Page 23 of Prelude of Love (Harmony of Hearts #6)

Chapter Fourteen

DUKE

I stood in the kitchen, chopping vegetables while Early flitted around me like an excited hummingbird. He hummed Chance’s latest song under his breath, making me want to grab him and kiss the smug smile off his face.

“The roast is coming along perfectly.” He peeked in the oven for the fifth time in ten minutes. “And these potatoes will be amazing once they’re done. You always make the best mashed potatoes.”

“They’re nothing special.” I focused on dicing carrots, though my knife work wasn’t as steady as usual.

“Mm-hmm.” His knowing tone made me chop harder. “And you definitely didn’t spend twenty minutes picking out the perfect wine earlier.”

“It’s called being a good host. ”

“And you constantly checking your watch has nothing to do with counting down until seven o’clock?”

I set the knife down with more force than necessary. “I’m making sure everything will be ready on time.”

Early wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, pressing his cheek between my shoulder blades. “Remember when Bolton came over for dinner that first time? You were just as nervous back then.”

I sighed at the memory. “That was different.”

“Was it?” Early’s fingers traced patterns on my stomach. “Because you were tense until he got here. Then it turned into three amazing years.”

“Bolton was different,” I insisted, though the words felt hollow. “He lived and worked here in Sunnyside. Chance is passing through for his movie.”

“Yeah, and Bolton was only supposed to be a fun weekend.” Early’s laugh vibrated against my back. “Yet that turned into years of happiness until he moved to Wintervale.”

I turned in his arms, meeting his knowing gaze. “Are you suggesting we could have Chance for years? It’s impossible when he’ll go back to LA when filming wraps.”

Early shrugged, his eyes twinkling. “His mom, dad, and uncle are here, so he’d have other reasons to stay. Plus, the movie might film the sequel here if it does well.”

The possibility sent an unexpected wave of longing through me that I suppressed. “I can’t think that far ahead. This is just dinner.”

“Whatever happens, happens.” Early rose on his toes to kiss me. “Let’s have some fun and stop overthinking it.” He moved to attend to the stove.

The doorbell chimed at exactly seven o’clock. He gave me a delighted look from where he stood stirring the gravy.

“Right on time,” I muttered, impressed despite myself. After years of Early’s chronic lateness to everything, punctuality scored major points with me.

I opened the door to find Chance looking as if he’d stepped off a magazine cover. His fitted black button-down hugged his lean muscles, and dark jeans emphasized his long legs. His sandy-blond hair falling in his eyes gave me an itch to brush it back.

“Hi,” he said with a warm smile that lit up his face.

Before I could respond, Early darted past me. “You made it!” He pulled Chance into a hug that lingered long enough to make my mouth go dry. “And looking sexy as hell, I might add.”

A faint hint of a blush graced Chance’s cheeks. “I wanted to dress up for such excellent company.”

“Consider me impressed.” Early always knew how to ease tension, even if his methods sometimes frustrated me. “The roast still needs a few more minutes. Duke, why don’t you show Chance around? Especially your vinyl collection. I think he’d love to see it.”

Despite Early’s ulterior motives, I led Chance upstairs. “Fair warning. He calls this room my music cave.” I flipped on the light, illuminating my sanctum.

The room wasn’t huge, but I’d maximized every inch of space.

Custom-built shelves lined three walls from floor to ceiling, filled with meticulously organized vinyl records.

A turntable sat on a solid oak cabinet that housed my speaker system.

The fourth wall featured framed concert posters and rare album art, each piece curated over years of collecting.

Chance’s eyes widened as he took in my pride and joy.

“Holy shit, this is incredible!” He moved closer to examine the collection, his fingers hovering over the alphabetized spines.

As his gaze traveled along the shelves, he froze.

“You have original pressings of Midnight Reverie’s first album? Wow .” His voice held genuine awe.

“You know them?” I asked, surprised anyone else had heard of the obscure jazz band. Most people under forty drew a blank at the mention of their name.

“Are you kidding? Their experimental fusion of jazz and rock basically invented a whole new genre in the seventies.” Chance’s fingers traced the album's spine with the delicate touch of someone who understood its value. “This is museum-worthy.” His excitement was infectious, reminding me of the thrill I’d experienced when I’d first discovered the album at a tiny record shop in Portland.

I relaxed as we discussed our favorite tracks and rare B-sides.

His genuine enthusiasm and deep knowledge of music history drew me in despite my reservations.

He spoke about complex jazz arrangements with the same passion I’d seen him display onstage, proving his talent went far beyond just performing.

Then he froze, pulling out a familiar black sleeve with silver text. “Wait, this is the Japanese special edition of our first EP. There were only five hundred made!” He turned to me with an accusatory grin. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

Heat crept up my neck as I debated how much to reveal about my fanboy past. “I might have been following your career since you debuted.” The words came out gruffer than intended, but Chance’s delighted expression told me he didn’t mind.

“But that was years before you met Dad,” Chance said, eyebrows raised in a perfect imitation of Sir’s signature look.

“I was a Four Princes fan first,” I admitted, running my hand along the shelf of organized records.

“But when I heard about Sir’s son starting his own band, I was curious.

Then I listened and…” I shrugged, downplaying how much his music had af fected me.

“You have your own sound, your own style. You’re not riding anyone’s coattails. ”

Something vulnerable flickered in Chance’s eyes before he carefully replaced the record. When he turned back, he’d moved close enough I could smell his cologne. The scent reminded me of leather and whiskey, with undertones that spoke of late nights and secret desires.

“You enjoy my music that much?” His voice dropped to that velvet tone that haunted my dreams, the one that made Early writhe beneath me when we played Chance’s songs in bed.

I crossed my arms, drawing myself up to my full height, making sure I towered over him. “Don’t make it mean anything.”

He took a bold step toward me. His sexy smirk had gotten him everything he wanted his whole life, but I refused to be another conquest. Too bad my body had other ideas when his tantalizing cologne invaded my personal space.

“I want to know how much.” His fingertips played with the hem of his shirt.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” I warned.

His eyes darkened, his baby blues turning stormy with lust. “Maybe I love dangerous games. Maybe I’ve been thinking about how your hands would feel pinning me down.”

An image hit me hard of Chance spread out beneath me, naked and aroused, finally silencing his smart mouth with my demanding kiss.

My fingers twitched with the urge to grab him, to teach him a lesson about flirting with married men, especially ones who wanted nothing more than to break him apart and put him back together again.

“You should think carefully about your next move.”

Instead of backing down, he stepped closer. I could feel the heat radiating off him. “Or what? You’ll punish me?” He tilted his head, exposing the elegant line of his throat, begging me to mark him with my teeth.

“Chance.” The single word came out as a warning, rough and dark. But my resolve weakened when his talented tongue darted out to wet his plump lower lip.

“Damn, you actually growl.” He shivered, but his eyes sparked with challenge, daring me to do my worst. “What else do those muscles do besides intimidate people? Because I can think of so many better uses for them.”

I caught his wrist as he reached for my chest, desperate to maintain the last shred of my control. “Don’t.”

“Why not?” He pressed against my grip to test my strength. “Your husband’s downstairs, hoping we hit it off. And from the way you’re looking at me right now, I’d say we’re hitting it off just fine.”

I tightened my hold on his delicate wrist, marveling at how small and fragile he was compared to me. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Yes, I do.” He leaned close enough to feel his breath against my neck, sending desire flooding through me. “I think you want to throw me down and teach me some manners. Show me what happens when I push you too far.”

Every muscle in my body tensed with the effort not to do that. His cologne filled my lungs, making it hard to think straight. He was too close, too tempting, radiating heat and challenge. My control was a fraying thread, ready to snap at any moment.

“Back. Up.” Each word felt as if it was being dragged from my throat, rough with need.

“Make me.” His free hand came up to rest on my chest, fingers splaying over my heart, which thundered beneath his touch. “Unless you’re scared you’ll enjoy it too much?”

The sound that escaped me was pure animal instinct. In a fluid motion, I spun us, pressing his back against the shelves to pin him in place. His sharp intake of breath sent satisfaction coursing through me like a shot of whiskey.

“Careful what you wish for.” I braced an arm above his head, using my body to cage him in. His smaller frame fit against mine, stoking the fire in my blood. “Some of us bite.”

There was no fear in his beautiful eyes, only eager excitement that made my dick throb. “Promise? ”