Blame It on the Bass (9 page)

A flash of the dream whispered through Sonja’s frazzled mind, utterly vivid and detailed. Her knees buckled and she grabbed at the refrigerator’s handle, desperate to keep herself upright. Another flash of the dream taunted her—Levi behind his lover as his lover buried his head between Sonja’s spread thighs—and she bit back a groan. Damn it, her sex was constricting and pulsing like a...like a…fuck, whatever pulsed and constricted a lot. This was why she was an editor and not a writer. Maybe she should call up one of her authors and ask for the appropriate noun?

She shook her head at the insane notion. Yeah, like she was going to share any of this with anyone.

Sucking in a slow breath, she straightened her spine, squared her shoulders and yanked open the fridge. The chilly air from the open refrigerator slipped over her flushed, perspiration-slicked skin, turning her nipples to aching pebbles. She shook off the urge to touch them. Coffee was what she needed. Coffee would clear her head. Coffee, followed by eggs and toast and then more coffee and a shower. By the time that was done and she was dressed for work, she would be completely back in control of her body and mind.

Easy peasy—

Her doorbell rang.

Sonja frowned in the direction of her foyer. “Who the fuck?”

The doorbell chimed again.

She shot a look at the clock hanging on the wall above the kitchen sink. Who the hell would be ringing her doorbell at five-minutes past six in the morning?

The soft
ding dong
sounded again.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Sonja swung the fridge door shut and ran to her bedroom, shouting, “I’m coming!” over her shoulder as she did so.

Her robe was nowhere to be found. Not surprising really, given how long overdue she was to attack the growing pile of laundry waiting for her. Scanning the room, she spied her old AC/DC Farewell Tour T-shirt crumpled on the chair under the window. She’d worn it to bed but had stripped it off and flung it aside after only a few minutes under the sheets, its soft restriction as she tossed and turned driving her mental.

Dragging it over her head, she yanked it down as low as it would go—just past her hoo-haa combed her fingers through the tangled mess of her hair and hurried to the front door. Just as whoever was on the other side knocked. Twice. “Okay, okay,” she muttered, unlocking the door and pulling it open, “keep your pants on.”

“Good advice, Sonny,” Levi deadpanned at her, his dark eyes raking over her bare legs. “Do you always answer the door like this?”

Sonja’s heart didn’t just jump into her throat. It rammed up there in an explosive beat and tried to pound its way from her body. She gaped at him. Then she caught herself gaping at him and scowled instead. “What the hell are you doing here? Are you stalking me?”

He laughed, a wry chuckle she’d never forgotten. It had been the kind of chuckle he gave anyone foolish enough to tell him he was good at something. The kind that said he didn’t think he was, but thank you for the thought. “No,” he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling. For the first time, Sonja noticed the wrinkles there. It made her realize he wasn’t an eighteen-year-old boy anymore. Nor was she sixteen.

Scowling some more, she leant her elbow on the side of the doorframe. And then realized the action—designed to look sarcastically indifferent—raised the hem of her T-shirt.

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.