Polished (12 page)

“Later. Come hang on the deck with me first. The sunset is just gorgeous.”

They dropped everything and slid open one of the glass doors. The sound of the ocean was something she hadn’t known she missed, until it was filling her ears again. They took a seat on two loungers that faced the water. Off in the distance a single figure popped out of the waves. The beach hooked sharply on one side and a large rock formation provided a natural screen between the Rothman property and the rest of the community. Rory waved out to the figure jogging in from the surf, splashing with long strides through the water.

Jack drew nearer, dripping wet, his board shorts stuck to his thighs, highlighting every slope of muscle. Spencer made an effort to stand, ready to greet Jack like an old buddy. Both men were smiling, happy to see the other as they joined hands in the air followed by a swift and sturdy pull to one another’s chests.

“Sorry dude, I got you all wet.”

“Some way to treat your guest,” Spencer jibed.

It caught Rory’s ear to hear his dry humor shared with Jack. That was something Spencer only did with the people he felt the most comfortable with, and Rory could count those people on one hand.

A moment passed as Jack seemed to decide on a comeback, all the while his eyes blazing across the barely there quirk of Spencer’s lip. Then suddenly Jack grabbed him into a bear hug and drenched him completely.

Spencer’s surprised laugh was only slightly louder than Rory’s.

“How’s that?” Jack said once he’d let him go.

Soaked now, Spencer returned to sitting on the lounger, the grin still fresh on his flushed face. “These Hamptons guys… No manners, I guess.”

Jack turned his attention to Rory. “Hello again,” he said with a cool hand on her shoulder. She intended to return an equally simple greeting, but somehow her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth while she inhaled the sea from his glistening skin. “You’re not opposed to getting wet, are you?”

Rory wondered if that was also an invitation. Jack appeared to have a habit of keeping things playful and vague. “Are you fishing for a hug, Jack?” Rory always preferred candor to riddles.

His grin turned lopsided. “If you’re handing them out, I’ll take one.”

Rory stood up and obliged him. The fact that she felt at home against his chest should have surprised her, but it didn’t. What made her jump was Spencer’s hand finding the shallow of her back in the moment Jack enclosed her in his arms. He rested his hand there, flat and sturdy, feeling both like ownership and generosity pressing her into Jack’s embrace. Or maybe she imagined all of that and he was simply getting her attention. A glance over her shoulder and she was still not sure.

“Rory really needed this little getaway.”

“A lady should have what she needs,” Jack said. “And right now I think she needs a drink. You too, my friend.”

Rory liked the sound of that, liked the sound of it all. “What do you have?”

“Anything, everything. A stocked bar is mandatory at my house.”

“I’ll have that beer you promised.”

“And you, Rory?” Jack crossed the veranda to the outdoor kitchen tucked into the corner next to the house.

“Whatever you’re having. I’m sure it would be more exciting than anything I’d come up with.”

“Don’t let her fool you, Jack.”

Jack smiled with boyish mischief. “Don’t worry. I know all about those bookish types.”

Rory whipped her hand to her hip and winked. “Then whatever you’re fixing, you know to make mine a double.”

He nodded with amusement. With all the sexual energy flowing around them, she could certainly use a stiff drink.

Two beers later for Spencer and Rory was still nursing the sweet but wickedly strong concoction that Jack had handed her. She lay back with her feet up while the boys were deep in discussion over the start of college football season. Cool breeze swept over her skin like an endless whisper and before long it all conspired to lull her off to sleep.

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.

Her heart was racing almost as fast as her thoughts.
Do it, do it, do it.
Suddenly she was uncertain, confused about the whole thing and she tried to quiet the screaming vixen inside her head who was goading her on. Her face burned, but this time it wasn’t the fire. She popped off of Spencer and bolted toward the water, hoping she didn’t look as unhinged as she felt.

“I want to take a dip!” Surely this was just as wild, tearing off her sundress and running into the ocean under the moon.

Her inner vixen called her a punk and went to sit in the corner.

Chapter Nine

Jack watched Spencer look down at himself, as if he needed proof that his cock was hanging out of his pants. The sight had Jack just as interested, and as much as he wanted to stuff that rock-hard shaft into his mouth, he knew he couldn’t. But he could look, for as long as it took for Spencer to tuck himself away. It seemed to take a hell of a long time. Their eyes met and Jack licked his lips while Spencer swallowed hard. Then, inhaling briskly, Jack blew out a sigh and stood up. “Umm…your cast. Do you want me to make sure she’s OK?”

“Thanks, bro. If I could do it myself…”

“Hold tight. I’ll go.” A few quick steps and Jack found her discarded dress half soaked on the wet sand. He picked it up and tossed it back toward the blanket before the surf took it away. In the fuzzy blue light he could make her out, waist deep, letting the waves crash against her.

“Rory.” It was an unusual name, the kind you’ve heard before but can’t say you know anyone who goes by it. “Rory. You OK?”

“I’m great.” She giggled in return, a nervous chirping that didn’t sound altogether sure.

Jack waded into the cool water and found her, arms wrapped around her wet bra and her hair pasted to the side of her face. Under the moonlight, she looked like a drowning fairy to him, shivering and giggling in the surf.

“Come back to the house. The jellyfish are out at night.”

“Oh,” she said, like an innocent. She seemed just that, innocent and pure. He’d looked into the eyes of so many serpents, hungry for what they could get from him; Rory’s slightly frightened expression seemed almost magical.

He put his arm around her. “You’re freezing,” he said as if it explained the reason he was holding her so tightly. The truth was it was nice to feel her close to him, like a good kind of energy he craved.

“I really don’t feel well.”

They climbed the short incline to the dry sand and the blanket where Spencer was standing, leaning on his crutch.

“Spence, I think I need to lie down.”

Spencer reached out to her face with his free hand. “You gonna be sick?”

She shook her head. “Not if I lie down. The waves…not so good.”

Spencer cursed softly under his breath.

“Don’t worry, man. I got her.” Jack wasn’t sure if Spencer would mind, but he scooped Rory up into his arms anyway. Rory hung onto him and tucked her head into his neck.