Page 6 of Wicked Fantasies

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 side by side 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 the asshole accountant had nearly driven him out of his mind that night. He’d never seen her show 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 in. 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’d been 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.

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. 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’d 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 earlier 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 had 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 killedhim 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 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. “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.

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