But now, after watching his lover, his partner and his life kiss the corset-wearing woman with the incredible rack and the defiant eyes, his cock was the hardest it had been for months.
What the hell was going on with him?
How could he be turned on by the sight of Levi kissing anyone else, let alone a woman?
“Err…” the woman said, her voice as throaty now as it had been while singing with Levi. “I think this is my cue to leave.”
To Corbin’s dismay, Levi reached for one of her hands and tugged her to his body. “No, Sonny. You’re not going anywhere. Corbin on the other hand…”
Levi’s glare clashed with Corbin’s. Corbin didn’t need the dim lights of the bar to see the hurt and anger in his lover’s eyes. He was responsible for them being there.
The woman—Sonny?—shook her head. “Don’t no me, Stan. And don’t drag me into the middle of this. You think you can tell me what to do after not seeing me for this long? Fuck that.”
Corbin couldn’t stop the admiration at Sonny’s feisty ire. Was it wrong to like her already? Even though not a second ago her tongue had been firmly in Levi’s mouth? A mouth, in Corbin’s opinion, that was strictly his to worship?
“In fact,” Sonny went on, the steel in her voice growing stronger, “take a look around you. Remember where you are. You’re giving everyone here a great show. The kind that will end up on Twitter. Do you want that?”
Levi’s jaw bunched. And still he didn’t move. Or release Sonny’s hand.
Corbin shot a glance at the dark shadows of the immediate vicinity. The music had started up again only a few moments after Levi and Sonny had left the stage. Someone else was now singing their heart out to an old boy-band song, but the bar’s patrons weren’t paying much attention. Most watched the little show he and Levi and the woman in Levi’s arms were putting on with avid interest. More than one, Corbin noticed, held their smartphones up in the unmistakable I’m-recording-this-for-prosperity position.
He bit back a groan. Damn it, when he’d followed Levi into the karaoke bar he hadn’t planned on this.
He’d come home after spending too many days mourning in L.A., with the intention of telling Levi he was sorry. Of asking the man to please tell him of the grief in his heart. To begin the healing process with him, where Corbin wanted to be.
But the apartment had been empty.
And then, from the large living room window, Corbin had spied Levi walking along the wharf their home was built on and had run after him.
Chased him. As he always would.
Followed him into the bar.
Found him on the stage, microphone in hand.
At the sight, Corbin’s heart had clenched. Levi’s voice always turned Corbin into a puddle of desire and need. He’d slipped into a booth to watch him sing, knowing the mellifluous sound would ease the ache in his soul. And it had. Right up until the point where Levi and Sonny had kissed.
From that point onward, Corbin’s body and emotions had fought a fucked-up battle. One not intended to be witnessed by a curious audience armed with iPhones and Galaxies and whatever the hell the cool kids were using these days.
Which made him approaching Levi and Sonny when they’d come off stage stupid.
Fucked-up.
Which is what he was.
Turning his attention back to Levi, he took a step towards him. “I messed up, Levi,” he said, keeping his voice low. Private. For Levi’s—and Sonny’s—ears only. “I know that. And I want to sort it out, but Sonny—”
“Sonja,” Levi and the woman both said at the same time, Levi’s tone flat and angry, hers strangely…broken.
“Sonja—” Corbin emphasized her name, holding Levi’s glare, “—is correct. This isn’t the place for it. We’re both public figures, Levi. I know you Australians are a little more laidback with celebrities than us Americans, but if a scene is being made…” He left the implication hanging on the air between them.
“Your boyfriend is a wise man, Stan,” Sonja muttered. “You should listen to him. Go with him now. Fix up whatever it is you both screwed up and forget about what happened between you and I.”
Levi didn’t utter a word. Nor did he move. Not until a white light flashed close by. A camera. Or a phone.
At the blinding intrusion, he flinched. He swung his stare to Sonja.
Corbin saw his Adam’s apple slide up and down his throat before he turned back to him.
“Please, babe?” Corbin whispered. Fuck, whispered. Here he was, begging. A renowned Hollywood screenwriter capable of making the likes of Gosling and Tatum do exactly what he wanted with just a few words on paper, and he was begging.
Love truly did take a guy by the balls and squeeze.
“Get out of here, Stan,” Sonja ordered, slipping away from Levi with a smooth sideways step. “Go be with who you should be with.”
And before Levi—or Corbin, for that matter—could say a word, she strode away, her petite, black-clad form devoured by the darkness of the bar with but a few steps.
Corbin swallowed, a lump roughly the size of the rock of Gibraltar suddenly lodged in his throat. He drove his nails—chewed to the quick since the funeral—into the palms of his hands and turned back to Levi.
Another smartphone flash detonated to Corbin’s left, one of the irritating kind that fired three times before blinding everyone in a five-mile radius. Levi flinched.
“Time to go,” Corbin ground out, closing the distance between him and Levi to shield Levi from the intrusive flash. It wasn’t often he took charge. Not when it came to this sort of thing. Both of them had a certain level of fame, but Levi’s far outstripped Corbin’s for public awareness. Usually, Corbin let his partner deal with the attention—it was the way Levi worked—but this, right now? Nope. Someone had to make the first move and it was going to be him.
Snaring Levi’s hand in a firm grip, he threw the surrounding people a quick smile. “Think I’m going to take the rock star home,” he chuckled.
The crowd chuckled back.
Without looking at Levi, he turned and walked through the bar, smiling at any flash that fired around them. A few steps from the door, Levi overtook him.
A few steps beyond it, out on the sidewalk, the brightest flash of the night fired.
“Oi! Levistan!” a male voice called. “Who’s the chick you were kissing inside?”
Corbin’s gut churned. Christ, that was all they needed. Carl Holston. The notorious Australian paparazzo. In their faces and asking questions.
Levi ignored the man. Corbin took his cue from his lover and did the same. It was tricky. What he wanted to do was swing around, grab Holston’s camera from his hand and break the guy’s nose with it. Instead, he tightened his fingers around Levi’s and quickened his pace, hurrying as fast as possible without jogging away from the paparazzo.
Who followed.
Of course.
“Hey, Levistan!” Holston called. “Are you and Smith still together if you’re kissing women? You still gay?”
At the sight of the taxi cruising along the street toward them, its vacant light bright in the dark night, Corbin let out a relieved breath. He may have followed Levi the few blocks it took to get to the karaoke bar on foot, but they were getting out of here by taxi.
Once again without consulting Levi, he flagged the cab down, hurried to its back passenger door—still without releasing Levi’s hand—and yanked it open.
Heart beating fast, he turned to his lover. Their stares connected for a split second, long enough for Corbin to see the angry pain in Levi’s dark eyes, and then, wordlessly, Levi climbed into the back seat.
White light flashed to Corbin’s right, Holston desperate to get that last shot of his target. “Cheers, fag.”
The sneered insult was so low Corbin could barely hear it over the noises on the busy street. But he did hear it. And it was the final straw of the night.
Spinning on his heel, utilizing all the reflexes ten years of playin
g competition beach volleyball had given him, he snatched the paparazzo’s massive SLR camera from his hands and smashed it against his jaw. “Cheers, bigot,” he shot back, tossing the camera to the sidewalk as Holston staggered sideways.
Fuck it. If the prick wanted to sue, he could give it his best shot. Corbin was done with swallowing Holston’s annoying shit.
Dropping into the seat beside Levi, he grinned at Holston, now snarling at him from the sidewalk. “Nice camera, by the way.”
And before the man could utter a word, Corbin pulled the door shut.
The silence in the cab wrapped around him, thick and stifling. He flicked Levi a quick glance, his pulse pounding faster at the unreadable expression on Levi’s face. He swallowed. “I—”
“Bourkenbac Wharf,” Levi said, leaning forward to speak to the taxi driver.
A shiver rippled up Corbin’s spine. Not just at the tempered anger in Levi’s voice, but at the latent control in it. That Corbin still found Levi’s Australian accent as sexy as hell didn’t help either.
The trip to their home lasted four minutes. Just four minutes. Never had four minutes of Corbin’s life been so heavy with tortured silence. He sat beside Levi, wanting to tell him everything. To say sorry.
To kiss him. To see if Levi’s lips tasted different after kissing Sonja. To see if her kiss lingered on them in any way.
But he didn’t say a word. Not one. And neither did Levi.
When the cab pulled up beside the wharf on which their apartment was built, Levi opened the door before Corbin could make a move.
“Fifteen fifty,” the driver mumbled over his shoulder.
Corbin dug at his back pocket for his wallet.
Levi thrust his hand through the driver’s open window, a hundred-dollar bill in his fingers. “Keep the change.”
“Thanks, mate.” The driver smiled up at him. “Always knew you were a good bloke. Let me know if that tosser back there gives you any grief. I’ll vouch for you.”
For a moment, Corbin thought the cab driver was referring to him, and then it dawned on him the man was talking about Holston. At least, he hoped he was.
“No worries,” Levi answered. He was at the locked gate at the beginning of the wharf by the time Corbin climbed out of the taxi and stepped onto the sidewalk.
Corbin’s throat tightened. His gut churned. He didn’t know what to do. Follow him? Life with Levi was amazing, incredible, but when the guy clamped up on his emotions…fuck.
He lingered on the sidewalk for a moment, willing the strength he’d felt back in the bar when he’d approached Levi and Sonja to return.
Damn it, man. Go after him. If you don’t, your relationship—
Levi turned to face him, his hand on the gate’s security lock, his stare unwavering. “Are you coming?”
Pricking heat flowed through Corbin’s body, swift and scouring. He let out a ragged breath, nodded once and damn near jogged to the gate.
Levi’s eyes held his. Neither moved for a second, just studied each other. Corbin swallowed. “Levi,” he began, his voice a cracked whisper.
Something dark, something…hot flickered in Levi’s eyes, there and gone in a heartbeat. His jaw bunched beneath his beard, his nostrils flared and then, without a word, he turned from Corbin and pulled the gate open.
Corbin closed his eyes and blew out another shaky breath. “Okay, this is going to be fun,” he muttered, following.
The walk to their home—an expansive apartment at the end of the Bourkenbac Wharf complex that offered breathtaking views of Sydney Harbour and the city skyline—was strained. Silent.
Corbin strode beside Levi, searching for something to say. Something to break the tormented void. He made a living from words. He’d written some of the most awarded movies and television shows ever filmed. He’d written scripts that caused critics to weep and politicians to praise him. So why the hell was he finding it so hard to find the right words now?
Because it’s not an award in jeopardy. It’s your heart. And your future. And your everything.
He ground his teeth. Damn, why weren’t they saying anything to each other?
Why weren’t they—
The soft clink of keys killed the frustrated thought. He started and then balled his fists when Levi opened the privacy gate at the top of the short flight of stairs leading up to their apartment’s door without a word.
Corbin dragged his hands through his hair and scowled up at his lover’s back. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Fun like a barrel of monkeys on crack.”
He climbed the stairs to Levi. Waited for him to unlock the door to their home. Followed him in. Closed the door behind him.
And let out a shout when Levi slammed him against the wall and pinned him there with his hips.
A shout Levi captured with his mouth.
The kiss was brutal. Savage. Levi bit down on Corbin’s bottom lip, sucked it into his mouth. He snared Corbin’s hands and rammed them to the wall, palm-to-palm, lacing their fingers together with a punishing grip. Corbin groaned into his mouth, the unexpected assault flooding him with molten heat and need.
Oh God, how had he walked away from this?
Levi drove his hips forward, grinding their groins together. The rigid length of his cock pushed against Corbin’s, a thick pole of undeniable lust. Fresh heat surged through Corbin’s body, pooling in his balls. He rolled his hips, needing to feel Levi’s cock on his.
It had been too long.
With a growl, Levi tore his mouth from Corbin’s, hooked his fingers beneath the open neck of Corbin’s shirt and ripped it apart.
Buttons popped and flung through the air. Bounced on the marble floor.
Corbin gasped.
Levi didn’t look into his face. He just snared another handful of Corbin’s shirt, lower down his body, and yanked it open. Completely exposing Corbin’s torso.
Corbin didn’t move.
When Levi’s nostrils flared, when his chest rose with a deep, ragged intake of air, Corbin’s cock throbbed, knowing what was to come.
And it did. Levi flattened his palm to the side of Corbin’ face, turned Corbin’s head and scored a line of fierce, sucking bites down the column of his throat, his chest, to his right nipple.
Corbin writhed against the wall, his knees weak. He reached for Levi’s hair, only to have his lover slap his hands away. He moaned, his hips thrusting upward of their own accord, his body wanting to fuck the man he loved even as that man reduced him to an object to be taken. Used.
“Fuck, babe,” Corbin groaned. The strength to keep his neck straight, to keep his knees locked had deserted him. As had the strength to form sounds beyond guttural words. But words still needed to be said. They needed to… “T-talk…we need…to…”
Levi sucked on his nipple, hard. Shards of tight pain speared through him, sinking into his engorged cock, making it spasm in his jeans. And then, oh fuck, yes, Levi was tugging at his belt, releasing the buckle. Lowering his zip. Shoving his hand into his—
He wrapped strong fingers around Corbin’s cock and squeezed. Corbin let out a shaky cry, eyes closing at the raw pleasure consuming him.
Levi squeezed his cock again, harder this time, dragging his thumb over its crown even as he returned his mouth to Corbin’s. He lashed at Corbin’s tongue with his own, one hand cupping Corbin’s chin as his other worked Corbin’s engorged erection. Fucking his mouth as he pumped his cock.
Brutal.
Savage.
Unrelenting.
The heat of a building orgasm tingled at the base of Corbin’s spine. He was going to come soon. Here, against the wall of their apartment. Without Levi uttering a word to him.
A groan of torment vibrated low in his chest. He shouldn’t let this happen. Not until they talked. About their loss, the funeral, the kiss at the karaoke bar.
Hungry desire flooded through Corbin at the thought of Levi kissing the woman and his cock stiffened more in Levi’s grip.
His lover growled into hi
s mouth, and for a heartbeat the kiss became wilder, almost cruel, and then Levi was looking into his eyes, really looking at him, his breath a hot pant on Corbin’s lips.
Corbin stared back, his own breath shallow, rapid. Every fibre in his body craved Levi. And yet…
The memory of Levi kissing Sonja filled his head again, a vivid replay of a moment Corbin couldn’t shake. His cock responded to the memory, throbbing in Levi’s tight hold.
“What are you thinking about?” Levi’s voice rasped over his fraying sanity. “To make your cock spasm in my hand like that?”
Corbin’s throat constricted. His gut churned. He gazed into Levi’s dark eyes, thrust his hips forward, pumping his erection through Levi’s enveloping grip and said, “You.”
Once again, Levi’s nostrils flared. “Really?”
Corbin licked his lips. “Kissing the woman at the—”
Levi crushed his mouth with his. Punished his lips, his tongue. Nipped them, sucked them. Took utter possession of them, all the while pumping his fist up and down Corbin’s shaft.
It was too much. Too much and so good and so…so…dominating.
Corbin’s head spun. Trembles wracked his body. Dire need turned his balls to swollen globes of pressure. He raked his hands over Levi’s back, his shoulders, up into the hair at his nape. He fisted them there, desperate for something, anything to anchor himself to.
He was going to come. He couldn’t stop it. He was going to come, and when he did his sanity was going to be—
Levi pulled away from him. Staggered back a step, his face buried in his hands. “Fuck, what am I…”
The question—muffled by his palms—whispered on the suffocating silence. Corbin stared at him, his heart beating a wild tattoo in his ears, his body aching for release. “Levi?” He took a step toward his lover. “Tell me what’s going on. What are you thinking now? What are you—”
He didn’t get a chance to finish. Levi grabbed his wrist and hauled him to his body, taking possession of his lips once more.
Kissing him, spinning him around, driving him backward into the living room, stripping him of his shirt as they went. Corbin’s butt cheeks hit the back to the large leather sofa dissecting the room, halting their progression. But not Levi’s carnal assault.
Blame it on the Bass: Heart of Fame, Book 6 Page 4