Oh God, she couldn’t do this.
She couldn’t.
Could she?
Calm didn’t claim Noah. He pounded out the opening drum rolls of “Gotta Run”, his stare on the empty mic. If only he’d been able to talk to Pepper before the gig started, but fucking fate had intervened, making it impossible for him to get here before now.
The guys were laying down the song’s extended intro with their usual brilliance, still blanketed in darkness. If this was Pepper’s idea, it was a good one. Hook the crowd in with the pure sound of music, just music, before revealing the players.
And yet, it didn’t surprise Noah when someone in the audience shouted “Blackthorne”. No one played a Strat like Strings. No one.
The tiny flash of a smartphone detonated from the crushing crowd at the edge of the stage. Someone else screamed for Nick.
Noah ignored it all. He didn’t care who the audience thought they were watching, just wanted to hear Pepper’s voice. His body had given itself over to the power of the beat, but his soul, his heart, still resisted. The song was angry and sad and tormented, and all four of them—him and Jax and Levi and Samuel—knew how to amp up the power of its rage, but Noah felt little of it. The crowd was already lost to the realization of who they were watching, now all that was needed was for the song to find its voice.
Pepper’s voice.
Noah thumped out the technically demanding grooves, his limbs moving independently of each other, laying it down. His mind jumped everywhere, settled nowhere. His skin itched. His hair prickled.
He stared at the empty microphone, his heart wild.
And then she stepped into the spotlight and sang the opening line, and chaos claimed Noah no more.
“You changed it all and I changed nothing…”
Her voice rose above the crowd and, even as Noah’s sheer joy deafened him, he heard the audience moved to silence for a heartbeat.
A heartbeat. Long enough for the sublime magic of Pepper’s voice to claim them.
Own them.
Move them.
The song continued, Pepper’s voice growing more ethereal and haunted with every note. The crowd screamed its rapture, stamping their collective feet on the wooden dance floor. “Gotta Run” transitioned into “Glass Houses”, “Glass Houses” into “A Woman Called Heartbreak.” The set continued, Pepper entrancing the crowd, holding them in her thrall as Noah and the rest of the band raced along with her haunting power.
With every song, with every key change, with every softly spoken introduction Pepper made, the crowd fell more in love with her. Noah didn’t need to see the enrapt stares on their faces to know that, he could hear it in their cheers, their applause. Could feel it in the room, like an exposed vein of pure energy, throbbing in every particle of air and sweat. Feeding the deity of music he’d long worshipped until Pepper entered his life.
Now, he would change it all…
The harrowing grief of “Burnt” tore from Pepper’s throat, ten songs later, the last number of the night. The crowd screamed, ecstatic. Beside themselves.
With one long, thunderous roll, Noah brought the only song he’d ever written to an end, Pepper’s voice riding the crest with the heartbeat of his sticks.
“And in the end, all we have is the burn,” she sang, “and the dream.”
She turned to face him, the first time she had since taking the stage. Her gaze found his across the shallow expanse of the stage, the tears in her eyes piercing his soul.
“And the dream,” she repeated, her voice fading away to silence the very second he struck the last note of the song.
The crowd erupted. Flashes fired. Feet stomped the floor. Hands slapped the stage. The noise grew louder. Deafening. Wild.
Noah didn’t wait for it to finish. He couldn’t wait any longer.
Dropping his sticks, he threw himself from his stool and ran to Pepper where she stood motionless at the microphone, her back to the screaming, cheering crowd.
He stopped but a step away. He slid his hands over the sides of her face, cupping her jaw in his palms. “I’m not the father.”
Her eyes closed, and for a split second, she swayed toward him. And then, before he could wrap his arms around her waist and crush her to his body, she opened her eyes again and looked up at him. “I’m glad.”
Cold anguish cut through his joy. “Then why do you look so sad?”
She buried her head into his chest. Clung to him with fierce strength. He slid his palms over her shoulder, down her back, and it was only then he felt the bone-deep tremble quaking through her. “Because I’m absolutely terrified,” she confessed, her words muffled and hot against his heart.
He tucked his finger under her chin and gently raised her head, forcing her to look at him. His heart smashed in his chest, louder than the cheering crowd. “Of us? Of being with me?”
She shook her head, fisting her hands in his shirt. “Of singing. Of being up here. On the stage. I thought I could do it, I prayed I could. I didn’t want to disappoint you, but I’ve never been so scared in my life. Ever. Please don’t make me do this again. Please.”
He kissed her, doing everything in his power to take her fear away with his lips and tongue and teeth.
He didn’t care they stood in the middle of a stage with a hundred frenzied bar patrons chanting, “Kiss, kiss, kiss.” All he wanted was to give Pepper the exquisite calm she gave him in the only way he could. By holding her, kissing her. Cherishing her.
A lifetime later, he broke the kiss, reluctant to do so but needing to see her. To look into her eyes. To drown in them. “You could never, ever disappoint me, Pepper.” He stroked his thumb over her bottom lip. Her eyes shone, with self-doubt or hope, he couldn’t tell.
“But I failed,” she murmured. “Again.”
He shook his head. “Nope.” Levi’s command at the beginning of the set came to him, and he smiled down at her. “What do you think about being our manager instead? Helping us find someone to replace Nick for the Dead Even 2 end credit song?”
She gasped out a sob, her smile filling him with golden warmth. Tears glistened on her cheeks. “I think I can do that.”
He grinned, reaching for her hands on his shirt, releasing her clenched fists to thread his fingers through hers. “What about being with me? All the time? Every day? Every night? Think you can do that as well?”
She drew his body closer to hers and pressed her forehead to his chest, just above his calmly beating heart. “That I can do forever.”
He couldn’t help himself. He picked her up and spun her around. “I love you,” he groaned, lowering her to her feet once more to the wild cheers of the crowd.
Pepper grinned up at him, her eyes sparkling. “I know,” she said.
And kissed him back as the Star Wars theme blasted from Jaxon’s keyboard and reverberated around the bar.
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 [email protected], 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
Suck and Blow
Triple Dare
Dare Me
Sunset Heat
Twister
Suspicious Ways
Heart of Fame
Love’s Rhythm
Muscle for Hire
Guarded Desires
Savage Australia
Savage Retribution
Savage Transformation
Principatus
Dark Destiny
Dark Embrace
Coming Soon:
Heart of Fame
Lead Me On
Blame it on the Bass
Getting Played
Desire like this wasn’t in the script…
Guarded Desires
© 2013 Lexxie Couper
Heart of Fame, Book 3
Small-screen sex symbol Chris Huntley is on the fast track to becoming the next big action-blockbuster movie star. When his latest movie takes him to Australia for a red-carpet premiere, he thinks he’s ready for anything.
But nothing could have prepared him for his raw, carnal response to his Aussie bodyguard. Sexual attraction to a man is a first for Chris. Now he realizes why his relationships with women have never felt quite…complete.
Liev Reynolds is comfortable with his bisexuality, but his attraction to Chris is an inconvenience he must ignore. For starters, there’s his professional ethics. Then there’s the long trail of female broken hearts in Chris’s wake.
Hard as they both try to keep their minds on their jobs, desire and a little matchmaking tip them over the edge. But Hollywood endings aren’t real life. And when the truth leaks out, their careers aren’t the only collateral damage.
Warning: A hunky Hollywood sex symbol. A smoldering, stubborn Australian. A desire so powerful it cannot be denied. A kiss. And a photograph. This isn’t your normal boy-meets-boy story.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Guarded Desires:
The squeals were deafening. The feverish fans pressed at his back in a wave of maniacal rapture. He pressed back, holding his right arm out to protect Chris as he maneuvered on the backseat.
The actor looked up at him, his grin bemused. Their eyes connected for a second, just a second, but what Liev saw in their light-blue depths stole his breath. Slammed into him with more force than the screaming crowd trying to mow over him in an effort to see and touch their idol.
Desire.
Chris Huntley looked at him with desire.
There was no denying it.
Jesus.
“Let’s go,” he said, forcing his voice to sound stern as he threw the crazed crowd a threatening glare.
Chris alighted from the SUV.
The crowd squealed again. Surged forward. Pressed against Liev’s back.
He braced against the pressure, curling his hand around Chris’s upper arm to support him.
Protect.
Touch him.
Hot energy shot down his arm. Into his chest. His soul.
He ground his teeth. Ignoring the disturbing reaction, he pulled Chris into his body, tucking him close to his side. The subtle scent of expensive aftershave threaded into his breath and, completely indifferent to the volatile moment, a tight lick of heat stole through his groin.
Clenching his jaw harder, he turned just enough to shield Chris from the crowd and began walking, parting the shoving fans with one arm.
They protested louder but scurried backward, enough for Liev to hurry Chris toward the entrance.
And then a stark white light flash right in front of Liev’s eyes.
He flinched, raising his hand to his face. Chris stumbled, his shoulder bumping into Liev’s armpit. The flash fired again and a man chuckled. “Nice.”
Liev caught the actor before he could trip again. But the action was enough for the crowd to sense weakness.
“Oh my God, I love you, Chris!” a female voice screeched at Liev’s right.
“I love you, Chris!” a new female voice squealed.
“I love you, Chris!” another woman cried.
“I love you, Chris!”
“Chris!”
“Chris! Chris!”
The horde erupted, pressing in with greedy excitement. Hands snatched out. Fingers scraped at Liev. Chris let out a shout.
With a snarl, Liev hauled the actor hard to his side and swung out his arm, his fist bunched.
People went tumbling, falling over each other. The flash fired again, joined by others.
Madness took over. Like a feeding frenzy, the mob attacked.
Liev didn’t let Chris go. Nor did he falter. Shoulder down, he barged forward.
He didn’t know where Bethany was. He couldn’t risk looking for her. She was smart. Smart enough to sense the crowd and not get out of the SUV. At least, he hoped to God that was the case. For now, all he could focus on was getting Chris off the street. Out of danger.
Away.
“Here!” a man shouted somewhere in front of him. “Mr. Reynolds, here!”
Liev flicked his attention upward, glaring at the screaming mob. Behind the wall of waving, grabbing people, a man in a suit pushed toward him. His face was red and covered in sweat, his hair disheveled. He grabbed at shoulders and clothes, yanking people out of his way, clearing a path for Liev and Chris. “This way,” he shouted.
Without hesitation, Liev tightened his grip on Chris and charged forward.
Hands and fingers raked over his back and arms and shoulders, but he didn’t slow. Behind him, growing louder every second, a police siren wailed over the noise.
“This way,” the man shouted, a second before Liev reached him.
He waved Liev and Chris through the open restaurant door, muttering something Liev didn’t hear.
For a split second, Liev dared to slow, to draw breath, and then the man behind him slammed into his back and he stumbled forward.
“Through the kitchen,” the man shouted, just as Liev watched the crowd surge through the door, even as the man tried to shut it. “To my office. Go!”
Without a word to Chris, Liev pulled him through the restaurant. Passed the gaping diners, passed the wait staff, through the kitchen with its busy cooks and into an office.
Releasing Chris, he spun around, slammed the door shut and rammed the locking bolt into place. “Damn,” he ground out, palms flat on the door. “That was insane.” He looked over his shoulder at the panting, gasping actor. His gut churned at the stunned shock on Chris’s face. “I’m sorry, Mr. Huntley. That was—”
He didn’t get a chance to finish.
Chris grabbed his shoulder, yanked it hard enough to jerk Liev around and kissed him.
Liev froze.
For a heartbeat.
And then he growled into Chris’s mouth, dug his fingers into the man’s biceps, spun him around and drove him backward. Pinned him to the door.
Their tongue battled in a fierce mating that sent shots of scalding need straight to Liev’s groin. Chris bit at his lip, sucked on it. He tore at Liev’s clothes, seeking the hem of his shirt.
Liev’s heart beat harder when Chris’s fingers found his flesh.
His music moves the world. Can his love move her heart?
Love’s Rhythm
© 2012 Lexxie Couper
Heart of Fame, Book 1
Nick Blackthorne knows all about words of love. They’re the reason he’s the world’s biggest rock star. The irony? He turned his back on love a long time ago, lured away by the trappings of fame.
An invitation to a friend’s wedding is a stark reminder of how meaningless his life has become. When he enters that church, there’s only one woman he wants on his arm—the one he walked out on a lifetime ago. But first he has to find her, even if all she accepts from him is an apology.
Kindergarten teacher Lauren Robbins once had what every woman on the planet desires. Nick. Their passion was explosive, their romance the stuff of songs…and it took fifteen years to get over him. Then out of the blue Nick turns up at her door, and all those years denying her ache for him are shattered with a single, smoldering kiss.
But molten passion can’t hide the secret she’s kept for all these years. Because it’s not just her heart on the line anymore…and not just her life that’l
l be rocked by the revelation.
Warning: Remember your first crush on a rock star? Now add smoldering sex, a raw and undeniable passion, soul-shattering orgasms. And secrets…
Enjoy the following excerpt for Love’s Rhythm:
“Hello, Lauren,” a deep male voice said behind her.
Lauren squealed. An honest to goodness squeal. At the same exact second she spun on her heel and swung her satchel, weighed down with two textbooks, her uneaten lunch, car keys, half-empty water bottle, twenty-two hand-drawn self-portraits tucked in a sturdy cardboard folder, her purse and her iPad.
The satchel smashed into the temple of the man standing behind her.
There was a solid thud, a surprised oof, followed by an even more surprised, “shit, that hurt,” before the man went down like a bag of bricks, collapsing to the ground in one fluid, graceful drop. No, not just the man, the rock star. The rock star the whole world idolised, the one who’d grown up in this very parochial town with her.
The rock star who’d stolen her heart in that life she refused to think about.
Lauren’s mouth fell open. Her pulse turned into a sledgehammer. She stared at the motionless man lying at her feet, refusing to believe what her eyes were telling her. Nick Blackthorne was here in Murriundah, and she’d rendered him unconscious with the very satchel he’d given to her fifteen years ago.
“Oh, no.”
The words were a whispered breath. She dropped to her knees, the ground’s winter-damp seeping through the linen of her trousers as she reached out with one hand and gave Nick’s shoulder a gentle push. “Nick?”
He didn’t move.
Oh boy, Lauren, you’ve KOed the world’s biggest rock star.
She shoved him again, a little harder this time. “Nick?”
He didn’t make a sound. Not a bloody one.
“Shit.”
Her heart slammed into her throat, just as hard as the satchel had hit his head. She licked her lips and brushed a strand of his black hair from his forehead. He was just as gorgeous as always. Older, yes. He was almost thirty-seven after all, but the years looked good on him, so good. In fact, they suited him. When he’d been a teenager, he’d been god-like in his beauty. When he was in his twenties, that god-like beauty had verged on painful to look at. She’d spent many nights lying in the bed they’d shared for a year and a half, gazing at him while he slept, wondering at his perfection, her belly knotting with love, her sex constricting with longing. And then it had become just her bed, Nick nothing but a ghost in her heart.
Steady Beat Page 17
