The Starfish Method

by JB Heller

  I tip my head back, resting it against his shoulder as his hands trace light patterns over my skin. “That feels nice,” I murmur.

  “Good,” he says in a husky whisper. “Because I’m going to be touching you every chance I get.” Then his lips press to mine, gentle and sweet.

  A few minutes later, we’re sitting at the break-room table when I ask Sam, “So, what did you want to talk about?”

  He wipes his mouth with a napkin then clears his throat. “Well, you asked why Tom and I talked to the bartender before approaching you and Amy that night. The truth is . . .” He strums his fingertips on the table and looks away for a moment.

  “Sam, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fine. Just say it, ’cause you’re making me nervous.”

  His eyes immediately dart back to mine. “Sorry. You’re probably right. At least, I hope you are.”

  That sentence does not soothe my nerves at all.

  I stare at Sam, waiting for him to put me out of my misery and tell me what the hell this is all about. When he doesn’t continue and I can’t stand the silence any longer, I tell him, “Out with it, man! I’m getting all jittery.”

  “Okay, so earlier in the night, I overheard two guys talking about a woman they had both dated. They were saying how great things were in bed, then all of a sudden, it changed, and the relationship was over within a few months. That she kind of forced them to end it. Actually, it was more like they implied she manipulated the situation so they would want out.”

  Sam continues his story, but I’m no longer listening. Two guys discussing a woman they both dated for a few months. Dear God, he’s talking about Paul and Brent. They were there that night. My embarrassing run-in with Brent plays out behind my closed eyelids. Sam only approached me because he thought I was a sure thing. I want to crawl into a hole and die.

  “Hannah.” Sam’s voice drags me back into the moment.

  My stomach churns, and I place an unsteady hand over it. “I think you should leave.” I don’t even want to hear the rest of what he has to say. My head starts pounding, and I get to my feet.

  “No, please hear me out. I wanted to have this conversation with you before we were intimate, but it just didn’t happen that way.”

  He reaches for me, but I pull away. “Don’t touch me.”

  His hand drops back to his side, and the pleading in his eyes nearly breaks me.

  “Did you seek me out because you thought I was an easy lay?” A bitter laugh bursts from my lips, because I totally was. I’ve never moved this fast before. “Well, congratulations, you got what you wanted. You can go now.”

  He shakes his head. “You’re not listening to me. Yes, I wanted to sleep with you, but that’s not all. You have no idea what it’s like for a man like me to find someone to spend time with.”

  My eyes widen at his outrageous statement. “Are you serious? Do you think I didn’t notice the women practically drooling over you when we went out? You could literally take your pick,” I scoff.

  The deep blue of his irises flicker with annoyance. “Do you know how much I’m worth, Hannah?”

  I roll my eyes. “I don’t care about your stupid money, Sam.”

  “Exactly.” He points at me. “You know, my last girlfriend faked a pregnancy to try to make me marry her. It had nothing to do with me as a person.” He loosens a frustrated growl and runs his hands through his hair. “All I wanted was to be with a woman who doesn’t give a shit about who I am and who wants to hang out and fool around for a while. And to not have to worry about her planning a future that has nothing to do with me and everything to do with my money.”

  I’m stunned into silence. For a whole minute, I just look at him, his words running on a loop through my head. I can feel my frown deepening as it all sinks in. “What the hell kind of women have you been dating?”

  Like an invisible weight has been lifted from his shoulders, he shrugs. Light finally returns to his gaze. “The wrong ones, obviously.”

  “No shit,” I blurt.

  He chuckles then reaches for me again. This time, I let him take my hand, and his thumb caresses the underside of my wrist as he speaks. “I didn’t tell you this to hurt you. I wanted you to know; I’m aware you don’t want a long-term relationship, and I’m okay with that. But instead of things having to get bad or awkward between us, how about we make a deal?”

  I arch my brows. “What kind of deal?”

  “When either of us is ready for this thing we’ve got going on to end, we talk about it. Let’s go out on a high note and part ways as friends.”

  That actually sounds really good. I smile at him then push onto my toes. “You have yourself a deal,” I murmur against his lips, then I kiss him.

  Her tongue parts my lips, and I wrap my arms around her tiny waist, drawing her body closer. I love the feel of her pressed against me. My dick starts getting the wrong idea as blood pumps south, and he begins growing in my trousers.

  “Seriously?” Hannah pulls her lips away from mine, her eyes darting to my burgeoning hard-on.

  I shrug. “He likes you as much as I do.”

  Dimples pop in her cheeks as she smiles, then she waggles her brows and lowers herself to her knees before me.

  My eyes widen. “Holy shit. What are you doing?”

  “What’s it look like I’m doing?” she murmurs in a husky whisper that has my dick straining to get to her.

  I release a pent-up breath. “You don’t have to do that, Hannah.” My dick is yelling at me to shut my damn mouth, but I had to say it.

  She smirks. “Soon you’ll learn, Sammy, I don’t do anything I don’t want to.” Then, she lowers my zipper and frees my cock.

  It throbs in her small hand. Her eyes meet mine as she leans forward and takes me into her mouth.

  My fingers lock in her hair, and she sucks me to the back of her throat. “Christ,” I groan.

  Her free hand cups my balls, and she rolls them in her palm while massaging my taint with her fingertips. My hips surge forward—I can’t help it—and then she moans—I definitely can’t stop doing it.

  Less than five minutes later, I come in her sweet mouth then help her back to her feet. A few strands of her long, pink hair hang in her eyes, and I tuck them back behind her ear then kiss her soundly.

  When I pull away, she grins at me, and I know I’m mirroring it.

  The next few days fly by with nothing more than a few texts shared between us as we’re both busy with work. I’m anxious to see her on Saturday, but Friday afternoon, I get a text from Hannah, telling me she has to cancel our dinner.

  To say I’m less than happy about it is an understatement. But she says it can’t be helped.

  It’s a full week before we’ll get to see each other in person again, but we’ve been video-calling almost daily. Which is what we’re doing right now.

  “And this is Leviathan,” she chirps, turning her phone around to face a huge fish tank that I somehow missed when I was there the other week. “Levi, say hi,” she tells the lobster.

  I laugh. “Wow, I thought you were kidding about having a pet crustacean.”

  The phone whips back around to Hannah’s face. She frowns. “Who would joke about having the best pet in the world?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, chuckling at the confused expression on her beautiful face. “Are we still good for breakfast tomorrow?”

  “Yep, I’ll meet you at your fancy-ass building at five,” she says, grinning. “Okay, I’ve gotta run. See you tomorrow, sexy pants.”

  She ends the call before I even get to tell her how awful the nickname is.

  Hannah and I continue to see each other for the next few weeks whenever we can. Between my work at English Enterprises and Hannah’s busy schedule at The Aquarium, it’s hard to make time for each other, but we do.

  It’s mostly been breakfasts since we’re both early risers who work long hours. We’ve squeezed in a couple more lunch dates in the back room at The Aquarium, as well. Then, Hannah ca
me to surprise me at the office between meetings two days ago, wearing a fitted trench coat—and nothing else. . .

  Tonight, we’re finally having that dinner we tried for weeks ago. I’m waiting out in front of Alejandro’s for her to arrive when none other than Camille strides past with her next potential husband. Poor sucker.

  Upon noticing me, she pauses. “Samuel, what a pleasant surprise. This is Marco Valentine. You’ve heard of Valentine Construction, yes?”

  I roll my eyes. I’ve known Marco for years; we went to college together. I tip my chin in his direction, ignoring the viper at his side. “Careful with this one. She’ll go to extraordinary lengths to lock you down.”

  “How dare you!” Camille screeches at the same time Marco takes a step away from her.

  He eyes her before his gaze shifts to me. “Something I should know, brother?”

  “Don’t listen to him, Marco. He’s just bitter because I ended things with him,” Camille sneers.

  An unladylike snort comes from behind her, and she spins to glare at the eavesdropper.

  Hannah steps around her and over to my side, pushing onto her toes to press a kiss to my cheek. “Sorry I’m late, sexy pants. Traffic was a bitch.”

  My hand slides around her waist as I tug her closer and drop a kiss atop her head. “No problem, sweet cheeks.”

  Marco smirks, and Camille’s jaw drops. “Who is she?” Camille demands.

  I open my mouth to tell her to mind her business, but Hannah presses a hand to my chest, silencing me.

  A sweet smile lights her face, and she steps forward, extending a hand to Camille. “I’m Hannah, the woman who doesn’t have to fake a pregnancy to secure future dates with Sammy here.”

  Camille’s eyes flare, and she launches for Hannah. I yank Hannah back behind me as Marco goes for Camille, wrapping his hands around her biceps and dragging her away.

  He looks over his shoulder to me, eyes wide and questioning.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” I mouth, and he nods his acknowledgment.

  Almost a dozen eyes are on us now. Great, just great. “The spectacle is over. You may carry on with your evenings,” I snap, and the small crowd disperses.

  I turn to Hannah, taking in her beautiful face. She makes me feel so many things all at once. I have to grit my teeth to stop myself from saying all the things I know she doesn’t want to hear because this is temporary.

  The smile she was wearing fades at my expression. “Sam, wha—"

  My fingers glide over her cheeks and into her hair. Keep it light, Sam. “You are all kinds of trouble, woman. What am I going to do with you?”

  Nerves zip through my body like an electric current. The way Sam is looking at me. . .it’s almost feral.

  I lick my lips, and his gaze follows the action. “Umm, I don’t know. Take me inside this fancy-ass restaurant and feed me?”

  He shakes his head slowly. The glint in his eyes makes my lady-bits tingle in awareness. What is it with this man and his ability to turn the temperature up with just a look?

  “Ah, Sam, are we going to go inside? It’s awful hot out here . . .”

  The corner of his mouth hooks in a panty-melting grin. “How did you know she’s the one who faked the pregnancy?”

  I shrug. “Lucky guess.”

  “And if it wasn’t her? What would you have done?”

  I shrug again. “Would it have mattered? The way she was talking down to you was enough to piss me off. Then I heard the little warning you passed on to her date and knew she’d definitely done something to deserve the look of distaste you were casting toward her.”

  “I see,” is all he says.

  I frown, and he removes his fingers from where they’re buried in my hair to run his thumbs over the lines marring my forehead. “Watching you defend my honor was the biggest turn-on.”

  My grin is instant. “Everything turns you on, you horndog.”

  “Only when it comes to you. I’m not usually this bad. I swear. I’m sure if you give me a couple more weeks, he’ll calm down.”

  Wrapping my hands around his collar, I tug his face to my level. “Now why would I ever want that?” I whisper over his lips then press mine to his.

  His hands are back in my hair, tilting my head the way he wants it. I melt into his hard chest, loving every little bit of his attention.

  He breaks the kiss, panting against my swollen lips. “I want to take you back to my place and show you just how much I liked that little show. But I promised you food, and I know how you feel about steak. This place has the best steaks in the city. So, I’ll feed you first, then I’ll feast on you.”

  His words stoke my already raging libido. “Okay,” I murmur.

  His hands drag over my neck, along my collarbone, then slide down my exposed arms to take my hands. “I like this dress,” he says.

  I look at my simple black, strapless dress and the shiny, red-bow belt at my waist that matches my killer heels. “Thanks. Now stop complimenting me so we can go eat.”

  Sam smiles and shakes his head slightly. “Yes, ma’am.” He drops one of my hands and leads me inside the restaurant by my other.

  The moment we step inside, all eyes are on us—or I should say, me. And not in a nice way, either. I swallow and look at my feet when one woman’s remark meets my ears. “Oh, how sweet, English is slumming it with the help this evening. I heard she works at Thomas’s new establishment.”

  Sam’s eyes narrow on the woman, and she meets his stare head-on, no shame in her face. She meant what she said and doesn’t care that I heard it.

  It takes me a moment to decide how I want to deal with the crude, assessing judgment of the other patrons. I can either feel ashamed of everything I have worked so hard for, or I can straighten my backbone and show them their words mean as much to me as they themselves do.

  Inhaling a deep breath, I raise my head high and smile directly at the woman. Then, I smack Sam’s ass and say, “Lead the way, hot stuff. This two-dollar hooker wants a steak.”

  Mouths gape and murmurs ensue as Sam chuckles and tugs me to a table in a dark corner, far away from all the prying eyes.

  As soon as we’re seated and our drink orders have been placed, Sam looks at me and, yet again, shakes his head. “Trouble,” he mumbles under his breath, a huge shit-eating grin plastered on his handsome face.

  “What a lovely bunch of people you seem to know, Sammy. And their manners. . .” I wave a hand in the air. “I had heard the upper crust attend etiquette lessons as children. You can certainly tell.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I might think that’s sarcasm I detect in your tone, Miss Archer,” he muses, finger tapping his chin.

  I place my hand over my chest, aghast. “Why, Mr. English, you have offended me, sir. A true lady never uses such crude modes of speech.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Of course. My sincere apologies.”

  I chuckle and relax into my plush chair. The waiter appears with our drinks and requests our meal orders. I look to Sam as we haven’t even opened our menus yet. He winks at me then hands the waiter the unused menus.

  “My usual, thank you, Terrance, by two, please. And the crème brûlée for dessert.”

  “Very well, sir,” Terrance says with a slight bow of his head, then he’s gone again.

  Over our delicious meals, we make small talk about the weather, my work, his work, and our respective upcoming schedules.

  “So, I’m not going to be able to see you this week again?” Sam asks.

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to get away during the day. Maybe we could do dinner one night?”

  He smirks. “Or I could bring you lunch again? I did quite enjoy our lunch date this week.”

  “I bet you did!” I chuckle.

  Sometime later, our plates are cleared, and the dessert is placed on the table between us. I stare at the delicate dish, and my mouth waters at the sweet caramel scent wafting toward me.

  Sam laughs lightly. “I take it you app
rove of my choices this evening then?”

  “Hell yes, I do,” I tell him, smiling brightly. “Everything has been wonderful, except for your taste in company—myself excluded, of course.”

  “To be fair, I don’t have control over who else dines here,” he says, digging a dainty silver spoon into the crème brûlée and offering it to me.

  I lean forward, and he slides the spoon into my mouth. An embarrassing moan escapes me as the exquisite flavor bursts on my tongue.

  The spoon clatters to the table. “And on that note, I think it’s time to get the check,” Sam announces.

  “But the . . .” I point at the dessert.

  “We’ll get it to go,” he says, raising one hand to signal the waiter while the other discreetly disappears under the table.

  Terrance approaches, and Sam tells him, “We’ll get the check now, please, and take the crème brûlée with us.”

  I wait till Terrance is out of earshot then ask, “Are you seriously that turned on you can’t wait until we finish?”

  He slides his hand over mine on the table. “Baby, if I have to watch you eat the rest of this crème brûlée,”—he gives my mouth a pointed stare—“we’re not going to make it home. Besides, I’d much rather feed it to you while you’re naked.”

  I have a very vivid imagination, and right now, it’s giving me some fantastic ideas regarding Hannah and that crème brûlée.

  A seductive smile tugs at her gorgeous mouth. “Why, Sammy, are you trying to tell me you have a kink that involves food?”

  “I’m pretty sure I’d be open to anything as long as it involves you naked.” I grin as a blush tints her cheeks.

  Terrance returns with the bill folder and a small box wrapped with a white bow containing our dessert. I slide a couple of hundreds in, making sure to leave him a nice tip, then take Hannah’s hand and lead her outside where my car is waiting.

  My driver opens the door for us, Hannah scoots in, and I follow, tugging her into my lap as soon as the door closes behind me. “I’ve been waiting to taste you all night,” I murmur against her slender neck.