Title: Blame it On the Bass
Author: Lexxie Couper
Release Date: April 15th, 2014
Can they mend his broken heart?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 a 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. And a memory of a horrific past that may disturb some readers.
“Are you going to tell me what’s bugging you?”Swallowing, he opened his eyes and looked at his friend over the rim of his scotch glass. “It wasn’t the first time he’d called me that since we’ve been together.”
Levi Levistan dragged his stare from the crystal glass in his hand, currently a quarter full of Chivas Regal scotch whiskey, the same liquid currently burning a path down his throat.He grimaced at the man sitting opposite him. “Not much to say. Corbin hasn’t said a word to me for over a month. We haven’t slept together since the funeral. Haven’t touched since then either. To be honest, I don’t even know where he is at this very moment in time. Could be back in the States." He shrugged, raised the whiskey to his mouth and swallowed the last of it in a single gulp.
He grimaced again. Yep, there’s the burn all right.
Nick Blackthorne raised his own glass and drained it with equal speed before wiping at his lips with the back of his hand. “The funeral messed you both up, Levi.”Levi stared at his now empty glass. “You can say that again.”
In the background, Nick’s baby daughter—now a healthy two-month-old and well on her way to emulating her daddy’s phenomenal voice if the protests she made at having her nappy changed earlier were anything to go by—cooed happily.
The sound tore at Levi’s heart. He knew Nick was doing his best to keep Chloe away from him.
Knew Lauren, Nick’s wife, had taken the babe into the back guest room of Nick’s sprawling home to spare Levi the pain of seeing her, but at every healthy, happy gurgle he heard—no matter how faint—his gut clenched. It seemed he was a masochist in his grief.
Every time little Chloe made a sound, he strained to hear more.
Ached to hear more.
Ached for what should have been.
Levi placed his glass on the coffee table between him and the man once considered the greatest rock star in the world and then reached for the bottle of Chivas. He didn’t drink in excess. Hadn’t done for years. Not since the band’s wild days. But with the way life had fucked him over these last two months…
Burn the pain away, mate. Burn it away.
A heavy prickling sensation on the top of his head told him Nick watched him. Silently. It was the singer’s way. Not say much, observe. Take it all in. Levi was the same. It was one of the reasons he and Nick had connected when they’d first been introduced by Walter Winchester, Nick’s long-time record producer in a recording studio in Melbourne close to twenty years ago. Levi was never meant to be Nick’s permanent bass player, but they’d clicked straight away. From that point onward, Nick had refused to perform with anyone else on bass.
“You think I’ve had enough?” he asked, pouring himself another drink. His third? Or fourth? He didn’t really know.
“I didn’t say that.”
Nick’s calm response scraped at Levi’s frayed state of mind. He picked his glass up and settled back in the armchair, staring at the amber liquid within in. “Didn’t have to.”
Silence greeted his response.
Levi let his head fall back against the chair, moving his gaze to the window behind Nick. “Remember when Jax cracked his head open the night he fell off the stage? In London?”
The sound of ice settling in his glass punctuated the silence. “Strings called me a coldhearted bastard, remember that?”
“Because you told us to continue the show without him.”
“Yeah. We sent Brutal and Aslin to the hospital with him.” Levi scratched at his beard. It was due for a trim. He’d let it go since the funeral. Hell, now he thought of it, when was the last time he’d combed his hair? His gut twisted. “Do you think Strings was right?” he asked, looking at Nick once more. “About me? Do you think I’m a coldhearted bastard?”
“I think you deal with things differently than most. That’s all. This isn’t about Jax or Samuel though, is it?”
Levi snorted. Nick Blackthorne always did have a way of cutting straight through the bullshit.
“Is it, Levi?” the singer repeated.
Closing his eyes, Levi let out a ragged sigh. “He called me an unfeeling bastard.”
He nodded, raising his dry eyes to Nick. “The morning of the funeral. I was fixing his tie—he always gets it crooked—and he told me I was an unfeeling bastard.”
Levi’s chest squeezed. Leave it to Nick to put the weight of the world in one damn word.
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