Dance With Me Read online

  I see you. I’m watching. Killing you, making you PAY for what you did, would be so damn easy. If you think I’m kidding, I’ve attached a photo of what I’d like to do to you.

  There’s a picture attached that makes me sick to my stomach. I drop the phone to the floor and grab a nearby wastebasket to hurl into, unable to run to the bathroom.

  “Starla?”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Honey, what is it?” Lia asks, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. “What was in that email?”

  “Oh my God.” I look up at Joy’s voice and see her reading the email. “For fuck’s sake.”

  “Let me see,” Lia demands. Joy passes her the phone, and they switch places. Lia reads while Joy comforts me.

  “It’s just a maniac who likes scaring you,” she says. But she’s wrong.

  “No,” Lia says flatly, and the next thing I know, she’s speaking into my phone, talking to Levi. “This is Lia. Joy and I are with Starla at her house, and we need you here, Levi. Starla’s been threatened. Yep. We’ll be here.”

  She hangs up, puts my phone to sleep, and sets it aside.

  “He’s on his way.”

  “I wish you hadn’t called him,” I whisper. I’m shaking. I’m dizzy. Blood rushes in my ears, through my head, making me unsteady.

  “He’s a cop, and he’s your boyfriend,” Joy reminds me, rubbing circles on my back. “He’ll take care of this.”

  “Just a stupid fan. It happens sometimes.”

  “He didn’t say he hated your new song,” Lia says. “He fucking threatened to kill you.”

  I fold over the wastebasket again, heaving.

  “Hey, he can’t hurt you, honey,” Joy says. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

  “No. They’re not.”

  My head comes up at the sound of Levi’s voice. God, he looks good. I’m so relieved to see him, tears suddenly flow, and I can’t stop them.

  He folds me into his arms and holds me close, kissing my head and temple.

  “You’re okay,” he says. “I promise, sweetheart, you’re okay.”

  “Here.” I open my phone and pass him the email. “Read it.”

  He’s quiet, but I watch his eyes. They go from brown to black with pure rage as he reads the words and then sees the photo.

  It’s Meredith and me at Nordstrom a few weeks ago, shopping. But whoever it is used Photoshop to make it look like we’re both dead. Bloody.

  It’s like something out of a horror movie.

  “Fuck me,” Levi growls. He taps on the screen, and then he pulls out his own phone and makes a call. “Yeah, it’s Crawford. I just sent an email to you from Starla’s email address. I need the original note traced. I’ll wait while you open it.”

  Levi kisses me again and rubs his hand soothingly up and down my back.

  “Yeah, I know. Great, work on it and keep me posted.”

  He ends the call and hugs me close again.

  “Thanks for calling me,” he says to Lia.

  “Of course. We’ll get out of your way. But, Starla, if you need anything, I’m just across the street. Don’t hesitate to call.”

  “Thank you,” I say with a watery smile. “And thank you for being here. For lunch and everything.”

  “Of course.”

  Both women hug me, and then they’re gone, and it’s just Levi and me, watching each other with sober eyes.

  “It’s probably nothing,” I say at last, wiping the tears from my cheeks. “Just some asshole who wants to scare me. It happens.”

  I stand and pace the room, suddenly filled with nervous energy.

  “How often does this happen, Star?”

  I stop and look at him. “People send stupid messages and comment on my posts on Instagram all the time. I hate your new song. You’re not that pretty. I don’t know what all the fuss is about, your talent is shit.”

  I shrug and pace into the kitchen where I pull a bottle of water out of the fridge and take a drink, the cold liquid soothing my hot throat.

  “That’s not the same thing, and you know it.”

  Nope. It’s not the same thing. But I feel like if I dwell on what’s in that email, I’ll completely fall apart.

  “Is it crazy that the part that fucked with me the most was seeing Meredith in that picture?” I scrub my hands over my face and walk out back to the pool area. I can sense the beginnings of fall in the air, and it feels good. Refreshing.

  “No, it’s not crazy,” Levi says from behind me. I turn to find him leaning against the doorjamb, his hands in his pockets. He took his leather jacket off, and he’s just in a white T-shirt. The sleeves are stretched tight around his muscular biceps.

  “You don’t have any tattoos,” I say.

  “No.” He watches me carefully.

  “I know, I’m all over the place. Maybe I just need to swim.” I strip out of my clothes and dive into the deep end. The water is cooler than normal this afternoon, but it’s refreshing, as well.

  I swim back and forth until my limbs are too tired to keep going. I climb out of the pool, and Levi is standing by with a big towel. He wraps it around me and pulls me to him, rocking us back and forth.

  “We should talk about this.”

  “Did your person trace the email?” I ask, looking up into his face. He frowns, and I know the answer isn’t what I want to hear.

  “No. It’s not traceable, unfortunately. But they’re still going to work on it, see if there’s a back door they’re missing.”

  “I see.” I lean against his chest and listen to his heartbeat for a moment. “I’m honestly a little surprised that this messed with me so much. I can let a lot roll off my shoulders. But Meredith . . .”

  “Shh.” He kisses my forehead. “Mer’s fine. I’ve called Mark to let him know what’s up, but she wasn’t directly threatened in the email, sweetheart. I’d say you’re the target, and it pisses me the fuck off.”

  His voice is hard again. I gaze up at him, so grateful that he’s here.

  “I don’t want you to leave.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I nod and pull away, but his arms tighten, keeping me close.

  I want him. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want Levi Crawford, and trust me, that’s fed my guilt in ways I don’t want to think about right now.

  I just know that I want him. Right now.

  “Levi,” I whisper, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard.

  “Starla, you’re upset.” He doesn’t pretend to not know what’s going through my mind, and I appreciate that.

  “Yes, I am. And I want you. I want you to make me forget, to make me feel. I feel alive with you, Levi.”

  He kisses my forehead, and his hands glide up and down my back, still covered with the towel.

  “Sweetheart—”

  “I’m not used to begging for sex, Levi, but if that’s what you want, I will. Please.”

  He lifts me, cradling me in his arms as he stomps through my house and up the stairs to my bedroom. He sets me on my feet, and I let the towel spill to the floor.

  “Jesus, you’re beautiful.”

  “And you’re overdressed.” I pull his shirt out of the waistband of his blue jeans and up over his head, then toss it on the tile. Before I unfasten his pants, I let my fingertips roam over his warm, smooth skin, taking in every defined muscle.

  “You’re hot.”

  He grins. “Thanks. I’m glad you approve.” He swallows again. “And if you keep touching me like that, this won’t last long.”

  I laugh, delighted with him, and reach for his pants. But before I can continue stripping him, he waves my hands aside and hurries out of his jeans, kicks them aside, and leads me back onto the bed.

  “I’ve dreamed of this for weeks,” he confesses as his fingertips glide up and down my torso, from my neck to my belly button and back again. “You need to know that once this happens, there’s no going back, Starla. This isn’t a one-night stand for me.
”

  “Message received.” I brush my fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair, loving the way the strands feel in my hand. “You make me feel things no one else ever has, and that both scares and thrills me.”

  His brown eyes find mine, and while holding my gaze, he tugs my nipple into his mouth, gently plucking it between his teeth.

  “Just enjoy,” he whispers and begins to explore me as if this were our first time together. As if he can’t get enough of looking at me, touching me.

  I sigh and close my eyes, circling my hips in invitation.

  “Watch me,” he commands.

  Two simple words, but when they come from Levi, they send shivers down my spine. I can’t take my eyes off him as he kisses down my sternum, licks my navel, then nudges his shoulders between my legs and grins as he stares down at the most intimate part of me.

  “Beautiful,” he mutters before licking me from pussy to clit, sending shock waves through my body, making me arch off the bed.

  “Holy shit!”

  “Easy,” he croons as he plants one hand flat against my lower stomach, holding me in place as he feasts on me, taking and giving so much back at the same time.

  I can’t keep my eyes open. I can’t keep from moving. I shake my head back and forth and circle my hips as the pressure builds at the base of my spine.

  “Levi, I’m going to—”

  “Do it.”

  I can’t hold back any longer. I come apart at the seams, crying out in delight as wave after wave of pleasure rolls over my body.

  Before I can catch my breath, Levi covers me, cradling my head in his hands as he slips inside of me and holds steady, watching my face with rapt attention.

  “Condom?” I ask breathlessly.

  “Already took care of it while you were delirious.” His grin is wicked as he pulls back and then sinks back in, setting a steady pace that makes me grasp onto his ass for dear life. “God, Starla.”

  “So good,” I agree, and feel him tense with the effort to keep his own orgasm at bay. “Give in.”

  “Too fast.”

  I cradle his face in my hands. “Give in,” I repeat and watch as he does just that, letting his orgasm take over.

  It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

  ~Levi~

  “You’re going to be the death of me.”

  I’m playing with her hair as she lies on my chest, both of us struggling to catch our breath.

  “That’s not funny.” She frowns up at me and then turns away, climbing out of the bed and padding into the en suite. I hurry into the other bathroom on this floor, clean up, and when I return to the bedroom, Starla is pulling on her clothes.

  “It’s just an expression,” I remind her, uneasy with the stiff lines of her shoulders and back. “You know that, right?”

  “Right.” She sighs and turns to look at me. “But after Rick, jokes about dying just aren’t funny, Levi.”

  “Who’s Rick?”

  She stares at me for a long moment. “Do you live under a rock?”

  “Keeping up with pop culture really isn’t my strong suit.” I tug on my jeans but don’t bother fastening them or pulling on my shirt. “So, who’s Rick?”

  “He was my fiancé,” she says as calmly as if she were telling me the temperature outside. “And he died.”

  “Start from the beginning.”

  “Let’s go downstairs,” she suggests, already walking ahead of me out of the room and down the stairs. “Rick was a race car driver. I met him at an event, and we were inseparable after that day.”

  Being jealous of a dead man isn’t something I’m proud of, but here we are.

  “He was successful and loved the thrill of racing. It scared the hell out of me. I wouldn’t get in one of those death traps if my life depended on it. And Rick always assured me he was safe. Careful. I believed him.”

  She fills a kettle full of water and sets it on the stove to boil. I sit in a stool at the island, watching her move about the kitchen, pulling out cheese, crackers, and fruit.

  “He asked me to marry him before my Belladonna tour, and things were good. We were on the same page about life goals.”

  “And what were those?” I ask, pulling her out of her reverie.

  She blinks at me twice and then answers. “No kids, focus on career, retire early.”

  “Okay, and then?” I don’t ask her if those are still her goals. We’ll get to that later.

  “I was on tour, and he was with me in Dallas for a show. He had a race the next day, and I told him not to come to the show in Dallas, that he should be in Florida where the race was, getting rest and practice. But Rick had a thing about missing any of my shows. He thought it was bad luck.”

  She rolls her eyes and shakes her head as she places the snacks on a cutting board.

  “He flew out to Florida after the show, but it was a late-night flight, and by the time he got there, got settled at the hotel, and headed to the race track, he hadn’t had much rest to speak of. I was so damn irritated with him.”

  The last sentence is a whisper as she pushes the board to the middle of the island. When the whistle blows on the water, she pulls the kettle off the flame and reaches for two mugs and some teabags.

  “Tea?” she asks.

  “Sure.”

  I don’t give a fuck about tea, or cheese and crackers for that matter, but I’m not about to stop her. She’s on a roll.

  “So, he called me, and he was kind of whiny about how tired he was. I was frustrated with him because I’d told him to go the day before. In fact, I think my exact words were, get the fuck to Florida. You’ve seen the show.

  “I think that hurt his feelings, or he was just stubborn and more determined to stay after that.”

  She shrugs a shoulder and pops a piece of Swiss into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

  “Either way, I didn’t coddle him during that call. I told him he was tired because he was a stubborn ass, and I didn’t feel sorry for him. I told him to suck it up and deal with it, and good luck.”

  She stares at the cracker in her hands, then looks up at me.

  “I didn’t say I love you. I didn’t say anything nice during that call, actually.”

  I remember the crash now, but I wait patiently and let her finish telling me herself.

  “The next thing I know, I’m getting a call from Bobby, Rick’s manager, who was with him, telling me that Rick screwed up in the race and was in a massive accident.” She looks me square in the eyes, and the turmoil churning within her is almost my undoing. “The car exploded, and he didn’t survive. I saw the crash on TV before they cut to commercial. I was praying that he somehow made it out alive, but he didn’t.”

  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

  “Yeah.” She sets the cracker aside and dunks her teabag in the hot water. “It was pretty horrible. And I had a bad case of survivor’s guilt because I was so mean to him that morning. And for a million other reasons.”

  “You didn’t know.”

  “No, but I feel guilty all the same. I told him to suck it up and just deal, and it probably cost him his life.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It’s absolutely true. He could have pulled out of the race altogether and cited medical problems. But I had to challenge him, and he died because of it.”

  “He died because he didn’t listen to common sense and get rest when he should have,” I counter. “He was an adult.”

  “I suppose.” But she doesn’t sound convinced.

  “What else are you feeling guilty about?”

  “Everything,” she says without even thinking it over. “It’s why I work so damn hard. If I’m working, sinking all of my energy into the job, I don’t have time to think about Rick and that whole clusterfuck. But it caught up to my health, and my doctor made me take this three-month vacation.”

  “How is it affecting your health?”

  “I was getting dizzy. I passed out twice on the road. I
was convinced I had a brain tumor, but the doctor said it was exhaustion and ordered mandatory rest.”

  “Good.”

  She raises her brow and takes a sip of her tea. “I hadn’t slept with anyone after Rick until you. That’s why I didn’t text or call you after. Because I felt a massive amount of guilt for not only being with you but also enjoying it so much.”

  “Starla, Rick would want you to move on with your life. He would want you to be happy.”

  She shakes her head adamantly. No.

  “Of course, he would,” I continue. “He loved you.”

  “No. He wouldn’t.” She takes a deep breath. “I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this. I probably should have made you sign an NDA when we started seeing each other.”

  “That’s the second and last time you’ll insult either of us like that.”

  Her cheeks darken with shame. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

  “Tell me.”

  “About a month or so before he died, Rick was filling out new insurance paperwork, life insurance and that sort of thing. Doing what he did for a living is dangerous, and he always had an updated will. He was making sure I was the beneficiary on everything since we were just a few months from being married. Anyway, I can’t remember exactly what led to it, but I said something about wearing black for a whole year if he died, out of respect. I said it in a joking way, you know?”

  I nod, waiting for her to tell me more.

  “And he said, ‘No, you’ll get in that coffin with me, babe. If I die, you die. There’s no happily ever after without me.’”

  I’ve never wanted to punch the hell out of a dead man so badly in my life.

  “I laughed at him, sure that he was continuing the joke, but he was dead serious. He was like, ‘no, you’re mine, and if one of us dies, the other does, too.’ I blew him off, and we never talked about it again.”

  “Starla, that’s not a normal thing for someone to say to a person they supposedly love.”

  “Well, I didn’t grow up in a typical loving family, and I’m not using that as an excuse, but I just blew him off because he was only thirty-two. I never expected him to actually die.”