Daring Duke: Love Letters #4

by Sunday, Anyta

  “I’d planned on celebrating with you somehow,” Rohan said, slowing as they entered the next town. “Then you royally pissed me off.”

  Duke remembered the weekend before his birthday. Rohan had had taken that man up to his room. Dicked him hard.

  “I never. . . . I mean, I wouldn’t have sold it to anyone.”

  Duke noted Rohan’s grip whitening on the wheel.

  Rohan sighed. “I can’t be seen as gay for SmallQ. Your dad would never give me the chance.” His tone niggled at Duke. Like the words were rote. Rehearsed.

  Whatever. Duke understood. Rohan wanted to run SmallQ more than he wanted anything else. Including being who he truly was. Loving who he truly loved.

  Beard or not, it sounded like the start of a lonely life.

  He stared up at the approaching mansion’s prominent façade. Rounded, columned porch. Long windows, sloping roof, stone chimneys. All the money either of them could ever need, and yet it didn’t satisfy him.

  Rohan’s sister ran out onto the porch, pointing wildly, a wonderful smile lighting her face. Duke straightened. “Casey!”

  He jumped out of the car before it came to a complete stop. He engulfed Casey in a big hug and she cried his name against his chest. She stepped back and hit his arm, her speech stuttering as she told him off for being away so long.

  “I m-missed you. You should have visited.”

  Emotion lumped his throat. Casey was right. He kept fucking things up with the people who mattered.

  Rohan’s feet dragged over the porch, capturing Casey’s attention.

  She cooed Rohan’s name and swamped him in a hyperexcited hug. “Thank you for bringing D-Duke.” Casey rocked on her feet as her mom, Debbie, approached. “We were going to the library.”

  One of Casey’s favorite pastimes. Duke hated himself for not visiting more often. “Can I come?”

  Casey cheered, and Rohan smiled warmer and wider than he’d seen in years. “Let’s all go!”

  * * *

  They made a trip to Beauview Library, a large neoclassical building with steps leading to a pillared porch.

  Despite the sunshine, the bottom steps were slushy with snow and seeped through to Duke’s feet. The boots he wore looked good, but vanity had a price.

  Debbie tooted her horn as she turned the corner searching for a parking spot, and he and Casey waved. Rohan walked a few yards from them, caught on a business call. The man barely got a break.

  Duke liked how firmly and confidently he spoke to his colleagues, every now and then chuckling low and deep.

  Casey leaned into him, slowing her step. “See that boy up there?”

  Duke immediately tore his gaze from Rohan to a group of three teenage boys—maybe college freshmen—in fat jackets loitering outside the entrance.

  “Which one?”

  “The boy against the pillar.”

  The dude-in-question’s foot was planted against the pillar. Cool boredom draped his face as he nicked his head at his hooded friends.

  “Do you know him?” Duke asked.

  “He’s so cute!” Casey said a fraction too loud.

  The two fur-hooded dudes sniggered and hooted.

  “Your future wife’s coming up the steps,” one said with a barking laugh.

  Duke clutched Casey’s arm.

  “Fuck off,” the dude said. “As if.”

  Casey ducked her head against Duke’s shoulder and he wrapped an arm around her. The fuckers, how dared they.

  Rohan sidled over to them with a calculated mug. “You guys all right?”

  Casey turned to her brother and Rohan gathered her close. “Ignore them,” he said, steering her to the entrance.

  Duke had paused at the edge of the porch, fists screwed tight at his side.

  “I’ll be fine,” Casey said, and walked into the library.

  Rohan held the door open for Duke to follow, but the dude’s burst of laughter broke through his restraint.

  “What’s so funny, huh?” Duke said, striding toward them.

  Appalling words spewed from the teenagers’ mouths. Words cruel and mocking.

  Words Casey should never have said about her.

  Duke shoved the dude in the chest. “You’re a bunch of good-for-nothing losers. No decent person will ever find you attractive with a fucking cruel attitude like that.”

  “Dude, we’re just joking around.”

  “You’re not funny.” Duke shoved him once more for emphasis and glared at his cronies.

  He turned on his heel and headed for the entrance.

  Rohan’s gaze hit Duke’s with a contemplative intensity. His brow furrowed, and Duke tried to shiver. “Don’t hark at me. I know Casey can stand up for herself, but she was embarrassed, and those boys had it coming.”

  “Duke, I—”

  But Duke couldn’t handle Rohan’s silver stare a moment longer. He hoofed inside with a shrug. “Casey’s waiting.”

  Purposely avoiding Rohan, he settled into a couch with Casey and discussed their favorite recent reads.

  “You have to read this one. It’s v-very good.”

  “You bet.” Duke set that book aside to check out, and picked up Zonelation. “Want to read through this magazine and quiz me on my most matching man?”

  Casey’s smile was back, and it was better than ever.

  Duke would do anything in the world to keep it there.

  * * *

  Rohan pretended to check out books while surreptitiously watching Duke with Casey.

  Duke lounged on the couch as though conducting a therapy session as Casey asked him multiple-choice questions. They laughed as Casey teased Duke about his answers.

  “See?” his mom said, finding him watching the two. “There’s the real Duke.”

  It was all the real Duke. The fire was a part of him too. This was his heart.

  “I’m heading to the café with the newest Luis Norris mystery. Want to join me?”

  Rohan pushed the spines of the books he’d pretended to read back into the shelf. “I’ll catch you later.”

  She disappeared, and Rohan leaned against the shelf behind the couch and listened to Casey read out Duke’s result. “Your perfect man is someone who is organized and who can appreciate the passion in you, and help you when you need grounding.”

  Duke laughed, but the sound rang stiff. He nabbed the magazine. “Your turn.”

  Rohan moved around the couch and glanced down at Duke. “Make room for me?”

  Duke crossed his feet with a cheeky twist to his mouth.

  “Okay,” Rohan said. He grabbed Duke’s feet and swung him into a sitting position.

  Casey giggled at Duke’s high-pitched yelp.

  “Where were we?” he said.

  “Casey’s most matching man.”

  Casey sighed. “Not the cute boy outside.”

  Rohan patted her knee. “You have bad taste, honey. Those boys were idiots.”

  He swallowed at the tender memory of Duke verbally mowing down the smack-talking teens.

  All hard words and fiery will, Duke’s defensiveness and love had blown Rohan away.

  “Dickheads,” Duke agreed. “Idiots, dickheads and motherfuc—”

  Rohan slanted him a silent warning.

  Duke shut his mouth. Briefly. “They were, though.”

  They were.

  “Okay, my most matching man,” Casey said, beckoning her Cupid to do his job. “Then we’ll do Rohan’s.”

  Rohan stiffened, and Duke caught it. He spoke under his breath. “It’s just a stupid quiz. She doesn’t know.”

  “I don’t need to do the quiz,” Rohan said with a tight smile. “I know my best match.”

  “Who’s that?” Casey asked.

  Rohan’s gaze flickered to Duke and he steered it forward again. “Bianca, of course.”

  * * *

  The day flew by quickly. Before Duke knew it, he was at Rohan’s Lexus about to leave.

  Casey hugged him. “Come back soon, okay
?”

  Duke choked. This is what it should always feel like coming home.

  He slowly pulled back, grinning. “How about you come soon and stay a week with us in Greenville?”

  She jumped on the balls of her feet. “Really?” She looked at her brother. “Rohan, really?”

  Rohan’s voice sounded over the roof. “Our home is always open for you, Casey.”

  Duke hopped into the car and hid a sad smile behind a pretend text message. Our home. Two words he adored.

  But they’d never be really true.

  Trucks filled with wood, tile, and machinery sat outside the farmhouse. Workers in yellow safety helmets transported supplies in and out.

  Duke sighed at the sight of his family home.

  Only one more night.

  He weaseled inside and spotted his mom walking away from one of the contractors. He hadn’t seen her since last night. “Renovations again?”

  “Thought it was time for a change.”

  Duke followed her to the dining table where staff were setting up afternoon tea. Rohan caught up to them with Duke’s dad in tow.

  “Where’s all the stuff from my room?” Duke asked.

  “Those old things?”

  The casual way she said the words twisted his stomach. They were his childhood memories. “Yes. Those old things.”

  She poured tea into dainty china. “It isn’t like you need any of it anymore. Buy yourself some new things, honey.”

  Duke gripped the chair. Rohan shifted next to him, their sleeves brushing. “I liked my old stuff.”

  “Well, we donated most of it to Goodwill.”

  Duke swallowed. His old books. The cushions he’d made with Casey and Rohan the winter he’d turned seventeen. All his old clothes.

  They’d find a good home at Goodwill. He should concentrate on that, not the ache in his stomach.

  His fault, anyway. He should have taken them to the Greenville manor.

  He threaded a hand through his hair and hoped his “okay” didn’t sound too pathetic.

  Rohan was watching him, but Duke couldn’t make eye contact.

  “Drink some tea, Rohan,” Dad said, pouring himself some. “You need to care for your health now. SmallQ will drain you of your youth.”

  “Eat, drink, and sleep well,” Mom said. “How was the attic last night?”

  “Surprisingly warm,” Rohan said.

  “The offer of the inn is always there,” she said. “You’re too old to bunk with Duke.”

  Dad hummed. “On the other hand, the more time Duke spends with Rohan the better. He needs the influence.”

  Mom nodded. “Maybe he should meet some of your friends too. Your soon-to-be fiancé. Bonus points if you can hook him up with a smart girl to date.”

  Last straw.

  Duke slammed a fist on the table. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to come here.” He picked up the milk jug and poured slosh in his tea. “I am gay. I’m sorry you found me in the barn with the gardener, but that’s all I’m sorry for. I will always be gay.”

  The color drained from Rohan’s face as the line of his jaw tightened.

  Of course Rohan didn’t know he’d come out to his family. They had shut up really quickly about it. But he had to know they wouldn’t be accepting.

  Why else would Rohan need Bianca the Beard other than as a cover-up?

  Like always, Rohan’s voice was controlled. “That’s why you haven’t been back?”

  Dad glared at Duke. “Keep that to yourself. No one needs to know your personal business.”

  “You mean, no one needs to know you have a son who fucks dudes.”

  “Duke,” his mom said, shaking her head. “Keep your voice down.”

  “Whatever.” Duke stormed to the attic.

  Thank God he’d kept his old ice hockey gear up here in the trunk. He rifled through it until he found his old ice skates.

  Dad’s were there, too. From a time when Duke had potential, and messing around with him on the ice had been worth the investment.

  He hiked over frosted grass to the lake behind their house. Frozen good and solid.

  He yanked on his skates and vented his frustration through skating laps. Ten minutes later, he spied Rohan cutting across the grass with gear.

  Rohan tossed a puck onto the uneven ice and threw one of the hockey sticks, just like he used to do. Duke caught it with deft fingers.

  Legs, arms, and torso already strapped with protective pads, Rohan shoved a helmet over his face. He marked a goal with yellow cones, turned hard on the ice, and hunched low. “Say it as loud as you want.”

  Sight blurring with burning frustration, he skated hard with the puck, familiarizing himself with the environment. The cold seeped into him, and he willed it to numb him.

  He lined up for a penalty shot and pushed the puck hard toward the goal, yelling, “I love men.”

  Rohan caught the puck and sent it back. “Harder.”

  Immediately, Duke tried again, putting heat behind the swing. “I love to fuck.”

  “That’s right. Get it out.”

  Duke’s throat and chest felt on fire as he hit the puck a third time. “I loved to be fucked.”

  The puck smacked against Rohan’s chest. Duke hadn’t even tried to aim it into the goal. Through the gaps of the cage, Rohan’s eyes flickered. Had he heard the words as they were meant? Addressed to him?

  Rohan didn’t send him the puck back, but Duke wasn’t ready to stop. If Rohan wanted him to cleanse his system, Duke would.

  He skated up to Rohan and bowled into him. Rohan smacked back against the ice as Duke fell on top of him. He wrestled for the damn puck, his breath white vapor clouds. He pressed his forehead against Rohan’s hard helmet cage, his hockey stick slipping between them. He tried to pry the puck from the Rohan’s gloved grip, but his fingers were too cold, too clumsy.

  Duke ground his jaw and searched Rohan’s eyes. He needed to see that control slip. Needed to weasel under his skin.

  Needed to leave a mark like Rohan had left on his heart. “I want to be taken hard and raw. I want come splattered all over my back, trickling down my nape and pooling into the dimples of my ass cheeks. I want to wake up from sleep with a lubed dick sliding into my hole. I want to be taken, ravished. I want to return all the favors.”

  A hissed breath betrayed Rohan’s composure, and that steel gaze sliced deep into Duke like a knife in an electrical socket. Electricity riddled through him.

  Rohan dropped the puck and pushed Duke off him. Cold from the ice quickly seeped through his clothes and brisk air dragged between them, but it did nothing to stop the electricity.

  “Are you done?” Rohan asked.

  “I’m fifty fucking shades from done.”

  “Go on, then.” Rohan’s cool voice cut the connection.

  Duke shuddered with the loss, his nerve plummeting.

  A wave of regret rushed through him. What was he doing?

  He jerked himself back from Rohan and skated off the ice. He shoved off his skates and sank into his shoes. Didn’t look back once, paralyzed by the lump of self-disgust and sudden vulnerability in his throat.

  He squared his shoulders like he didn’t care. Like the brat they all thought he was, he kicked his way back into the house.

  * * *

  Rohan paused at the top stairs and peered into the room. Duke hadn’t noticed him yet. He lay on the bed grinding his palms against his eyes. “Fuck,” he said softly, angrily.

  Rohan caught his breath, mesmerized by the scene.

  Duke wore tight jeans and an olive pullover that molded to an even tighter torso. Even prone on the bed, he held himself with cocky confidence that suited his lithe, lean frame.

  He chuckled to himself. Duke’s rumble complemented him. Low and defiant, it skated along Rohan’s skin.

  He had seen the way Duke had admired him on the ice. Every one of his words had penetrated him.

  The surprise still thrummed in his veins. He’d known Du
ke liked to screw around. He’d known Duke wasn’t above flirting with him, cousin or not. But he’d always brushed it off as something akin to breathing—a natural reflex for Duke.

  He hadn’t let himself believe Duke might mean it.

  He propelled himself into the room and stripped off the remaining hockey pads.

  Duke side-eyed him. “Stripping again for me, are you?” he said with that fuck-the-world-I’ll-say-what-I-want tone. Like he didn’t give a shit what anyone thought.

  But cracks were beginning to damage his façade. A façade that had lasted too long without Rohan understanding the truth simmering behind it.

  He had messed up.

  He slipped the padded gear into the trunks and pulled out their suitcases. “Prepare yourself,” he said, planting them on the bed. “We’re going.”

  “What?”

  Rohan met his gaze. Being here hurt Duke, and he wouldn’t allow it a moment longer. “Pack your stuff. We’re going back to Greenville.”

  “But—”

  “We’re out of here in ten minutes, even if I have to sling you over my shoulder again.”

  He noticed Duke’s shiver now that he knew to watch for it. His breath caught. The beautiful man evoked sinful thoughts in him. Made Rohan want to dare them closer and learn Duke from beginning to end. His body, his mind, his heart.

  He steeled those thoughts. He needed to contain himself, his rising lust, the urge to throw propriety out of the window.

  He had built his whole career on knowing when to say no. Refusing bad deals, holding out for the right ones. Thinking hard about every decision and its effects.

  Saying no to Duke was the only option.

  He would take Duke back to the manor and repair their relationship. Help Duke see that he was a much better man than he let himself—or anyone else—believe.

  Duke blatantly folded his arms across his chest and stubbornly lifted his chin.

  But Rohan knew better now. Under the quips, the shrugs, and the middle-finger-flips—Duke cared.

  That nugget was most dangerous of all.