Page 24 of Prelude of Love (Harmony of Hearts #6)
The urge to silence him with a kiss overwhelmed me.
Against my will, I leaned in, unable to resist the pull.
It didn’t help that I could almost feel Early urging me to act, to make a convincing argument for Chance to join us in bed.
My husband’s encouraging voice in my head wasn’t helping my self-control.
My struggle became more dire when his arousal pressed against me. The things it made me want to do to him gave me whiplash. I wanted to pick him up, wrap his long legs around my waist, and show him what happened to bratty rock stars who played with fire. Things were getting too muddled in my mind.
Before I could give in to my darkest urges, Early’s voice floated up the stairs. “Dinner’s ready!”
I’d never been so grateful for an interruption in my life.
One more minute alone with Chance in this room, surrounded by the physical evidence of my admiration for him, and I might have done something that would have complicated our evening.
Or worse, would have made Early insufferably smug about being right about our chemistry.
I pulled back to get some distance, but it didn’t make it any easier to breathe. My body protested the loss of contact, craving more of his heat against me.
Chance held my gaze as he adjusted his erection, smirking at me and not the least bit ashamed. His expression promised our conversation wasn’t over.
Before I could do something stupid like drag him back against me, I walked out of the room without a word. He followed behind me, his footsteps carrying the same confidence as his cocky attitude.
I guided him into our cozy dining room, which looked even better than usual, thanks to Early’s efforts to make it perfect for tonight. The warm glow from the chandelier overhead caught the deep red of the cabernet Sauvignon already breathing in our best crystal glasses.
Fresh flowers from our garden provided subtle pops of color in the vase at the center of the table, their sweet fragrance mingling with the mouthwatering aroma of roasted meat wafting from the kitchen. The room radiated the thoughtful attention to detail that made our house a real home.
I went into the kitchen to carry the roast on its serving platter to the table. The browned meat rested on a bed of roasted root vegetables, steam rising in appetizing tendrils. My husband had outdone himself with the presentation, making the meal look like something from a cooking magazine.
“It smells incredible,” Chance said, inhaling as he took his seat at the table. His eyes widened with genuine appreciation as he looked over the spread. “I never have home-cooked meals while I’m on the road, so this is a real treat.”
After we plated our meals, Early sat on my left with Chance across from me. I lifted my wineglass. “To good food and better company. ”
Early and Chance raised their glasses as well, completing the toast with gentle clinks of crystal.
I watched as Chance brought the first forkful of roast to his lips. The moment the food touched his tongue, his eyes fluttered closed, and he let out a deep, appreciative moan that gave me all the wrong ideas.
“Oh my god,” he moaned. “This is amazing. The meat is so tender it melts in your mouth.”
Early shot me a knowing look as Chance sampled the truffle mashed potatoes next. Another soft sound of pleasure escaped him as he savored the first bite.
“These potatoes are sinful.” He licked a stray bit of potato from his lower lip. “I can’t believe you made these from scratch. They’re so delicious.”
My chest swelled with pride even as other parts of me responded to his sensual appreciation of my cooking. The way he pulled each bite from his fork, letting the tines drag across his lips, was doing dangerous things to my concentration.
His soft moan of delight made me shift in my seat. “This is one of the best meals I’ve had since coming to Sunnyside.”
“Duke’s an amazing cook,” Early praised, his foot brushing against my calf under the table. “Everything he makes is incredible, but he outdid himself tonight. It’s almost like someone wanted to show off.”
Chance nodded as he continued eating. “I can tell. The love that went into this meal comes through in every bite.” He sucked a drop of gravy from his fork .
I focused on my plate, though I couldn’t help stealing glances at Chance’s obvious enjoyment. Each appreciative sound he made, each sensual slide of his utensil between his full lips, stirred my lust. Early’s smirk told me he knew what Chance’s display was doing to me.
The conversation flowed as we ate, with Chance sharing his experiences on tour. I found myself content to listen, watching how animated he became when discussing music. His hands moved expressively as he described writing sessions that went until dawn, his eyes bright with passion.
“There I was, still in my stage makeup, trying to convince a gas station attendant at three in the morning that yes, I really needed seventeen energy drinks, and no, I wasn’t planning to drink them all myself.”
Early’s laugh rang out, pure and delighted. “Please tell me you didn’t drink any of those.”
“Only three,” Chance admitted with a grin. “The rest went to our sleep-deprived sound crew.”
I hadn’t expected him to be so normal. Despite his fame, he told self-deprecating stories and asked thoughtful questions about Early’s café and my bar and grill. There was none of the entitled attitude I’d braced myself for.
“The thing about performing is,” Chance said, his voice dropping into that rich timbre that made my grip tighten on my fork, “sometimes you forget yourself entirely. It’s like the music takes over, and you become a conduit for something bigger than yourself.”
Early’s hand found mine under the table, squeezing gently. He knew how much I understood that feeling, even if I hadn’t performed in years.
“The best shows are the ones where you come off stage with no clear memory of what happened,” Chance continued. “You’re running purely on instinct and emotion.”
His voice wrapped around the words like smoke. When he talked about music, all his carefully maintained walls seemed to fall away, revealing something authentic and compelling beneath the polished exterior.
Chance listened when Early spoke, giving him his full attention. The natural chemistry between them was undeniable, but instead of jealousy, I felt a warm appreciation for how easily they connected.
“Since you’re a huge music fan, do you play any instruments?” Chance asked me.
I nodded. “Guitar, piano, violin, and drums. My mother ran a music school, so I grew up surrounded by music.”
“That’s amazing!” Chance’s enthusiasm was infectious. “We should jam together sometime. I’d love to hear you play.”
My pulse quickened at the thought of our voices harmonizing, his rich baritone blending with mine, made my cock stir with interest. I shifted in my seat, grateful for the table hiding my body’s reaction. “Maybe,” I said noncommittally, though inside, I craved the opportunity.
“Duke used to perform regularly,” Early added, his foot nudging me. “He has such a commanding stage presence. He also has an amazing voice, although he rarely sings in front of anyone other than me.”
His gaze burned me with the fires of his visible desire. “I bet you do. There’s something magnetic about someone who knows their way around multiple instruments. The thought of your fingers moving over the strings makes me think things you’d probably get mad at me for.”
“Music’s always been a huge part of my life,” I admitted, trying to redirect from the heat building between us. “My mother made sure of that.”
Early watched with knowing satisfaction, occasionally adding comments that pushed us to explore our shared passion further.
I couldn’t deny that Chance’s musical soul called to mine in a way I hadn’t experienced since my mother passed.
The realization that I was developing an interest in him beyond mere physical attraction troubled me.
“It’s beautiful watching you two speak the same language,” Early commented.
I wanted to protest, to maintain some emotional distance, but Chance chose that moment to demonstrate a particular vocal run he’d been working on. The pure sensuality of his voice, combined with his obvious talent, had me gripping my napkin.
My protective instincts screamed at me to pull back, to guard my heart and Early’s. But watching my husband’s delighted expression as he witnessed our connection, feeling the draw of Chance’s artistic soul, it was already too late.