Isa inhaled sharply, partly in response to his comment, partly as a visceral reaction to the glorious sight of Basil bare-chested in front of her. With a wicked spark in his eyes. Ready to make her his.

Yes, please.

“What were you thinking about?” she asked, watching his hands as they unbuckled his belt.

“Do you really have to ask?” His voice scraped the line to delicious huskiness.

His belt was undone. The outline of his erection strained against his pants. She licked her lips.

“While I was watching,” she whispered, her heart thundering, “I was imagining…you, imagining me.”

He made a rough sound. “Of course I was.”

Her eyes were glued to his fingers as they popped the button on his pants, lowered the zipper. His cock sprang free, proud and thick and long, making her mouth water. He grasped his shaft with one hand, pumped up and down once, then held it tight, close to the base.

“Isa,” he ground out, sounding pained.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his burning gaze. “What?” she whispered.

“The way you’re looking at me right now makes it fucking hard not to embarrass myself in front of you like a fumbling teenager.”

Heat curled in her core, and she dug her fingers in the sheets. “I was just thinking about how I imagined putting my mouth on you while you pleasured yourself.”

A sound from him that was half growl, half painful grunt. He stroked his cock, his eyes hooded with lust. “Exactly what I was picturing.”

She took a slow, measured breath. “What if I want to now?”

For a heartbeat, he stared at her, his jaw turning hard, the muscles in his torso going rigid. Her bones melted, her blood turned to liquid fire, need throbbed in her still sensitive intimate flesh, and her lips tingled with the urge to sample the heat of his shaft…but she waited for his signal.

With one hand still wrapped around his cock, he raised his other one and crooked a finger at her in the universal come hither gesture.

Ready, so very ready, she crawled over to the edge of the mattress, knelt, and sat on her feet, while he lazily pumped up and down his erection. When she wanted to replace his hand with hers, he tsked and shook his head.

“Keep your hands on the bed.” A hoarse whisper, a dare.

An illicit thrill buzzed through her. Well, now… Sunny, lighthearted Basil had a darker side to him, and a deliciously filthy one at that. Who would have guessed? He always seemed so easygoing, not the type to take charge in bed. Then again, wasn’t there a human saying that you should watch out for the quiet ones, and that still waters run deep? Not that Basil was the strong, silent type, but from what she’d learned about him, he didn’t behave like the aggressive leader in his daily life.

Except, apparently, when it came to sex.

The knowledge shot tingles of excitement through her…seeing a side of him he didn’t normally show, knowing he was willing to share it with her.

Bittersweet pain followed in its wake. I won’t get to share it for very long. She pushed the thought away—quickly and vehemently—lest Basil see even a flicker of it on her face. She didn’t want to taint this moment, didn’t want the shadow of her impending fate to chill the heat of their passion.

Yes, she didn’t have much time with him. Which was why she needed, needed, to savor every second, take whatever she could get.

With those maudlin feelings banished to the stone-cold corners of her heart, she sent him a sensual grin. Slowly, deliberately, she placed her hands on the mattress. She leaned forward, and he met her halfway, brushing the head of his cock over her parted lips.

Looking up at his face, she darted her tongue out, flicked it along the vein leading up to the broad tip. His features tightened, then gentled in response to her touch, his multi-hued brown eyes glittering behind half-lowered lids while he watched her.

The enjoyment and desire on his face mirrored her own, and it drove her arousal even higher. She opened her mouth around the head of his erection, but didn’t lean further forward to swallow it, instead curled the tip of her tongue to tease the underside of his shaft with slow licks, as if coaxing him deeper into her mouth. Still holding his gaze, she cocked one eyebrow in a dare of her own.

I see your wickedness, her gesture said. And I raise it with mine.

Understanding flashed across his face, and with a rough exhale, he tangled one hand in her hair, holding her head in place while he thrust into her mouth, tentatively at first. When she hummed her agreement against the heat of his cock, gave him the tiniest nod, he pumped faster, harder, though he kept a few fingers wrapped around the base of his shaft as a bumper to make sure he wouldn’t ram deep enough to choke her.

The low, hoarse moan that broke free from him was so erotic, she had to clench her thighs together hard to counter the pressure building in her core. She wanted to see him lose it again, as he’d done in the shower, because of her—only this time not just imagining it, but knowing. Feeling. Making it happen.

She sucked him while he thrust into her mouth, knowing the pressure of it would drive him closer to his climax. His breaths turned to pants, and he closed his eyes, all his muscles so tight he resembled the finest sculpture, like a marble manifestation of sexual ecstasy. His orgasm shuddered along those magnificent lines of his body, his features slackening with bliss. She swallowed all he had to give, savoring his taste. His pumping slowed, his fingers in her hair relaxed their grip, stroked her head, then down to her cheek as he withdrew.

She leaned into his touch on her face, looked up at him, anticipation prickling along her nerves. His expression hovered somewhere between awe, satisfaction, and voracious hunger. His breath still ragged, he shucked his pants, then followed her as she scooted back on the bed.

“There are so many things I want to do with you,” he murmured, “so many ways I want to take you and see you shatter with pleasure, I don’t even know which one to pick next.”

“Hm.” She lay back, pulled him with her over her body, looped her hands around his neck and tugged him down to her mouth. “How about one of those kisses that are so slow and thorough and focused, they make me go insane with how much I want you?”

“Oh?” he asked with feigned innocence. “I do that to you?”

She cupped his face with both hands, her heart going quiet. “That and so much more,” she whispered.

With a soft, tender gleam in his eyes, he brushed his lips over hers in the sweetest caress. “Isa.”

Her breath hitched, and the words tumbled out of her. “I love you.”

There. She said it, had bared herself to him as she’d never done to anyone else. And even sensing the depth of his feelings for her, in spite of all the signs of affection he’d shown her so far, her heart still hesitated with instinctive, irrational fear, anticipating a rejection.

But Basil had ceased breathing, as if his heart, too, had paused in its rhythm. He released a shuddering breath, laid his forehead against hers, his hand trembling as he stroked her cheek. “I love you, Isa of Stone.”

He kissed her then, hard, fast, laced with fiery passion that could raze her soul. “I think,” he said when he came up for air again, “I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you, that night I saved your life.”

She exhaled on a soft laugh, shook her head. “How is that possible? You can’t fall in love that quickly.”

“I can. And I have.” His eyes burned bright with an inner fire she wanted to wrap herself in, until all the parts still cold within her warmed and glowed. “It’s never been this fast for me, but I’m not sorry for it. I could tell you it took time for me to fall for you, but it would be a lie. And why should I lie about something that is so true for me, it’s the purest kind of pain wrapped in pleasure?” His breath caressed her lips. “I fell fast. I fell hard. And I love you with all I’ve got.”

She swallowed past a throat gone tight and dry, tears prickling hot behind her eyelids. “You’re right,” she said quietly. “You should never be sorry for that. It’s beautiful, and strong.” And I’ll take it. I’ll take it all, and hope the Fates will allow me to carry the memory with me into the eternal darkness.

“Hey, now.” He wiped a traitorous tear from her cheek. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”

Her conscience pricked her, almost made her flinch. She should tell him. Didn’t he have a right to know? The irrevocability of her fate lay heavy on her soul, threatened to suffocate her. She opened her mouth, but the words stuck in her throat. Heat rolled out from the shame-filled corners of her heart into every part of her body.

If she told him about the curse, she’d have to explain her involvement in his past, and he would learn she’d been lying to him all this time. That light in his eyes, the warmth of his love, it would be dulled by her betrayal, and she’d lose the only thing that kept her afloat in the face of her impending death. I can’t tell him. She swallowed the pained sound that wanted to escape.

“Isa?”

Live now, be in the moment. It was all she could do. Anything else would mean dying before her time.

“I’m all right,” she finally said, her voice surprisingly calm despite her inner fractures, “but I’d be even better if you did one of those many things with me you mentioned. Like taking me.” She wrapped her legs around his hips, bucked up to grind against him. Kissing a path toward his ear, she murmured, “I want to feel you inside me, Basil.”

He shivered under her hands, his muscles flexing. Those gorgeous, finely hewn muscles she still hadn’t had time to caress most thoroughly. She slid one hand down between their bodies, found his shaft already hardening. He thrust into her grip, nibbled at her lower lip—then froze.

“Oh shit.”

She blinked. “What?”

He raised his head, his expression troubled. “I don’t have any condoms with me.”

Condoms… She frowned, then remembered. Ah, yes, the human contraception. With a smile, she ran her hand along his erection. “No need for that.” He wouldn’t know, not having grown up with fae, so she explained. “We’re not fertile often. We live long lives, and I guess nature made sure we wouldn’t be able to have children at the same rate as shorter-lived species. Females only have a fertile phase every couple of years, and outside of that, we can’t conceive.” She stroked him, that thick length she’d tasted a few minutes ago. “Mine is not due for a long while yet. We’re safe.”

His hips bucked as he pushed into her intimate caress. “Well then,” he muttered against her lips, “in that case…”

He drew back, much to her protest, but grabbed her around the waist the next second, flipped her over onto her stomach. Her breath whooshed out of her, and excitement rolled through her on a wave of sparks at being handled by him. The heat and weight of his body pressed her onto the mattress while he pinned her down, skimmed one hand along her side. His hard cock was a welcome, enticing pressure against her upper thighs, so close to the point where her legs met her butt, and she pushed up with her hips, ground herself against him.

Just a little farther, and he would slide home.

He bit her neck. Pleasure arced through her, shot down to the juncture between her legs, to the spot already growing hungry and needy again. He half-balanced his weight on one arm next to her head, slid his free hand under her front, over her belly to her throbbing clitoris. His touch had her moaning into the sheets. Pinned like this underneath him, trapped between the pressure of his hand on her mound and the promise of his shaft at her upper thighs, there wasn’t much she could do, nowhere she could go.

And it made the excitement building in her all the more delicious.

Basil kissed the curve where her shoulder met her neck while he played with her, let his fingers teasingly slide around her clit without rubbing it directly. Clever, he was so clever, knowing that touching anything but would make her writhe with growing need, panting for him to grace her with his caress.

By the time he grabbed her hips to haul her up to all fours, she was shaking with desire. His cock nudged her entrance, and she pushed back, eager to feel him. Before he could slide in, however, he wrapped one arm around her front, pulled her up until her back met his chest.

With his hand cupping her breast, his breath hot on her ear, he asked, “How hard?”

It took a moment for her lust-addled brain to catch up. Before tonight, it might have surprised her that he would ask, as she’d assumed his behavior in bed would mirror the cheerful kindness of his personality—the one he usually showed. But now she’d glimpsed the other side of him, that private, precious part of his character he only revealed to a select few, she understood. Oh, he could be gentle, too, yes. And she enjoyed those moments.

But he was capable of more, was willing to give more, and he was asking how much of it she wanted him to unleash, how much she was able to take.

“I want all of you,” she said. “Rough, hard, fast…” The image of him thrusting into his own hand under the shower flashed before her eyes, his muscles flexing with his powerful, uninhibited strokes. “I’ll take everything you have to give.”

Behind her, his breath caught, and his hand on her breast squeezed, pulled her closer against him. A fleeting, gentle, kiss on her cheek…and then the pressure of his hand on her back, guiding her to all fours again. She bit her lip in anticipation as she set her hands on the mattress, as he grasped her hips, angled her just right.

His hand stroked over her butt, down to her sensitized, aching, intimate flesh. With one knee, he nudged her legs wider while he caressed her slick folds. The heat of his cock at her entrance—and he thrust into her with a powerful shove.

Pinpricks of light burst behind her eyes, her nerves overfired with pleasure-pain. As aroused and wet as she was, his size still stretched her, and those first few seconds stung in the most erotic way. He drew back and thrust in again, intensifying that sensual ache, until it turned into liquified fire in her veins.

“More,” she whispered. “Go.”

His fingers dug into her hips—and then he fucked her.

There was no other word that could describe the ferocity and primal roughness with which he took her. She grabbed the sheet in her fists, her weight on her forearms while he pumped into her with powerful strokes that set off fireworks of lust in her belly, streaming out into her limbs, erasing all thoughts, every hard thrust launching an avalanche of the most primitive thrills along her nerves.

The sound of their bodies slapping together, flesh on flesh, of Basil’s moans and her own noises of helpless pleasure, drowned in the roar in her ears as she careened on the precipice of rough-edged bliss. Her legs and arms tingled, her vision flickered, the need in her building to a crescendo.

His finger on her clit, rubbing hard.

Then—a full-body detonation.

Pleasure hurled her high, high, high, out of the heat of her skin and Basil’s grip, before she slammed back into the physical reality of a climax that left her gasping for air in a shuddering body, thoroughly taken, ravished, destroyed.

Basil rode his own release with sharp, quick thrusts into her throbbing core, then bent over her back with one hand braced next to her on the bed, his breath heavy and fast. He rocked against her a few more times, drawing out the pleasure for them both.

They stayed like this for several thudding heartbeats, their bodies fused in the most intimate union.

He placed a kiss on her shoulder, stroked along her spine as he straightened back up again, and pulled out. The loss of his heat, of the hardness of his shaft, made her shiver. She collapsed on the bed, closed her eyes, floated in the haze of her sensual bliss.

The mattress dipped as Basil returned. “Here,” he said, his voice low and hoarse.

Opening her eyes, she turned to him, took the rag he held out to her, and quickly cleaned herself. He hauled her into his arms as soon as she tossed the rag aside, pulled her into the heat of his embrace, his love. That fire of his she wanted to wrap herself in, he’d thrust it straight into her, branding each and every one of her cells. She glowed with his warmth, his light.

Inhaling his scent of rain-kissed earth, she snuggled into him. “Basil?”

“Hm?”

“Isannarî,” she whispered.

“What’s that mean?”

She swallowed, drawing tiny circles with her fingers on his chest. “It’s my true name.”

His muscles tensed under her hands. He pushed her back just far enough to look at her, his face a study in disbelief. “Why are you telling me this? I thought you should keep that a secret?”

“I want to share it with you,” she said, and made sure he heard the emphasis and determination in her voice.

“Why?” His expression bordered on panicked. “If it’s so powerful, why would you trust anyone—”

She laid her hand on his mouth. “Not anyone. You. I trust you.” She caressed his lips with her thumb. “It’s a gift. I know you will honor it.”

The greatest intimacy she was capable of, the most precious part of herself she could give him—besides her life. If she had to go, she wanted to do so knowing she had shared what was a prerogative between fae mates, bonded for eternity.

He clasped his hand around hers, so much emotion written into the sculpted planes and angles of his face, into the earthen shades of his eyes. “I will. I swear on my life, I’ll never use it against you.”

She smiled, kissed his hand. “It makes me happy, knowing you’ll carry my true name in your heart.” Even after I’m gone.

Her conscience stung her again, and made it difficult to breathe. She damned her softened heart for not locking away what had no place here between them. And yet, doubt soured her happiness.

She struggled again with the urge to tell him, if not all, then at least that she was cursed to die. She failed miserably. Explaining it to him was an exercise in pain and futility, because there was nothing he could do to break it. Nothing she would allow him to do. For the only way to save her life was to take his, and even if he knew, if he were to offer, or worse yet, insist, she’d never let him make the sacrifice. No, sharing her fate with him would do nothing but break his heart twice—once now, when she told him, and the second time when death took her.

Would it have been fairer not to have sex with him, not to return his love? Maybe. She could have made it easier for him by continuing to refuse his advances. Her death would hit him harder now. It would have been the truly selfless thing to do, to push him away, to not further encourage his love…

Ah, but wasn’t she already selfless enough, giving up her life for his? This one thing, she wanted for herself…these few, fleeting moments in his arms, to be his true lover for the precious time they had left.