Polished Book 1

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It seemed like they had everything, but they didn’t have Jack.

Without question Spencer Hartley burns hot for his girlfriend, Rory, but his other desires are hidden down deep. He might blow things up for a living and climb mountains for kicks, but the scariest thing in his life is the truth about his sexuality.

Jack Rothman works hard and plays dirty. After long, demanding days in his family’s engineering firm, he indulges in the pleasures of silk restraints and fine wine. Lots of hot meaningless sex helps him forget that he’s suffocating, with no one to give him a reason to breathe.

When a catastrophic accident traps Spencer in a flooded subway tunnel with Jack, they need each other to survive. But something strong stirs down there in the darkness, and it’s more than their desperation to live. There’s a spark between them that’s impossible to ignore.

Rory Campbell would love to give Spencer the one thing he doesn’t have, the freedom to explore his secret desires. But how does that fit into her picture-perfect relationship? When Jack invites the couple to his sprawling Hamptons beach house, Rory realizes that she has secret desires of her own—the kind only Jack’s Dominant hand across her bare bottom can satisfy…

Excerpt:

Somewhere beneath consciousness she heard the men’s voices bouncing back and forth, seeming like a serenade of bass surrounding her. She drifted in and out of sleep on the lounger, matching voice to face and face to body…then body to body.

“Huh, what?” Rory jumped at the sudden cold on her chest.

“Babe, you spilled some of your drink,” Spencer said, reaching over with Jack’s beach towel. “What was that you gave my girlfriend, Jack?”

Rory helped him dab at the rosy-colored liquid splashed across her collarbone and staining the top of her sundress. Her eye caught Jack’s over Spencer’s shoulder.

“Sex on the Beach.” Jack blushed. “Guess it was kind of strong.”

Spencer’s gaze hadn’t left her. Mild concern knitted his brow and Rory smiled back at him. “It was good.”

“Looks like it,” he said with a tap to her nose, looking satisfied that she was okay—looking also mildly entertained by the double entendre.

“Dinner will be ready in a few. Thought we’d make a fire and eat picnic-style on the beach.”

“I could start to complain that you’re going to too much trouble—” Rory started.

“But I’d have to find a way to banish that idea from your head,” Jack interrupted. “It’s my pleasure, really. I’m returning the favor to you guys for taking me in.” He held up his hand, oddly close to Spencer’s parted lips. “And I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

Rory flashed her eyes at Spencer. Returning the favor? Was that all there was to it?

With flashlights in hand for later, they all helped bring the party down to the well-used fire pit on the beach. Rory wondered how many charred beer caps lay at the bottom of it and imagined Jack sitting with his thoughts, tossing them into the flames. He placed a few strategic pieces of driftwood and sea grass and lit a match to set a warming glow upon them in the night air.

The shish kebabs of chicken and shrimp with the chili and lime marinade Jack had whipped up were amazing—not to mention his mixology skills. Rory finished off her second cocktail with the last of her meal.

“More Sex on the Beach, please.” She giggled, waving her plastic cup in the air.

“Oh man, she is toasted,” Spencer said, easing his hand onto her knee. “Maybe I should have some too.”

Rory liked the way Jack licked his lips when Spencer said that. She felt like she could read his mind, see the flash of something thick and hot pass his face in the firelight. He sucked in a slow breath and stretched the muscles in his neck with a bit of exaggeration. “I’ll be right back with a pitcher.”

Somewhere under the haze of alcohol Rory knew exactly what she hoped would happen if they all got drunk enough. They’d all have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to notice the energy filling the air around them, bouncing from one to the other.

She wouldn’t have called it a suspicion. That would have implied guilt, and there was nothing guilty about admitting desire as far as she was concerned. Still, it had been there, sleepily coursing beneath her happy relationship for months now. Spencer was also attracted to men. Even if neither of them knew what to do with that fact, it was there, staring both of them in the face in low-hung board shorts and holding a pitcher of Sex on the Beach.

Jack dropped to his knees on the blanket and filled her cup. With her gaze darting from Jack to Spencer, she took a heavy gulp. Firelight danced over all of them in the dark, while the waves crashed on the shore just feet away. Everything else was still around them, hugging the moment with anticipation of what she was going to do about it.

“We look like pagans out here,” Rory whispered.

“At least one of us isn’t just pretending,” Jack responded, reaching over her to hand Spencer his cocktail.

“What? You think we don’t get a little wild?” Spencer said and took a sip.

Jack paused as if contemplating his next words.

The silence called out to be filled. Rory swallowed another mouthful of liquid courage and went for it. 

“Maybe sometime we’ll show you just how wild we can get.”

Jack nodded, with a guarded smile on his lips. “I’d love to see that.”

Heat flushed Rory’s entire body and she turned to search out a reaction on Spencer’s face since he’d said nothing in response. Tucked into the corner of his mouth was the sexiest smirk she’d ever seen him wear. Then Spencer reached behind her head and pulled her into a searing kiss.

Rory lost her breath within the thunder of her pounding heart. Was she about to do this? Really? And the truth whispered to her from behind the fuzzy cloud of inebriation: You want this. She wanted to show Jack how perfect they were together, to show him what an amazing lover Spencer was. But also she wanted to find out how another man could possibly fit into their pretty little picture, because at her core she knew keeping his desires in the closet was eating Spencer alive.

Spencer set her mouth free and stared into Rory’s eyes. If she pushed, he would run. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind about that. One step at a time, and a weekend of show-and-tell with Jack seemed like a good start. It all made perfect sense within the swirling logic of one-hundred-proof rum.

“Rory doesn’t mind if you watch.” Spencer didn’t look away from her, though he was talking to Jack. Rory guessed he was probably talking to her too. He flicked his tongue against her top lip. “Do you, baby?”

Maybe she knew his secrets, but he had all of hers tucked into his pocket as well. She wasn’t the type to dance on top of tables and flash the crowd her thong. Nothing about being the center of that kind of attention appealed to her in the least. But offering an intimate spectacle in the open air of the firelit beach for a man who already had a hold over both of them—yes, that was exactly the right kind of audience.

Her gaze flitted toward Jack, just to check if he was at all embarrassed by the sudden turn of events. He lay on his side, his eyes hooded yet direct. His cup rested on his lip, as if forgotten there, and his tongue danced absently on the rim.

“Do it.” It was all he said—direct and forceful in his tone. They were only two small words, but the weight he placed upon them was exactly what she needed to hear.

Her back straightened with a tingling chill of excitement on her skin. She turned herself around to face Jack and hitched her dress up so that she could straddle Spencer, careful not to jostle his healing ankle.

Jack had a front and center view. She could catch his expression in the random flickers of firelight. Rolling her hips on top of Spencer, she stared at Jack as he stared back. A moan erupted from her lips at the sight of him watching her so intently. Her pussy grew more slippery under her panties as they raked across Spencer’s cargo shorts. Jack liked what he saw all right. She liked being the reason. In that moment she forgot who she was doing all this for in the first place.

Spencer gripped the hem of her dress in his fists, threatening to expose her lacy pink panties. Rory wrapped her fingers over his knuckles and pulled his hands up her thighs, the dress retreating with them. Under her, Spencer’s cock strained against his fly. She could help him with that. Leaving his hands to wander onto her breasts, she slid down his zipper and pulled his cock from his shorts.