cabin for who knew how long was beyond her. She hoped for her sake he would keep his clothes on and limit his dressing to the bathroom, lest she make a fool of herself by drooling. She was also fairly certain the size of his penis was something she