His fingers pried at his jacket buttons next, flicking each one open.
Surely, he did not intend to bathe alongside me. Did he? There were perfectly good baths near his chambers, salted and fragranced for the royals.
Unless his punishment wasn't over. I'd play his games, but I was in no condition to do so now.
"I can leave, if you wish." The rumble in my voice echoed around the tiled walls, sounding gruffer than I'd intended.
"Didn't I just say I was looking for you?" He pulled off his fine white jacket and gold doublet beneath, then unlaced the undershirt.
This was a trap. It had to be. Alone, he might accuse me of anything. He'd already tried to have me hanged for murdering his mother. I had to leave. Yet… How many chances would I get to bathe with Prince Rafe? And why now? What did he want?
He tugged his laces loose, crossed his arms, and pulled his shirt off over his head, revealing a stunning torso, with enough muscle that he'd outwrestle me, if it came to it. Flawless skin gleamed golden with a hint of his father's desert-touched tone, but most of him was pale, like his mother.
The way the light played over his chest reminded me of honey falling from a spoon, and how I might lap it up with my tongue.
I turned my face away and swallowed a rising knot of panic. It wasn't often I lost my voice or my wits, but Rafe had stolen both. The clever thing to do would be to climb from the water, throw on my clothes, and leave.
But if I left the water, he'd see the scars and the bruises he'd dealt me. At least, with my shoulders beneath the surface, he couldn't see the marks he'd made.
Whatever he was here for, it was unlikely to be friendly. I'd dealt with worse than him, but few had caught me so unawares. Or vulnerable.
"You implied, the other day, how I might be watching you," he continued. Where my voice had grated in the quiet, his flowed with a lyrical quality.
I kept my gaze fixed on the patterned tiles across the room and not on the prince who had by now removed his trousers, because he was already descending step by step into the water. I didn't need to see him naked, or close to it. Of course, there was nothing unusual about men sharing baths. Unless one of them happened to be a prince, and the other his pet jester. Not least because of the rumors.
He'd been so careful not to be seen, and now he was everywhere.
None of this made any sense. Rafe's behavior was not how I'd imagined or been told, in his absence. The Prince of Love was kind and caring, everyone had assured me, since I'd asked in the absence of meeting
the man for myself. He certainly did not beat his court fools and then bathe with them afterward.
He disturbed the water. It sloshed against my chest. Did he want to see the evidence of his beating? Was that why he was here?
"What if I am?" he asked, gliding into sight and resting himself against the opposite side of the pool. He reached back and pulled the tie holding his hair free, then gave his head a shake, spilling golden locks to his shoulders, exactly how I'd imagined.
By Dallin, the man was made of honey and sunlight and was far too pretty.
He gazed back, waiting for me to speak. I'd forgotten what we'd been discussing—something about him watching me? He waited patiently for the answer, blinking slowly, but I'd lost my voice.
He raised a wet hand and swept his fingers through his hair, upsetting its perfect gleam, leaving darker, damp streaks behind.
I swallowed, doing nothing to smooth my throat's tightness. "I fear your arrival has rendered me speechless."
There was that little tease of a smile again, and despite the pain he'd dealt me, or perhaps because of it, delicate tendrils of lust shivered down my spine. His being here alone, that new, teasing smile, and how he'd stripped off his layers of royalty, leaving them outside the pool… This was a side of Rafe. I hadn't seen—unsurprising since I hadn't witnessed much of the prince. But the beating, and now this… I sensed he might be trying to manipulate me for reasons yet unknown. The Riddle of the Prince Behind the Door had just become more fascinating. And alluring.
"I know you are not as dimwitted as you would seem in this moment," he said. "So allow me to be clear. We are not so different, you and I."
That was anything but clear. "How so?"
"We'll come to that, but first, tell me of Quinton."
"Quinton?" My thoughts stuttered. He couldn't know I'd seen the attack or the aftermath of it. Could he? Did he think me responsible? "Quinton…?" I attempted to shrug and deny I knew the lord.
"Lie to me, and our little tête-à-tête is over."
I wanted this to end, didn't I? He had me tied in knots. I should want this to be over, but as I stood in the warm waters, the prince within reach of my fingertips, I'd rarely been more exposed. And aroused. Blood thrummed through my veins, and my cock was halfway to revealing exactly how stimulating Prince Rafe's company was.
"We met at the ball, Quinton and I," I said. "I know little of the man, just that he has an appetite for the male form."
Rafe's gaze skipped over my face. I suspected he didn't believe me. "He asked for an audience with me, to speak to me regarding my fool. Why do you think that is?"
Had Quinton thought to tell Rafe all he knew? You're the traitor's son. I hadn't been sure until now. "I cannot fathom. Perhaps ask him?"
"Yes, well, I would, but the attack left him speechless." Rafe peered through golden lashes, and that glare burrowed inside, beneath all my many layers. "As you well know, Levi."
A second thrill surged through me, conspiring with the thrill and fear of his alarming arrival.
The assailant leaned over Quinton, the twig in the prince's cloak—the same plant that made up the hedge maze. I'd been blind not to see it before. He'd been hooded and masked, but I'd seen his eyes, both beautiful and haunting. His gait when he'd run, fast, light, and how he'd known how to vanish inside the hedge maze.
It all pointed to one fact. Rafehad attacked Quinton.
He'd cut his throat, and almost killed him. Would have, if I hadn't interrupted.
My heart thumped harder, quickening my breaths. This was not how a Prince of Love should behave.
Rafe's hint of a smile grew. He pushed from the side of the pool, and within two steps, he stood close enough to fill my vision. Water dripped from his damp hair, over eyes sparkling with intelligence. He waited. I imagined the throb of his heat washing over me. If he shifted another inch closer, he'd feel exactly how hard I was for him.
Prince Rafe knew a whole lot more about me and his court than I'd thought possible. And right then, he had me in his grasp. I had to do something to trip him up, knock him off his stride, and give myself room to think and breathe around him.
"What was it about you Lord Quinton wished to discuss, Levi?" Rafe asked.
It seemed he did not get the answers he'd hoped for before trying to kill Lord Quinton. And now, I was under his scrutiny. Was that why he was here, to cut my throat too? I didn't see a knife, but I hadn't seen one when he'd knelt over Quinton either.
"How are we alike, Prince?" I raised my hand from the water, fingers curled beside his cheek, not yet touching. Would he strike me again if I did?
As he blinked, dislodging droplets of water from his lashes, I dared touch his temple—so warm—and skimmed my fingers down his face, under his jaw, following its fine line. I'd expected him to stop me, but he hadn't moved, and now the natural bow of his mouth drew my fingertips toward them.
His lips were peach-soft.
I ached to taste them, to slip my tongue between them. My cock throbbed, and my whole body burned for the forbidden, the untouchable, the riddle of the prince who cut throats.
What would his kiss be like? Hard and fast, or soft and slow? Would he hurt me? I might ask him to.
He caught my chin, as he had when I'd lain in my bed, stepped forward, and pinned me to the side of the pool. Lean, hard muscle pushed in, his thigh, his hip, his… cock, erect and against mine, trapping it to my hip.
A gasp shuddered through me, almost a moan.
His gaze searched my eyes, and all his lofty princeliness faded, softening his face. It seemed he battled with something, perhaps his own desires. I hadn't known he preferred men, but his dick made that fact very clear.
If he kissed me, I wouldn't be able to hold back. I wanted him, his hands on me, his mouth under mine, wanted to hear and feel him moan, his body slick against me. I wanted his hand at my throat, holding me down, his cock in my grip, my ass. I breathed hard, lost to a new scorching agony he'd ignited inside me.
His beautiful lips parted—
The door to the pool swung open, letting in a blast of cold air, and one of the men who'd beaten me the day before.
"These bathing pools are unbecoming of…" The brute trailed off at the sight of us. "Prince Rafe?"
Rafe huffed a dismissive laugh and moved away. "My mistake." He strode up the steps. Water cascaded down his body. He made no attempt to hide his jutting dick.
I wet my lips and forced my gaze away, trying to wrestle rampaging desires back under control. It was rare for someone to fire me up like he had. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been so aroused. Not in the last four years.
The prince dried and dressed himself. "Good day, Fool," Rafe said, back to his cold, hard, distant self.
In moments, Rafe and his guard had gone, leaving the echo of his farewell in my mind and my dick demanding to be satisfied.
Alone, rattled, confused, inexplicably enthralled, and painfully aroused, I stared at the wall.
He was playing me. I should hate him. I did, but also… didn't. It was a madness. The madness of the Court of Love.
I grasped my cock in my right hand, clung to the poolside with my left, and pumped. Faster, harder. Someday soon, I'd hold him down, on his knees, and slide my dick between his peachy lips, and he'd take it, gag for it, his hard cock all the proof I needed he'd wanted it too.
Pleasure trilled, lighting up my spine, singing through my veins. More, I needed more. I lifted my left arm and bit down into my bicep. Pain sparked, danced through my veins, and I came, gasping free of the bite and shuddering hard, lost to the dream of seeing my cum on Prince Rafe's soft lips.
But with desire sated, and my heart slowing, reality clawed back in.
What if I'd met my nemesis in Prince Rafe? What if he knew who I was, but even more than that, what if he knew why I was in his court?
Until now, I'd been the one in control of the Court of Love. I sensed that was about to change.
And if Quinton had told Rafe anything of my past, then I'd lose more than a finger. I'd lose my head.