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scorpion.
    She acted suitably impressed with his professionally decorated apartment, designed to feel like a home even if it really wasn’t much of one. She sat in the large, structured sofa, among a smattering of gunmetal-and-copper-hued pillows.
    “Can I make you more comfortable?” Jack asked, unknotting his tie.
    She shook her head, suddenly bashful now that she was in his domain.
    “Can I make you more un comfortable?” he inquired with a wink.
    “You don’t make me uncomfortable,” she said.
    He sat opposite her on the industrial-looking stone-and-steel coffee table, which the decorator had insisted he spend a small fortune on, and circled her knee with his fingers. “No? Not even just a little?”
    Her breathing changed slightly, enough for Jack to notice. He pulled the tie from his neck and draped it across her wrist, letting the silk drag over her skin. “Would you like it if I tied your hands with this?”
    She shrugged. Inwardly Jack wanted to yawn. He was so tired of the “I’m into what you’re into” games these gold-digger types played.
    He arched an eyebrow, questioning her one last time. “Only if you’re into it.”
    “I’m yours,” she said. Something about the simplicity of her words, the looseness with which she tossed them into the air, made it an obvious lie. She wasn’t his, no matter how tight he made the knot in the silk around her wrists.
    “Just say the word…” he whispered in her ear, sweeping his lips over the soft skin of her neck. She responded with a nod. He pressed his lips to her collarbone and began to unbutton her blouse, peeling it from her shoulders. Her bra was sheer with lacy edges, perfectly feminine. Jack enjoyed the sight of a woman in fine lingerie. He kept her bra intact, licking a nipple with languid strokes through the thin fabric. Reaching down, he pulled at the zipper on her skirt, and eased it over her long legs. The visual was right—a beautiful woman with her hands tied behind her delicate neck, writhing with anticipation on his sofa in little more than her bra and panties.
    “You look beautiful,” he said, drawing aside the sliver of lace that covered her cunt, and pressing two fingers to her, sampling her readiness. “I want to see what you look like when I make you come.”
    Soon, he’d fuck her hard and watch her bite her lip and scream out for more. Yes, the visual was good. It would do the trick for a few hours and help him forget about the trapped feeling he carried with him so much of the time. He grinned as she arched against his fingers and he added his thumb to make slow work of her clit. With his other hand he reached into his pocket for a condom, about ready to rid himself of his pants and be inside her.
    He’d gotten exactly what he wanted, hadn’t he? So why did it feel less and less like it was what he needed?
     

Chapter Three
     
     
    Five o’clock. Not even the birds were awake yet. Spencer kissed Rory on the bit of forehead still visible among the swirling sea of auburn scattered across her face and pillow. Rory usually slept like the dead, but that morning she caught his thigh with seeking fingers.
    “Be careful,” she slurred, her mouth full of marbles.
    “Sure thing, sleepyhead.” He kissed her cheek and nibbled his way to her lips.
    “You gotta go right now?”
    He felt her lips purse against his as she spoke. Darkness blanketed the room, but he couldn’t miss that pretty little pout that always made him melt.
    “Maybe I can steal a few more minutes if I skip picking up breakfast.”
    Rory giggled through her yawn. “I wouldn’t want you to go hungry.”
    Spencer lowered himself onto the bed. “Never that, baby.”
    When could he ever say no to her? When did he ever want to? Cream cheese bagels were overrated. A mouthful of Rory was the best way to start his morning.
    She kicked off the covers and stretched her long body against the mattress. He didn’t wait for her to finish yawning. He dived between those