Getting Played (Heart of Fame #7)

by Lexxie Couper

  When she came to rehearsal room four, she stopped.

  Her pulse pounded in her throat. Staring at the door, she shook her head. “You are such a masochist,” she muttered, a second before she opened the door and entered the room.

  And stopped.

  The muted spotlights were on, their warm glow illuminating the picnic blanket laid flat on the floor beside the baby grand piano. On the blanket sat a wicker picnic basket, two white plastic plates, two plastic champagne flutes and a silver wine cooler in which sat an unopened bottle of Moët. The pool of water staining the red-checked blanket beneath the cooler told Nat the ice inside had long melted, condensation no doubt trickling down the silver cooler to seep into the material.

  But it wasn’t any of those things that stole her breath. That ripped her chest open and squeezed her heart in a punishing grip.

  It was the old-fashion portable record player sitting beside the champagne. And the AC/DC album resting against it, the five signatures scrawled on its cover clearly visible.

  “I’ve got something special planned for the evening.”

  Jax’s words from earlier that day, uttered with open happiness and teasing delight, came back to her. She stared at the AC/DC album, her AC/DC album, the air in the room crushing her. Pressing down on her.

  He was going to give the album he’d taken from her back.

  He was going to…

  Stomach a hot mess of knots, she crossed to the picnic blanket, blinking a little as she stepped from the dark shadows of the room into the golden light falling over the picnic blanket.

  Yes, it was her album. There was no denying it. The right top corner was a tad frayed from all the times she or Jax had parted the cardboard to slip the record inside out. Angus Young’s signature had that funny little wriggle in it where he’d been bumped by Brian Johnson as he was signing it. And there was her name, written by Phil Rudd, the band’s drummer on the top left of the cover.

  Nat dropped to her knees and reached for the album, the satin of her evening gown pooling around her, her ribs straining against the boned corset.

  She skimmed her fingertips over its surface, staring at it.

  He’d planned to give her the album back. Planned to play it tonight while they ate a picnic dinner here in the rehearsal room. The same rehearsal room they’d…they’d…

  “I’ve got something special planned for the evening.”

  His words mocked her again.

  A raw sob tore at the back of her throat. Hot tears stung at the back of her eyes. She touched the album cover again, letting her finger rest on the worn top right corner.

  She could see him here, in her mind, setting it up, grinning that boyishly wonderful grin of his, most likely humming. Could see him standing back and checking it out before walking to her office to ask her when she was going to be finished. To tell her he had…

  “Something special planned for the evening.”

  She let out a ragged breath, a numb weight on her heart.

  He’d planned to give the album back and make love to her right here, tonight. Maybe even tell her he loved her. He’d planned that. Jax who never really planned much of anything, who was led by his impulses and desires. He’d planned this, and instead he was now with Dory, probably having wild sex, probably making Dory scream with pleasure over and over because she, Nat, had rejected him.

  “Damn you, Jax,” she muttered, the acoustics of the room catching her voice. Lifting it from her lips. “Why did you change the rules? I could have survived this all if I didn’t think you loved me, but now…”

  She stopped, shook her head and dropped her face into her hands.

  “But now what?”

  Nat jerked her head up at the sound of Jax’s voice.

  He emerged from the dark shadows at the back of the room, his eyes tormented. Haunted.

  Nat stared at him. “Wh-why…what are you doing here?” The question left her on a croaky rasp.

  “Why aren’t I with your assistant, do you mean?” he suggested, walking toward her. “Off somewhere being the sex-maniac rock star I am?”

  Mouth dry, Nat nodded.

  He stopped at the chair closest to the picnic blanket, his gaze holding hers. “Tell me why you’re not with the Minister for the Arts and Culture first. At the PM’s Ball.”

  She drew a slow breath, every nerve ending thrumming, every molecule in her body aching for him. “Because the minister is not the man I want to be with.”

  An unreadable emotion flared in Jax’s dark eyes. “Who do you want to be with, Nat?”

  “A sex-maniac rock star,” she answered.

  His jaw bunched. “Why the change of heart? I need to know. Only a few hours ago you wanted none of me.”

  She swallowed, stomach churning. “Because you make me feel alive. Because you stop me from being so tightly wound, so constrained and proper. Because you make me believe there’s room in my life for fun and impulsiveness and mischief and that it’s okay to just run with what you’re feeling every now and again. Because you make me laugh and you make me happy and you make me horny.” She stopped, closing her eyes as the memory of every orgasm he’d given her in the last two weeks rolled through her. Warmed her. “Fuck, you make me horny. Really horny.”

  She opened her eyes, looking up at him. Aching for him. “Now. Your turn. What are you doing here? At the Con? Why aren’t you off with Dory?”

  He sat motionless, elbows resting on his knees, regarding her with those dark eyes of his. “Because five minutes out of your office, the very thought of making love to anyone else apart from you made me sick. Like, physically sick. I thought I was going to hurl. I love you, Boxhead. I always have. It just took way too many years of empty, meaningless sex for me to realize it.”

  Nat’s heart thumped faster. She opened her mouth to tell him she loved him as well and froze when he shook his head and held up one hand to stop her.

  “I’ve spent a fucking lot of hours these last two weeks thinking about what a life with you would be like,” he went on, his voice strained. “How wonderful it would be. It was pretty fucking incredible twenty-one years ago, and that was before the notion of love even entered our minds. I’ve spent nights watching you as you slept in my arms, imagining how wonderful being with you for forever would be, and sick with dread at the thought of a life without you. I’ve done the meaningless, superficial thing, Nat, and I don’t want to do it again. I’m a better man when I’m with you. I know that sounds clichéd, but it’s true. But here’s the thing. I’m terrified I’m not good enough for you. How could I be? I’m just a tosser who can play a keyboard well and knows how to hold a note. I’ve done little with my life but fuck my way around the world and sing songs mostly written by other people. You’re the dean of the most prestigious school for music in Australia. You’ve got degrees coming out of your arse. People respect you. Need you.”

  He scrunched up his face, turning away from her as he raked his hands through his hair.

  “How could I possibly be worthy of you?” he asked, staring at the darkness outside the spotlights.

  Throat tight, Nat rose to her feet and closed the small distance between them. She lowered herself to the floor between his knees and looked up at him. “Love is not worth, Jax. And I love you. But the answer to your question, about how you could possibly be worthy of me is simple. Because you are Jax Campbell.” She slid her palms up his shins, over his knees to the tops of his thighs.

  He turned back to her, heartache and hope shining in his eyes. “And?” he asked, his voice low.

  She smiled. “And you tattooed a woman with a box for a head on your butt.”

  He laughed, lowered his face to hers and kissed her. He swept his tongue into her mouth, claimed hers. He buried his hands in her hair.

  She kissed him back, rapture and pleasure and sheer joy washing over her. Consuming her. Searing away her grief.

  A lifetime later—or maybe only five minutes, she didn’t know or care—Jax raised hi
s head from hers and gazed down into her face. “I’m pretty fucking certain I need to make love to you now, Natalie Thorton. What are the chances of the cleaning staff coming along and busting us?”

  She laughed, her pussy throbbing, her heart singing. “Pretty fucking high, to be honest.”

  He grinned. “Perfect.”

  He captured her lips again, his kiss wilder this time. Hungrier.

  And then he broke away with a muttered curse. “Fuck.” He pulled back from her, shoving his hand into the back pocket of his jeans. “Give me a sec. There’s something I forgot to do.”

  He pulled his phone free of his pocket, swiped his thumb over its screen, tapped on it three times and then raised it to his ear, his expression set. Determined.

  Nat watched him, belly fluttering.

  His gaze found hers a second before he straightened on the seat and grinned.

  “Strings,” he said into his phone. “Get the guys together and get your arses to Australia. I’ve found our new front man.” He dropped her a quick wink. “And you’re never going to believe who it is.”

  Epilogue

  A hint of spring danced on the soft breeze blowing across Sydney Harbour. It turned the evening air to a teasing caress that played with Jax’s hair and tugged at the pants of his tux as he climbed the steps of Sydney’s famous Opera House.

  He tightened his grip on the woman’s hand at his side, smiling at the media and paparazzi gathered on either side of the red carpet leading up to the Opera House.

  “There they are,” Nat said, pointing to a group of people standing at the top of the flight of steps. Four men and three women, all dressed in exquisite finery, even the man with the black leather cowboy hat pulled low over his face.

  Jax laughed. “Strings seems to be barely tolerating the photographers. Think we better hurry up so he doesn’t put his cranky pants on.”

  Nat grinned. “You’ve made them wait this long. Three weeks since you walked into my office, in fact. I think a few more seconds isn’t going to hurt them.”

  Pulling her to a halt with gentle pressure on her hand, he spun her to face him and captured her smiling lips with a kiss.

  Around them, the media and public watching from the other side of black velvet rope let out a cheer.

  Camera flashes peppered the evening.

  For a second, Jax came damn close to throwing Nat over his shoulder and carrying her back down the steps to the limo they’d only just exited. He pushed his hips to hers, a silent sharing of just how fucking horny she made him.

  “Hurry up, Campbell!” a grumpy male voice called from the top of the steps.

  With great reluctance and a cheeky laugh, he tore his lips from Nat’s and turned to grin at those waiting for them. “Wait your hurry, Strings!” he shouted back.

  Samuel Gibson rolled his eyes and shook his head. The woman he held tucked to the side of his body laughed before saying something Jax couldn’t hear to their other companions. But based on the way Noah, Pepper, Levi, Corbin and Sonja burst out laughing, Lily had no doubt drawn everyone’s attention to the fact her husband still wore his famous brooding persona in public.

  “C’mon.” Nat adjusted Jax’s tie and he turned back to her, his heart tripping a beat and his cock twitching at the familiar hot desire he saw in her eyes. She smiled, trailing her fingers over his chest, down to the waistband of his tux’s trousers and—for a deliciously wicked moment—lower. “We better get going. The showcase is about to start,” she said, “and it would be woeful if the organizer didn’t at least make an appearance behind the curtain before it did, don’t you think?”

  Jax risked Samuel’s ire again by tugging Nat closer to his body. “I think,” he whispered in her ear, “I want to fuck you silly right here on the steps of the Opera House.”

  She laughed, the sound throaty. “Later,” she murmured. “I promise.”

  Letting out a melodramatic groan, he pulled away from her, thread his fingers through hers and, gloriously happy, made his way to the top of the stairs.

  “So?” He grinned at his fellow band members. “Ready to see our new guy?”

  Samuel grunted. “I can’t believe you still refuse to tell us who it is. You’re being a mysterious fucking pain in the arse, do you know that?”

  Jax laughed.

  Samuel turned to Nat. “Who is it? Someone performing at this Oz Rock Showcase? One of your old students?”

  Nat smiled. Jax laughed again. “All will be revealed soon, Strings.”

  He held his hand out toward the direction of the doors. “Let’s go.”

  They all entered the Opera House’s main foyer, pausing for a moment to pose for the media crew officially invited to the Conservatorium’s event.

  “I have to go,” Nat whispered in Jax’s ear. “See you after the opening act, okay?”

  He grabbed her butt, hauled her to his body, kissed her with hungry need and let her go. “I’ll mind your seat.”

  She laughed and then hurried away with a wave.

  “I like her,” Pepper said, nodding as she watched Nat disappear in the crowd mingling at the main hall’s entrance. “She’s—”

  “Naughty,” Jax finished. He dragged his attention back to his fellow band members. “Come on. There’s someone waiting for us inside.”

  After finding their row of seats, second from the stage, Jax plonked himself down and, catching sight of Nat waiting in the wings, gave her a wink.

  “Never seen her look so relaxed,” a deep male voice said in front of Jax.

  “Nick?” Samuel said. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Nick Blackthorne, sitting in the seat directly in front of Jax’s, twisted about to face them. “Wouldn’t miss this for all the world, mate.”

  Jax smirked. On his left, Levi cast him a contemplative frown. Noah narrowed his eyes. “Are we here to see—” he began, but stopped as the house lights dimmed, fading until the Opera House’s main hall was pitch black.

  Jax wriggled lower in his seat.

  The haunting sounds of “Lily’s Song” began to play in the darkness, plucked out with exquisite beauty on an acoustic guitar, filling the room as a single spotlight switched on. Illuminating the young man perched on a stool alone in the middle of the stage, guitar slung around his neck, long, lean body encased in black jeans, a black T-shirt and battered black leather jacket, head down, focus fixed on his fingers moving over the guitar’s strings with flawless talent.

  “Well, fuck, eh?” Samuel muttered beside Jax. “Can he sing?”

  Jax shrugged. “No bloody clue, mate,” he said with a grin.

  On the stage, Josh Blackthorne raised his head and, with a smile more sexy than his father’s, showed the world he could indeed sing.

  About the Author

  Lexxie Couper started writing when she was six and hasn’t stopped since. She’s not a deviant, but she does have a deviant’s imagination and a desire to entertain readers with her words. Add the two together and you get romances that can make you laugh, cry, shake with fear or tremble with desire. Sometimes all at once. When she’s not submerged in the worlds she creates, Lexxie’s life revolves around her family, a husband who thinks she’s insane, an indoor cat who likes to stalk shadows, and her daughters, who both utterly captured her heart and changed her life forever.

  Contact Lexxie at lexxie@lexxiecouper.com, follow her on Twitter www.twitter.com/lexxie_couper or visit her at www.lexxiecouper.com where she occasionally makes a fool of herself on her blog.

  Look for these titles by Lexxie Couper

  Now Available:

  The Sun Sword

  Tropical Sin

  Triple Dare

  Dare Me

  Sunset Heat

  Suspicious Ways

  Party Games

  Suck and Blow

  Twister

  Heart of Fame

  Love’s Rhythm

  Muscle for Hire

  Guarded Desires

  Steady Beat

&nb
sp; Lead Me On

  Blame it on the Bass

  Savage Australia

  Savage Retribution

  Savage Transformation

  Principatus

  Dark Destiny

  Dark Embrace

  Coming Soon:

  Heart of Fame

  Blackthorne

  She'll either make them or break them

  Blame it on the Bass

  © 2014 Lexxie Couper

  Heart of Fame, Book 6

  After a horrific accident robs rock legend Levi Levistan and his long-time partner, Corbin, of their dream of becoming parents, Levi is lost in a sea of grief. Until he runs into an old high school flame and their chemistry reignites.

  Corbin Smith is intent on bridging the chasm between their hearts. But witnessing his lover’s steamy onstage kiss with another woman jolts him to the core with sexual arousal. And he realizes the key to their healing is standing in Levi’s arms.

  As an erotic romance editor, nothing much unsettles Sonja Stone. She’s not even surprised at her body’s powerful reaction to Levi’s kiss. But when Corbin approaches them, eyes smoldering with hunger, his suggestion shakes her to the core.

  Sensing their unspoken wounds, Sonja agrees to take a chance on a threesome. Their union is explosively perfect, but something is holding Levi back from sealing their searing emotional connection. Something that could destroy their love once and for all…

  Warning: This book contains angst, torment, sarcasm, humour, scorching m/m sex, searing m/f sex and explosive m/m/f sex.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for: Blame it on the Bass

  “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.”