Blame it on the Bass: Heart of Fame, Book 6

by Lexxie Couper

  Dropping her arm, she pressed her thighs together. She wanted to tug at the hem of her shirt but didn’t. She was ninety-nine percent certain there was nothing peeking out down there. God, when was the last time she’d trimmed? “How’d you know where I lived?” she asked, mentally cringing at the blush heating her cheeks. Christ, why was she thinking about her pubic hair now? “And more to the point, what the hell are you doing here?”

  A small smile pulled at Levi’s lips. Sonja pressed her thighs harder together, her heart fast. She remembered all too easily how wonderful those lips felt on hers. And thanks to her dreams, how exquisite they felt sealed around her nipples. And down on her—

  “I called my agent,” Levi said. There was no apology in his voice, nor boast. Just a simple statement of fact. “Told him to get your address.”

  Sonja gave him a mocking face. “Oh, of course, why didn’t I think of that?”

  He gave her one back. The kind that said duh. But his smile curled a little wider, and the playful light she remembered just as well as the feel of his lips danced in his eyes. For a moment.

  A heartbeat of silence stretched between them, all the more absurd, in Sonja’s opinion, by the fact she was half-naked and he was stupidly famous and on her doorstep to begin with.

  Huffing out a sigh, she crossed her arms over her breasts. Someone had to make the first move, may as well be her. “Why did you tell your agent to get my address, Stan? Why are you here?”

  Tension stole over him at her question. The small smile on his lips and in his eyes faded. He balled his hands into fists at his side. His gaze flicked around the air above her head. “I need to ask…there’s something I want…something I’m hoping you…”

  Sonja cocked an eyebrow. Levi Levistan visibly flustered? This was a first. “Something your agent can’t procure for you?” She knew she wasn’t being easy on him. Why that was the case, she wasn’t sure. Maybe because he’d swooped back into her life from out the blue, kissing her when he had no right to do so. Making her have horny dreams about him and his boyfriend. Maybe because he was famous and had forgotten all about her.

  A cool autumn wind swirled around her bare legs, making her nipples pinch into pointed tips. Narrowing her eyes, she wriggled her arms closer to her breasts. She didn’t want him seeing her hard nipples and thinking they were that way because of him.

  But they are that way because of him. The breeze isn’t that cool, woman, and you know it.

  “Maybe you need to pay him more?” she suggested. “Isn’t that what agents are meant to be for? I know the literary agents I have to deal with all seem hell bent on getting whatever their clients want, and none of my authors are as famous as you.”

  “Your authors?”

  “Oh, that’s right. We haven’t spoken for over two decades, have we?” She didn’t hide her mocking tone. “All we’ve done is sing together, snog in public and then had some weird threesome-argument thing in a crowded bar.”

  She wanted to sound scathing. Instead, her voice cracked on the word threesome. Heat flooded her cheeks and she had to fight the urge to fidget. The second the word rolled off her tongue a memory of her dream involving her, Levi and his boyfriend doing…stuff…popped into her head.

  Ignoring the unsettling image—yeah, right—she jutted out her chin. “So, a quick catch up, what do you say? I’m an editor for an erotic romance publisher here in Sydney. I read smut for a living. I don’t have a boyfriend at the moment, not even a gay one. My last steady relationship was eight months ago with my old personal trainer until I discovered he was actually married—should have known something was sus when the only place we went to eat was McDonald’s. I love karaoke, I discovered my first grey hair last week and my goldfish died the day after.” She cocked an eyebrow. “And you’re famous. And gay. And in a relationship. So mind telling me why you’re here now? Because frankly, Stan, I can’t for the life of me figure it out and my legs are starting to get cold.”

  Levi regarded her in typical Levi fashion. Without a sound, revealing nothing.

  She blew out a breath. She could stand here for the rest of the morning letting his presence torment her if she allowed herself. And torment her it was. Because for all her feisty mocking, a part of her brain, the part still completely affected by the arousing power of her dreams, wanted Levi to tell her he was on her doorstep because he wanted her.

  Sexually. Emotionally. Physically. Wanted to continue what they’d started last night.

  And that want was just asking for trouble. And heartache. Sonja would rather let her gropey boss feel her up again then let herself in for that kind of heartache. She may be a sexual deviant, if her dreams were anything to judge, but she wasn’t a masochist, not when it came to her heart. And Levi could wreak utter havoc on her heart if she let him. He already had a lifetime ago when teenage hormones had ruled their bodies and minds and he’d been her first everything.

  She stared at him, frustrated and exasperated and something else she didn’t want to examine.

  Hope? Foolish, stupid, deluded—

  “I want you to sleep with me.”

  Sonja’s stomach dropped at Levi’s declaration. Prickling heat razed her entire body. Her nipples puckered. Her pussy throbbed. She blinked. “Sorry?”

  Surely she’d misheard him?

  He took a step closer to her, his gaze holding her frozen to the spot. “I want you to sleep with me. And Corbin.”

  Sonja burst out laughing. She stumbled back a step, holding her arms to her belly. “Oh boy, Stan. I see your sense of humour is still messed up.”

  Levi crossed the threshold in one step and closed the door behind her. “I’m not joking, Sonny.”

  The bubbling guffaws died in Sonja’s chest. She frowned, her brain refusing to comprehend the words coming out of Levi’s mouth. Holding up a hand, she backed another step away from him. “Wait, wait, wait.” She shook her head, staring up at him. “You’re serious?”

  He leant his back—broader than it used to be at school, she noticed—against the door and nodded. Sonja didn’t know if it was the beard, the tousled waves of dark honey-blonde hair or his unreadable eyes, but for the first time since he’d appeared back in her life it really truly dawned on her they were grownups now. Adults existing in a world of adult rules. And adult Levi was most likely used to getting whatever he wanted.

  She drew in a wobbly breath, her mouth dry. Unfortunately, the same state couldn’t be said for her sex. Already it was growing heavy and damp at the notion of doing stuff with Levi and his boyfriend.

  Corbin. Corbin Smith. He’s a famous, successful Hollywood screenwriter. And gay. Openly and proudly gay. Think about that, woman.

  Gnawing on her bottom lip, she folded her arms again and fixed Levi with an unwavering stare. “So you’re telling me you want me to have sex with you and your boyfriend.”

  “Partner. And yes.”

  “Your gay partner. I just need to make sure I’ve got all the facts straight here before we go on.”

  Levi crossed his ankles and nodded. “My gay partner. Yes.”

  Sonja’s pulse thumped hard in her ears. “You, Levi Levistan, want me to have sex with you and your gay partner? The man who came into Do Re Me last night and busted you kissing me. The one who seemed pretty bloody miffed about it. That gay partner?”

  Levi nodded once again.

  “And how does your gay partner feel about this? Can’t imagine he’s a fan.”

  Something hungry glinted in Levi’s eyes. “Corbin was the one who suggested it.”

  Sonja raised her eyebrows. “He what?”

  “He suggested it. After we made—” A haunted expression twisted Levi’s face. “After we fucked. After I fucked him.”

  For a split second, Sonja forgot how to breathe. Every cell in her brain deserted its normal function to process Levi’s ludicrous claim. A heavy weight strapped around Sonja’s chest. Her stomach clenched. Her throat tightened. Words failed her. No, not just words. Thoughts.
There was no way in hell she had the ability to comprehend what Levi Levistan was telling her.

  It was too…too unbelievable.

  She opened her mouth. Closed it again.

  Nope. Not a single word.

  At the door, Levi watched her. Waited.

  She remembered this side of him well. It was one of the sides that had driven her crazy when they’d been hot and heavy at school. The side that let nothing show. No hint of what was going on in his head. Or his heart.

  Experiencing it again, she remembered all too easily how much it pissed her off.

  Pricking anger crashed over her. Suffocating her shocked stupor. “So this is how famous rock stars do things, is it? You just open your mouth and expect whatever it is you say to happen? You just make a call, get an address and turn up at your old girlfriend’s home and suggest a threesome? This is you now, is it?”

  Levi didn’t say anything. Just watched her.

  She threw up her hands. “Of course it is. Money, fame, groupies. Why wouldn’t you expect it? And I didn’t exactly fight you off in the bar, did I? So yeah, I can see exactly how that equals, ‘hey, Sonny, I know it’s been a while, but wanna be in a threesome with me and Corbin?’” She stopped her rant. Folded her arms over her breasts and glared at him.

  “You know,” he said, expression unreadable, “when you wave your hands around like that I can see your—”

  “Fuck you, Levistan,” she snarled, spinning on her heel and storming away from him.

  Her heart felt like a sledgehammer in her throat.

  She stomped into her living room, fighting to calm the charged energy thrumming through her.

  The nerve of the guy. Coming to her home and suggesting something so…so…

  Enticing?

  An image shot through her head from her last dream, the one responsible for all the pushups. Levi tracing his tongue up Corbin’s spine as Corbin’s tongue teased her right nipple.

  Her feet tripped over themselves. She stumbled a step, careened off the arm of her couch and plonked down with a grunt on the armchair situated beside it.

  “Damn you, Stan,” she muttered, scrubbing at her face with trembling hands. She knew he’d followed her into the living room. She could feel him. It was like he was a big, annoying magnet, an undeniable force that pulled on every fibre and molecule in her body.

  She didn’t lift her head when warm, long-fingered hands smoothed over her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Sonny,” he murmured, his breath warm on the back of her head.

  Letting out a huff—she was going hyper-ventilate soon with all the ragged, shaky, huffy breathing she’d been doing since he arrived—she shrugged off his touch. She didn’t want to. She’d always loved the feel of his warm palms on her body, even when she was too inexperienced to truly understand the significance of the response.

  Hell, the first time they’d spoken in the schoolyard he’d helped her up after she’d walked straight into a pole while staring at him. He’d been sitting outside the music block, plucking out a rhythm on one of the school’s acoustic guitars, his focus on the strings, his shaggy blonde hair hanging around his face, and she’d walked past him—an enthralled fifteen-year-old with an all-encompassing crush—unable to look away. Until she’d hit the pole and landed on her arse.

  He’d hurried over to her and smoothed his hands around her upper arms, worry in his eyes even as a friendly smile played with his lips.

  From that moment onward, she’d been defenseless against his hands.

  Did he remember that now?

  “Seriously, Stan.” She finally raised her head and glared at him. “What you’re doing, what you’re asking me to do, it’s a bit fucked up.”

  He sat perched on the edge of the coffee table in front of her, looking at her, so close his knees brushed hers. The faint caress of denim on Sonja’s bare skin sent a ripple of wanton sensations through her.

  Levi, the perceptive bastard, didn’t miss her body’s reaction. A knowing light danced in his eyes and he leant forward, holding her gaze with his. “And yet, you’re turned on by the request.”

  “I’m not going to sleep with you and your boyfriend, Levistan.”

  “But you want to.”

  Her belly clenched. Not just at the calm confidence of his statement, but at the truth in it. Heat bloomed in the junction of her thighs and she turned her head aside, not wanting him to see how flustered he’d made her. “It’s fucked up,” she muttered.

  Warm hands stroked her knees, smoothed up her legs. He skimmed the tips of his fingers high over her inner thighs, so close to her pussy she hissed in a swift breath.

  But she didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Not even when Levi’s fingertips trailed a soft, slow path over the lips of her sex.

  A low whimper vibrated deep in her chest. She closed her eyes. Swallowed. She should close her legs.

  Should. But couldn’t. Not when the feel of Levi’s fingers…there, felt so right.

  “Do you remember when you didn’t wear underwear to school for a whole day?”

  Sonja’s breath quickened at his murmured question.

  “On the day I had to deliver a speech in Mrs. Campbell’s English class. You told me just before you left for your class—Modern History, it was. With Mr. Boulis. You whispered it in my ear as I was about to walk into English to tell Mrs. Campbell to stick the speech in her ear.”

  The pad of his finger brushed the hood of Sonja’s clit. The deep timbre of his voice stroked her thinning control. “You knew I was going to fail English if I didn’t do the speech. It was my final assessment task and if I failed it my dad was going to beat the shit out of me. You knew that. You also knew telling me you weren’t wearing undies would distract me from my fear of public speaking.”

  He rolled his fingers over the sensitive button of her flesh between her thighs.

  “You helped me when I needed it the most, Sonny. I got a C plus, a passing grade. I don’t know if I ever thanked you for that.”

  “I’m pretty certain you did,” she said, her voice a shaky breath, her eyes still closed. “I remember coming so hard in the backseat of your car down by the river after school.”

  Levi didn’t laugh. Didn’t say a word.

  Opening her eyes, Sonja turned her gaze back to him. Their stares clashed, melded, and for a moment Sonja glimpsed something like wretched sorrow in his eyes. There and gone in a blink. Hidden from her. “Is that what you want me to do now, Levi? Help you?”

  He didn’t answer. Just returned his hands to the tops of her thighs.

  She let out a sigh. “I bet you haven’t thought about me at all until you walked into Do Re Me, have you?”

  His Adam’s apple jerked up and down the strong column of his throat. “What does it mean that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since?”

  The urge to lean forward and comb her fingernails through the dark-blond growth on his jaw damn near overwhelmed her. She’d had a thing for facial hair since she was a teenager. What were the odds Levi would wear a beard now?

  Letting out another sigh, she shook her head. “I’m not going to sleep with you and your boyfriend, Levi. I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m not it.”

  “Life.” The word left him in a low breath. “I’m looking for life. And Corbin was right. I felt more alive when I was with you, singing and laughing with you, holding you, kissing you, than I have in a long time.”

  His confession sheared into Sonja’s tenuous resolve. All too easily, images of the three of them together assaulted her. She swallowed, staring hard at the rock star before her. What woman with a healthy libido didn’t fantasize about two men giving her sexual pleasure? Two mouths worshipping her body, two sets of hands, two tongues. Two—

  “Do you love him?” she asked, killing the arousing thought.

  A slow smile lit up Levi’s face, turning him from good looking to drop-dead-make-you-weep gorgeous. “More than I could ever express,” he whispered, his gaze unfocused.


  Unable to stop herself, Sonja surrendered to the need to trail her fingers through the glossy hair on his jaw, cupping the side of his face in her hand. “Then go home to him and tell him that.”

  He closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping.

  “I’d just be a band-aid,” she said. “And eventually band-aids have to be ripped off.” With a little chuckle, she traced her thumb along the velvet-soft line of his bottom lip. “But hey, if you ever feel like karaoke again, just give me a call.”

  With a nod, he turned his head and pressed his lips to the centre of her palm.

  Sonja’s body reacted instantly to the intimate contact. A shiver raced up her spine. Her nipples pinched tight. She sucked in a swift breath, her belly a tight knot, her pussy warm with want. “Levi,” she moaned before she could stop herself.

  Levi turned back to her, his gaze capturing hers. A second before he snared a handful of her hair and crushed her lips with his.

  Raw and hungry lust erupted in Sonja’s core. Tight, hot and wet. Her heart smashed against her breastbone. Every other part of her body froze, lost to the sudden power of Levi’s kiss. To the invasion of his masterful tongue in her mouth and the fierce greed in his nips on her bottom lip.

  And then it was over. With an animalistic growl, Levi tore his lips from hers and rose to his feet. He stared down at her, desire burning in his eyes. “Karaoke it is, Sonny,” he said, his voice strained. Hoarse. “I’ll pick you up at five tonight.”

  And before she could respond, he left, striding through her home and closing the door behind him. Leaving her aching for more. Aching for release.

  Aching for his touch.

  The fucking bastard.

  Chapter Six

  Closing his laptop with a grunt, Corbin slumped low in his favourite armchair.

  Three and a half weeks ago, The Dead Even 2’s director, Nigel McQueen, had requested rewrites on the screenplay’s third act, wanting to amp up the sexual tension between Chris Huntley’s rogue marine and his double-agent femme-fatale partner. McQueen had emailed Corbin, apologizing for the intrusion during Corbin’s mourning. Corbin had emailed back immediately, assuring Nigel it was no problem and he’d get to it straight away. The work on the script couldn’t have come at a better time. It was something to keep his mind from lingering on the pain of his crumbling relationship with Levi. The tension between them had increased to an unbearable point, a point where they had not only not spoken any more, they’d no longer slept in the same room.