Duke heaved a weary, long-suffering sigh.
“Look at me.” I cupped his face between my palms, waiting until his stormy gray eyes met mine. “Nothing will ever change how you love me.”
“I—”
“No, listen. If real feelings develop, we’ll handle it together.” I poured all my conviction into those words, needing him to understand. “But do you want to spend the rest of your life wondering what you missed? Your one chance to have a musician you genuinely respect in our bed?”
Duke’s sigh carried the weight of years of resistance crumbling. “Not really. I just wish he was older.”
Triumph surged through me, but I kept my expression gentle. It wasn’t about winning but about helping my husband embrace something beautiful without fear holding him back.
Instead of gloating, I pressed soft kisses along his jaw, each one a wordless promise of devotion. “We’re solid, hon. Nothing and no one can change that. Chance would only enhance what we have, not damage it.” The solid warmth of his chest against mine grounded us both in this moment of truth. “You know what would be fun? Teaching Chance all our favorite positions. Breaking in that gorgeous body of his while you watch.”
Duke’s grip tightened on my hip. “You’re incorrigible.”
“That’s why you married me. Besides, don’t act like you haven’t thought about him sucking your dick.”
“Damn it, Duchess.”
“What? I’m saying what we’re both thinking.” I shifted to straddle his hips, enjoying how his hands moved to steady me. “Plus, imagine the songs he’d write about us. We’d inspire his best work yet.”
Duke snorted. “Is that your plan? Become his muse?”
“It’d be a nice benefit. But we could be the oneswho show him what real love feels like and help him find his worth beyond the spotlight.”
“You’re always trying to save everyone,” Duke murmured, but his tone was fond.
“Not everyone.” I leaned down until our lips nearly touched. “Only the ones who need us most.”
“And you think Chance needs us?”
I brushed my nose against his. “Yes, your strength, my nurturing, and our combined ability to make him see stars.”
Duke laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I’ll consider it.” His answering kiss told me what he planned to do about it, and I couldn’t have been happier.
Chapter Four
DUKE
It was an almost unbearablyslow evening at the Hurly-burly Bar and Grille. The tables were full, but the only customer at the bar was a man hunched over his phone, scrolling through the Momentus photo app and looking more miserable with every shot of a beautiful woman clinging to some muscular man. Although Mr. Basic Burger and Fries had nursed only one beer, he radiated the maudlin misery only a recently dumped drunk guy could.
Since he looked one question away from flooding my bar with tears, I kept to the opposite end while polishing glasses. The sight of a new customer approaching brought relief until I noticed who it was.
My grip tightened around the stout glass when I spotted Chance Prince trying to go incognito and failing miserably. The oversized bomber jacket did nothing to hide his lithe frame, and the baseball cappulled low over his face only drew more attention to the sharp line of his jaw and those full lips that had starred in my fantasies last night as he sang “Requiem of Sin” while I’d claimed Early as mine.
My muscles tensed at the memory of how Chance’s voice had wrapped around us, driving every thrust and moan. Now, watching him slide onto the barstool like he owned it, despite his poor attempt at discretion, brought all those heated moments rushing back.
His sandy-blond hair curled rebelliously from beneath the cap, refusing to be tamed. Even in the dim bar lighting, his blue eyes sparkled with mischief when he looked up at me. “Hey.”
The casual greeting didn’t match the fire crackling through my veins. Not when I’d memorized every sultry note and growl of his voice in his songs. The real thing was more potent than the recording. It was deeper and richer, with an underlying rasp that made my skin prickle.
“Welcome.” I passed him a menu, proud of how steady my hand remained despite my body humming with awareness. Early would die of laughter if he could see me now, getting worked up over a simple greeting. “Let me know when you’re ready to order.”
He had a way of moving that drew attention even when trying to be subtle. Each gesture was fluid and deliberate, like he was aware of being watched. His jacket slipped off one shoulder as he accepted themenu, revealing a glimpse of a fitted black T-shirt that left little to the imagination. Not that I needed to imagine much after being so familiar with his work.
My husband would never let me live this down.
He glanced over the options. “Do you have anything local on tap that isn’t super bitter?”
