The sunset’s bold colors licked over the sky like fire, crowned by the velvet indigo of the impending night. Isa drank in the beauty of it, ever amazed by the splendor of the spectacle. No matter how old she got, she would never tire of gazing at a sunset, her favorite part of the day.

“Are we going to spend the night in another cave?”

Basil’s question pulled her out of her trance. She cleared her throat. “Actually, we can sleep in a real bed tonight.”

“Oh? Is there a village ahead?”

“Not quite. I’ve…taken the liberty of redirecting our course by about one hour so we can make a stop overnight.”

“Where?”

“My house.”

He blinked, obviously stunned. “You…you’re taking me to your home?”

Why did she suddenly feel awkward? Her face heated. “I figured it would be nice to sleep there for a change, seeing as it’s kind of on our way to Ranagor. You don’t mind?”

“Not at all.” His smile was blinding. “I’d love to see how you live.”

And now her skin prickled, her heart thumped erratically, and her stomach had decided to try a somersault. Great. Why had she thought it was a good idea to bring him here?

Ten minutes later she led him toward the towering rock formation that housed her humble abode. Part of a sprawling landscape of forest-covered ridges, her own cliff featured natural caves which she’d expanded on and customized into her home. A stone staircase led up to an ornately carved wooden door, framed by floral patterns chiseled into the rock.

“Nice,” Basil said from behind her as she unlocked the door. “Did you engrave these yourself?”

She threw a glance at him, at his hand stroking the decorations in the stone. “Yes.”

He followed her into her house, studying the arched ceilings, the open doorways leading from one room into the other, the roughly-hewn, curved walls, the shelves worked into the rock, the strategically placed mirrors that reflected the light streaming in from the various skylights.

“Wow.” Basil turned, craned his head, strolled through the rooms. “Don’t tell me you did all this?”

“Well,” she said, activating the crystals set in the walls to illuminate the house at night, “I do have a talent for working with stone, remember?”

“This is fan-fucking-tastic.” Basil’s voice came from her bathroom, muffled by the splash of water.

She peeked inside.

He gestured at the waterfall shower, his face alight. “Is this thing always running?”

“Yes. I rerouted part of the natural hot spring inside the rock formation and let it flow through here. The water’s always warm enough for a shower.”

“You have your own personal waterfall.” He turned to her, all feigned offense. “I am so incredibly jealous.”

She didn’t quite manage to bite back her grin, instead walked out of the room before she did something fatal like kissing him silly. “I have a spare bedroom for you. Come.”

He followed her, then paused and blinked at the nook she showed him. “That’s…a room? Where’s the door?”

“Uh, none of the rooms have doors. It makes for better air flow through the house.” She shrugged. “Plus, I live alone.”

He gave her a side-eye. “You don’t often have guests, do you?”

“No.” She looked down, turned away. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be going to bed. I’m really tired.”

“Sure.” Before she could walk away, he grabbed her hand, the touch an electric jolt throughout her body. “Isa.”

She looked at him.

“Your home is beautiful.”

The stone-cold part of her cracked, just a little. “Thank you.”

* * *

Damn it all, she hated waking up because she had to use the bathroom.

With a muffled groan, Isa swung her legs over the side of her bed—so soft, so inviting, calling out like a lover that she shouldn’t leave just yet, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again until she relieved herself. So she padded down the hall on silent feet, hoping not to wake Basil with her nightly wandering, and turned into the open archway to the bathroom—where she froze, her bladder’s call forgotten, riveted on the breathtaking sight of one fine male in all his naked glory.

Basil stood under the waterfall shower, his back to her, the water splashing over the hard planes of his body, running down ridges and valleys of muscle and smooth skin. Caressing him.

She’d never been so jealous of water.

By the Fates, his form was delicious. Unadulterated strength poured into the shape of a prime male specimen, broad shoulders, tapered waist, narrow hips, and a butt that looked positively bitable. His muscles flexed and rippled as he washed himself, unaware of her presence.

She jerked herself out of the haze of lust. You should leave. Now. Her feet wouldn’t move. Instead, her hand inched toward the arch of the doorway, touched the cool surface, and when the stone sang to her, she answered, allowed it to swallow her form, merge with the rock.

Naughty, she was so perfidiously naughty to be standing there ogling him. Shame heated her cheeks, while another emotion altogether warmed up wholly different parts of her body. Only one more minute, she chided herself. Then you’ll turn around and grant the man his damned privacy.

Just then he slowed down, changing from efficient and passionless swipes and scrubs to a more languorous stroking when he reached his groin. His back was still turned, so she only saw part of his arm and elbow, his hand hidden from her by his hips.

Isa stifled a gasp. Was he—?

He shifted his weight, the new angle turning him more toward her so she saw him from the side, and…

Stars above and earth below.

He had his hand wrapped around his cock, stroked up and down in sinuous moves. The hard length of him jutted up from a close-cropped nest of dark blond curls atop his heavy balls, water sluicing around and over it, flashing images in her mind of her tongue taking that path.

Heat built in her lower belly, coiled and flared into a pulsing rhythm between her thighs. Her fingernails dug into the rough surface of the archway.

Up and down his hand went, gaining momentum and speed while he closed his eyes, parted his lips. His breath came faster. What was he imagining while he pleasured himself? A devious, selfish impulse wished it was her, even though she knew it wasn’t right, wasn’t fair. She didn’t deserve to be his fantasy.

But the damage was done, and that wicked, oh-so-wrong, rogue thought of him picturing her turned her body into molten lust. She had to lean against the stone of the doorway to steady herself, her knees gone weak.

Breathing almost as fast as he did, her nipples sensitive against her nightshirt, she watched while he stroked himself harder, faster, working his shaft with practiced vigor and intent. She wanted to replace his hand with hers, grip him hard and make him thrust into her strokes. Wanted to kiss the powerful muscles on his chest that were bulging under the strain of his pleasure.

He threw his head back and uttered a hoarse, erotic sound that had her squeezing her thighs together against the throb of need. His bared throat invited her to lick along the column of his neck, nibble on the skin stretched taut over his veins.

She imagined doing this to him, giving him the pleasure she should have given him last night. Like this, she thought. I want to make him come apart like this.

His butt tightened as he thrust even faster into his hand, and the corded muscles of his forearm tensed. He braced his free hand against the wall of the shower, let his head fall forward again, water splashing around his neck and shoulders as he hunched over. A soft sound broke from his parted lips, his face contorted in pleasure-pain, and with a husky moan he found release.

His strokes slowed, became caresses again while the water washed away evidence of his orgasm. Panting, he laid his forehead against the rock wall.

A heavy knock on the front door startled Isa, and she almost lost the grip on the stone of the archway. Good grief, if Basil saw her now…

Another knock, louder. She frowned in the direction of the entrance.

“You should go open the door,” Basil said.

With a gasp, she looked back at him. He was facing the archway, full-frontal, his still semi-erect shaft on open display, his eyes fixed on where she stood—but not quite directly locked on to her.

He can’t see me, it’s not possible. She checked her connection to the stone, found it solid. And yet—

More knocking from the front door.

She rushed away from the bathroom.