METHOD

by Kate Stewart

  He’s good at it. Too good. And my only thought is more. I’m floating high with him, the intoxicating thrusts of his tongue dizzying me to the point of recklessness. When he closes the kiss, he keeps his hold on me, his lips lingering so close I feel all the breath of his words.

  “I’m pretty sure I’ve never tasted anything that good,” he whispers.

  I shake my head in his hands. “You still hate the wine.”

  “I’m a changed man,” he assures me, pressing his lips again softly to mine before he lets me go. “I don’t need a taste of anything else.”

  “That’s quite a compliment, even if it’s complete bullshit,” I muse, still electrified with what just happened. I’m proud of myself for being able to keep it together.

  “Mila,” he whispers gruffly as wetness gathers at my core. I’m soaked, and it only took a kiss. “Tell me you don’t feel this.”

  “Oh, I feel it, Mr. Hollywood, but you need to slow down, or you’re going to give me the wrong idea.”

  He lifts a shoulder, his eyes alight with something I can’t make out. “Think whatever you want. I know what I think.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I think this became a date,” he whispers, lifting his thumb and tracing my lower lip.

  “It was always a date.”

  “Right about that,” he says, leaning in again to capture my lower lip. Clit pulsing, I press myself against him, taking his kiss and threading my fingers into his thick hair. We taste and tease for endless minutes, our tongues growing urgent as he slides his hands down my body and pulls me closer to him. We’re making out like teenagers, glued to each other in an exploration of hands and meshing tongues. When the ache between my thighs grows unbearable, I pull away and sit across from him on the edge of the blanket putting some much-needed space between us. I’m already in over my head with Lucas Walker.

  “You don’t want to be over there,” he states matter-of-factly. He’s absolutely right. Instead of denying anything, I decide to be forthcoming.

  “If this is just going to be sex, I have no problem with it, but it would be a good idea to know, now.”

  “Why?”

  “Where can this go?”

  “Anywhere we decide it can go,” he says easily, reaching for me and I shy away from his touch. His next order is practically a growl. “Get back over here.”

  “No.”

  He grins, his eyes playful. “I’m just as weirded out as you are.”

  “Doesn’t seem like it.” I straighten my dress, tossing my hair back.

  He takes a sip of his wine before staring into his glass, his voice lower when he speaks. “Like I said, I’m a changed man.”

  “Oh, you think it happens, just like that?” I snap my fingers.

  He waits for my attention which I can’t help but give. His presence commands it. And his words hit well. “Didn’t it?”

  I cover my smile with my hand, shaking my head. “You’re crazy.”

  “I don’t disagree. And you’re radiant, Mila.” He covers his heart with his hand, and I melt a little more.

  I look over at him through my lashes. “See how good wine is doing for you? Just a few sips and you’ve upped your game.”

  That earns me an eye roll. “Sure you don’t want to come back over here?” That allure is the reason millions of women flock to the theater, for just a chance to drink him in, and why this is all too consuming. I realize because of it, I’ll probably never have a decent date again. They’ll all fail in comparison. I’m teetering on the edge of indecision. It was either a catastrophic mistake to accept his date or easily the best decision I’ve ever made. I hate the power he holds, and I refuse to hand it all over.

  “I’m good where I am, thanks.”

  I want to be over there, sucking his tongue, rubbing against his cock. I can see the outline of it in his jeans. He’s hard as stone and looks well endowed, which has me further reeling.

  There are a few things in my life I take seriously, one of them is wine, the other is the presence of a beautiful cock and both typically bring me immense pleasure. I don’t shy away from sex when the man doesn’t have the ability to hurt me. This doesn’t seem the case with Lucas Walker. I’m a little under his spell and more than curious as to how this will play out. He’s treating me like a lady, and that’s rare. I want more of his royal treatment.

  “Did you break up with Laura Lee last night?”

  His gaze drifts to the grass at the edge of our shared blanket and he plucks a little, studying it between his fingers. Long dark lashes skim over his prominent cheekbones before he lifts his eyes to mine. “No, that ended over a month ago. The statement last night made it public official.”

  “Not the commitment type?”

  Damn Mila, subtle much?

  He captures his top lip with his teeth to try to hide his grin at my candor.

  “Just forget I asked that.”

  He plucks more grass. “I’m of a different mind-set than I was ten years ago. Women have come in and out of my life for different reasons. One of them was my greatest teacher, others have helped me in lifesaving ways, so I have great love and respect for them.”

  “So definitely not a one-woman man,” I say, processing that.

  “Actually, aside from a few fun nights way back when, that’s exactly the case for me.”

  “Did you…release that statement for me to see?”

  “Partially, yes.”

  “Why?”

  “In case you were looking for a reason to get out of our date. And because she deserves that respect before I’m seen in public with anyone else.”

  He’s a gentleman.

  I sink a little further under. He plans on being seen with me. It’s something. I’ve never needed so much reassurance from anyone I was on a first date with, but these circumstances are different. People can say they would act differently in this situation all they want. Before Lucas showed up at my door, I’m sure I would be another guilty party who’d dole out advice to someone in my position to treat him like he’s just another person. But he’s not, at least not yet. He’s a movie star and a wet dream to many, to me. And having him in the flesh, having his lips on mine isn’t something I can just ignore. The whole situation is very fairy tale, and that’s putting it mildly. And the knowledge that he’s just as attracted is a whole other level.

  I hadn’t let myself web search further than the alert because I knew I would embarrass myself asking questions unearthed due to browsing. If I wanted to really know Lucas, I wasn’t going to find out who he was through his Wikipedia page. Still, the whole thing was too surreal to process in just a day.

  “More rosé?”

  “Sure,” he says, resigned to the limits I’ve set, before relaxing back into position and extending his glass.

  We drank the bottle of rosé and left just after sunset. It was sublime, easily the best first date of my life. He couldn’t stop touching me, and I couldn’t stop letting him. By the time we were standing on my porch to bid each other goodnight, I still had no idea if the man had taken a fancy to wine, but I was thoroughly seduced. As he crowded me at my door with relentless lips, I forced myself back. The idea of his profession, of what he was capable of and that any part of our date was contrived gnawed at me as I stood a willing victim to his charms. Only time would tell.

  I’d read somewhere that Leo DiCaprio looked through a Victoria’s Secret catalog to pick out his next conquest and the idea disgusted me. Though that story may be total bullshit, if any man in Hollywood had the power to do something so objectifying as point to the woman he wanted, and have his invitation accepted, it was Lucas Walker. He could have practically any woman he wanted, and I wanted that woman to be me. And though before our date, I thought I had healthy confidence, we didn’t make much sense. That idea alone had me closing my door with a sigh and insecurity rearing its ugly head in a way I wasn’t comfortable with. I could’ve invited him in, fucked him and made him a memory. I could have l
ured him into my bed with a decision that for one night, in the city of stars, I shared my body with one of the brightest. But I didn’t. Instead, I let myself hope to fall without any sort of net. Where that drop of insecurity could eventually turn into a sea of doubt that I could drown in. I rose to the challenge of falling for Lucas Walker praying he’d prove to be worth it.

  Besides, I wasn’t the only one smitten. After that night, there was no way Lucas would ever let me consider him a memory. Ever. I just didn’t know it yet.

  Mila

  PRESENT

  Spotting a comfortable lounger on the brick deck of the inn, I settle in as morning light begins to blanket the vast canvas in front of me. It’s then that some semblance of peace wafts over me. Cocooned in the dream-like setting, I bat away the guilt of unplugging. I’d turned off my phone when I’d arrived here, not out of spite, but because of temptation. For so long I’ve counted on my marriage as my grounding, my foundation. It’s what’s expected when you accept the invitation to share your life with someone. But it’s a single question that gnaws at me now. Without Lucas, without the life we built together, who would I be?

  I swore myself independent when we met. I’d never looked for my happiness in someone else. My dreams were my mission to accomplish. Somehow, in the years Lucas and I have shared together, our relationship, and his career had become a crutch for me, and that was what I feared most when we got together. With faith, I made the decision to step away and travel with Lucas, to be his partner, and that had drastically backfired. Even though I had already taken measures to kick-start my career back into motion, the thought of going at life again without the man who had molded and shaped me for the last six years to rely on him, to trust him, has me paralyzed. He’d worked so hard to earn that trust, asked for that reliance, and I gave it to him wholeheartedly.

  Where are we supposed to draw the line? How do you trust, rely on, love, and build all the while keeping your sense of self? These are answers I need to figure out before I can face him. Lucas was always resilient when it came to us and any obstacle that revealed itself along the way. Our chemistry was addicting, his refusal to let it be only that was what drew me in further. Nothing about our courting was typical, and Lucas did most of the grunt work. He was invested in us from the beginning and proved as much after our first date when I got my first glimpse of real Hollywood.

  He hadn’t called or texted in the days following our ‘non’ date, and I’d been trying my best not to obsess over it. I’d been in two long-term relationships in my life and had never considered permanency with either guy, at least it hadn’t been at the forefront of my mind. My mother instilled in me that it was more important to grow in my skin before I commit myself to anyone else. It’s sound advice, it keeps me subjective…and mostly single. The truth is I’ve been holding out. My relationship with my ex, Daniel, had been easy, too easy. We had a lot in common. On paper, we would have been perfect had we lasted, but in the end and after years of my life with him, I realized he was a snapshot, not part of the bigger picture. We grew comfortable, and I got bored. I vowed I would never waste my time on anyone else I could do without. Playing it safe in love kills optimism for something more. I’d wasted half my twenties with men who it would never have occurred to me to love in the forever sense. And I wasn’t about to repeat that same mistake. Maybe I’d been too busy growing into myself to concentrate on what love meant to me, but I was awake now, and I didn’t want to close my eyes anymore to the desires of my heart, which had laid dormant far too long. I wanted something intense, something more exciting, consuming. Getting swept up in an affair with Hollywood royalty wouldn’t be the worst thing for my flavorless love life, and from our last date it was obvious Lucas was a robust salt.

  Every night for the past four days I’ve gone to bed with my fingers between my legs, exhausting myself with want. Even if I never heard from him again, it was better to picture his face in my fantasies than any other. Growing up in LA, it’s become second nature to spot screen stars and not give it a second thought. But it’s completely different to be on the receiving end of their attention, their affection. To find yourself at the center of their universe. It’s addicting to get intimate with someone so seemingly untouchable, an adrenaline spike like no other. But it isn’t so much Lucas’s status as it is the way he looks at me, and the heady touch of his lips, the breath I lose when he pulls away and our eyes connect. It’s intoxicating, so much so I can’t play indifferent to it, not that he lets me. It may be foolish to want more, but I can’t fault myself for it. Lucas Walker is my new wet dream, and I just want to linger in it a little longer. Finally accepting that our date is going to remain a permanent daydream, I resign myself to be grateful for the experience. As soon as I make that decision my phone rings, his deep voice covering me in a thin veil of expectation. As much as I like him, I will not be an afterthought.

  “Mila, how are you, beauty?”

  Curious as to why you haven’t called me in four days.

  Instead of being petty, my reply is guarded but polite. “Just about to take a shower and uncork a bottle.”

  “Save that cork. I’m sending a car for you.”

  “Oh? Another private lesson?”

  “Such a smartass. I want to see you. I’m leaving tomorrow, and I could use some advice.”

  “On what?”

  He pauses a few seconds.

  “Lucas, are you there?”

  “Yes, I’m here, sorry. I’ll ask for it when you get here.”

  “This is a conditional solicitation for advice?”

  There’s a barrage of noise in the background, and I hear his muffled voice as if he’s put his phone to his chest.

  Annoyed with only half his attention and his lack of manners—in more ways than one—my irritation leaks when I speak. “Do you need to call me back?”

  “No, no. And yes, you have to be present. So will you come?” Though distracted, the hopeful lift in his voice brings me back to our blanket and the shy, vulnerable side of him I find so attractive.

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why do you want to see me?”

  “You want a reason?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Fine, I’ll take the bait because…I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  I smile at myself in the bathroom mirror. It’s a start.

  “What exactly is it that you can’t stop thinking about?”

  I can sense his grin over the line. “I can make you blush, Mila. It’s a beautiful sight. I bet you’re doing it now thinking along the same lines as I am. I bet you can feel that warmth creeping up your neck as I speak.”

  Studying my reflection, I note the rapid rise and fall of my chest and the light pink hue burning my cheeks. The silver-tongued bastard has seduced me in seconds by phone.

  “I won’t be so easily swayed.”

  “Oh, don’t I know it.” The melodic rumble of his laugh sounds over the line. “What if I promise to put in the work?”

  I hold my tongue making him wait for it.

  “You there?”

  “Give me half an hour for the car?”

  Satisfaction coats his reply. “My driver, Paul, is already there. Come out when you’re ready.”

  I head to my living room, peeking through my blinds as a blacked-out sedan comes into view. This scenario leaves me a little unimpressed. “So very Hollywood, Mr. Walker.”

  “Couldn’t be helped.”

  Walking back into my bathroom, I hit the speaker and start to undress.

  “And what if I had plans tonight?”

  “You just told me you didn’t.”

  “What if I did?”

  “Well, then I would hope you would break them. I know it’s a little presumptuous, but you’re coming, so it’s settled.”

  “I can change my mind.”

  “Don’t. And Mila?”

  The sound of my name on his lips coats my insides.

  “Yes?” It
’s there, the anticipation, the adrenaline spike.

  “I’ve missed you.”

  He sounds so sincere that I’m stunned silent. My heart starts beating in a beautiful rhythm as I kick my panties aside. It’s a good thing I’m speechless because his silence tells me he’s ended the call.

  “Could’ve fooled me, Hollywood,” I mutter drawing the shower curtain.

  “I heard that,” he says with a chuckle. “See you soon.” And then he does hang up.

  Palming my face, I can’t help but free the growing smile underneath.

  Nearly an hour later, I’m chauffeured into the studio parking lot, thankful I’m not overdressed. Clad in dark jeans, black ankle boots, and an off-the-shoulder shirt, it’s just casual enough. My dark hair is down in waves that end just past my shoulders. I’ve smoked out my eyes to match their color and thoroughly glossed my lips. I never thought to ask where I was going. Excitement spikes when I take in the darkened lot, though it’s hardly deserted. Someone is bustling around every corner. In a way, it’s what I expected. A series of buildings that hold executive offices and stages scattered along the lot. We glide past streets full of production warehouses when the car comes to a stop to one of the same. A building marked Stage 7. A woman who seems to be around my age and is all smiles waits for me at the curb. As I take the driver’s hand in a guided exit from the car, she’s sputtering off niceties when she greets me. She’s dressed casually in short shorts, a collared tee, and has her dark blonde hair tightly braided, a walkie-talkie in one hand and a clipboard in the other. “Hi, Mila. I’m Nova, Lucas’s assistant.”

  “Hi,” I parrot back shouldering my purse and thanking the driver, Paul, who’d spoken only two sentences since he’d picked me up. Surveying the lot, I look back to Nova. “I’m weirded out,” I tell her honestly.

  “I can imagine. I was too the first time. Unfortunately, it’s rather depressing when you actually see the process. I think it ruins the magic. He’s doing you an injustice by bringing you here. It’s a lot of lights, sound, and position, and that’s on a good day.”