Page 22 of Erotic Research

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Ross watched in amazement as his gorgeous writer writhed in delight and ecstasy. He knew how powerful words were in her mind, but to see her succumb so totally to his commands overwhelmed his senses and the last of his control slipped completely away.

She had only begun to come down from her orgasm when Ross crawled onto the bed and entered her fully with one deep push. The power, the dominance of the motion sent Julia immediately over the edge and she screamed louder as another orgasm took her. The tight convulsions of her pussy grabbed Ross like a fist, provoking his own explosive climax in just three thrusts.

They came back down to earth together. Ross realized he had collapsed on top of her once again. Julia was struggling for breath and laughing as they parted, Ross falling to his side, pulling her with him. He silently rejoiced when he felt her curl into his chest, her soft hair, damp with perspiration, covering him like a blanket.

“How did I do?” she asked softly, after a few moments.

“Do?” His brain was a jumble after the most incredible climax of his life.

“With my masturbation lesson?” She giggled lightly. “That was the next phase of the research, wasn’t it?”

Damn the research.

Did she seriously think this was just a game? He was coming like an untried schoolboy every time he got inside her. Every time he left her body, he felt an unceasing yearning to get right back in. How the hell could she honestly believe this was simply a snowy afternoon’s entertainment?

Shaking himself, he looked over her head to see the snow still falling. He had time. By the looks of the weather, lots of it. He’d keep to the plan. If she wanted to continue calling it research, that’s what they’d do. Soon, he’d have her so ensnared in his web of desire and passion, she’d never want to leave.

God—he hoped so, anyway. He no longer had any doubt that Jules was his soul mate.

“Yeah, it was, and you did great, Brown Eyes. Just great.”

Chapter Six

Ross awoke several hours later to the sound of fingers tapping a keyboard at a frantic pace.

Glancing over, he saw Julia, just as he’d seen her a thousand times in the past, one leg bent beneath her as the images in her mind flew through her fingers and onto the computer. The only difference was this time, rather than wearing her usual fleece pants and long-sleeved T-shirt, she was draped in only a blanket. A blanket that, fortunately for him, had been forgotten as it lay around her waist, leaving her breasts bare. A glass of iced tea sat untouched beside her as she focused on the pages.

How much of what she wrote was derived from their researching?

The last forty-eight hours had been the most wonderful—and exhausting—of his life and, for the first time since he’d become her editor nearly a decade ago, he found himself overwhelmed with curiosity about what she was writing. Ross had never had any trouble waiting until the final manuscript to see her work.

Julia was an extremely talented writer. She would make her plot proposal, he’d tweak it, and then he’d simply wait while she worked her magic. He was desperate to see what she thought of their explorations during the past twenty-four hours. To see if she was as heady from the experience as he was.

“Well, well, well,” he said, when he couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. “Looks like you’ve broken through the writer’s block. That is your erotic romance novel you’re tapping away at, isn’t it?”

Her instant blush answered his question and he suspected she was indeed putting some, if not all, of their actions into words.

“Want me to take a look, see if you need to do any tweaking?” he asked nonchalantly. He rose from the bed to cross the room to where she sat at the desk.

“No,” she said quickly, saving and exiting from the file. “Not until I’m finished. You know that.”

“Well,” Ross teased, “I thought since we were collaborating on this project, you might want me to take a more hands-on approach.”

“More hands-on than what you’ve been doing? I don’t think I can handle any more of your hands.”

Delighted with her jest, Ross bent down and impulsively placed a quick kiss to the end of her nose. “Don’t let me interrupt your creative flow. I’ll just be in the kitchen, slaving over your lunch.”

“Actually,” she said, “I was about to take a break. I’ll help you. I think there are sandwich fixings in the fridge. Even we can handle that.”

“Sounds good,” he replied, grabbing sliced turkey, lettuce, tomatoes, mayo and some leftover bacon from the refrigerator. “If you look in that cabinet by the sink, I think there’s a big bag of potato chips.”

Together they made and devoured their lunch, washing the sandwiches down with ice-cold soda and talking about insignificant things—people at the publishing company, the weather, the latest episode of a crime series they were both addicted to.

“I suppose I should get back to work,” Julia said as they washed off their lunch plates. “I did come here to write a book.”

“Yeah, well,” Ross began, “I know you hate distractions while you’re working. Tell you what. I’ll leave you to it, while I go tackle some of that snow.”

“But it’s still snowing.”

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