“He requested that I aid him with his bath.” I gave a little jerk as the back of his thumb brushed over my lower lip. My gaze flew to him. Claude . . . he hadn’t touched me like this in well over a year. Maybe even two years, and there was a time when I wanted him to. When I looked forward to him visiting my quarters or summoning me to his, maybe even desperately, because I could touch him without guilt, because he knew what I could do— he understood the risks to his privacy, and I had to really concentrate to read him. My intuition wouldn’t stay quiet long, though. He could always tell when that happened. I would stiffen, pull away. That’s when Claude would prevent me from returning his caresses, his touches, and there was a tiny part of me that had gotten off a little on that. Well, there was a part of me that still did.
“And?” Claude pressed.
“Then he asked for me to join him in his bath and I did.”
One side of his lips curled up. “I’m sure all baths will now be dull in comparison.”
“Perhaps,” I murmured.
“What else?” His gaze flicked to mine.
“He . . . he touched me.”
“Like this?”
I nodded as he cupped both breasts, dragging his thumbs over the peaks of my breasts. A wisp of pleasure slowly curled through me, a simple reaction to touch— to any touch, and not necessarily Claude’s. I slid my hands over the desk, leaning forward a little. His gaze dropped once more. His lips parted as his fingers pressed into the flesh. Claude had always been a breast man. I watched him slip a finger along the neckline of my bodice, his skin paler than my own— paler and so much cooler than Thorne’s. My breath snagged again, but it wasn’t the Baron’s touch that caused that.
“Did he fuck you?”
There was a sharper twist of desire that had nothing to do with what Claude’s hands were up to. It was his words. It was the image of . . . of Prince Thorne that those words conjured up that caused me to squirm a little. “No.”
“Really?” Doubt filled his tone as he looked up at me.
“He used his fingers and I my hand.” The all-too-clear memory of that thickened my voice and my blood. “That was all.”
“Well, that is somewhat disappointing.”
A laugh bubbled out of me, drawing his sea-green gaze. “I’m sorry. It’s just that you seem genuinely disappointed.”
“I am.” A small smile appeared as he kneaded my skin. “I don’t like that you spend so many nights alone.”
Neither did I, but . . . “I enjoyed myself.”
“Good.” His attention once more returned to my chest. If he could spend the rest of his life fucking breasts, he’d be a happy man.
My gaze dropped to his groin, and I could see he was semi-aroused. I could reach for him. Touch him for at least a little bit before he’d stop me. He was obviously in some sort of playful mood this morning. I could guide him into me, urge him to take me right here on his desk. It wouldn’t be the first time, but . . .
Neither of us really wanted it from the other. Other than the breasts, I wasn’t his type. He preferred lighter hair and slimmer frames, even when it came to the men. And me? I wasn’t sure what my type was. There was nothing in any particular trait of a man or woman I fancied more than another.
Still, if I reached for him, he wouldn’t reject me. Not just because I was a warm body. I did know Claude’s intentions. He would give me what I wanted because he wished he could give me more.
But that seemed like too much effort, and for what? A few seconds of pleasure easily forgotten.
And gods, wasn’t that telling? Especially when seeking pleasure was as common as one who sought to quench a thirst?
“Did you learn of anything else?” Claude asked, catching my attention.
My thoughts raced. Claude likely expected that I had learned more about the Prince than why he was here. He knew exactly what I could ferret out of an individual. “He hasn’t created a Rae in a long time,” I said, the first thing that popped to my mind.
“Well, that’s unexpected,” he commented, drawing his thumb back over the tip of my breast.
I nodded. “And he’s also searching for something— or was.”
Claude’s touch stilled. “What?”
“He was searching for something he . . . he believed that another Hyhborn had information on,” I said slowly, relying fully on what the Prince had shared with me.
Light blue-green eyes met mine. “Do you know who he was looking for?”