Chapter 86

Adrian's POV

I punched the gas, the Tesla tearing up the mountain road, city lights bleeding out behind us. Anna sprawled beside me, boots propped on the dash, nudging my thigh with every curve. Her smirk hit me like a live wire—sharp, daring, shredding yesterday's IPO haze. Twenty-three billion felt like nothing next to her.

"You owe me a real 'I love you,'" I said, voice low, eyes catching hers. "Those bots don't count."

She tilted her head, hair spilling over her shoulder, that glint in her eyes torching me. "Earn it, Salvatore. I don't cave easy."

"Watch me," I growled, hand sliding to her knee, squeezing just enough to feel her shift. "I've got all night."

She laughed—low, husky—grabbing my wrist but not pulling it away. "Big talk for a guy who burned pasta yesterday."

"Big talk from the woman who moaned my name last night," I shot back, thumb tracing her denim. Her breath hitched, and I grinned. "Yeah, thought so."

The campsite broke through the dusk—pines stabbing the sky, a ridge glowing faint. We dumped the gear, Anna hammering stakes with that fierce focus I'd kill for. I wrestled the fire pit, sparks catching slow until her smirk goaded me on.

"Tech genius can't light a match?" she taunted, tossing me a twig, hip cocked.

"Keep running that mouth," I said, yanking her against me as flames licked up. Her hair smelled of smoke and her—raw, untamed. "I'll shut it up later."

"Promises," she murmured, pressing into me, her nails grazing my back through my shirt. "Prove it."

The sky bruised purple as we scavenged the cooler—canned beans, bread, a slab of bacon Anna swore she'd turn into gold. She shoved me aside, commandeering the fire, her hands quick with a knife, slicing strips that sizzled and spit. I leaned back, watching her—flames painting her face, that steel spine bending just for this. For us.

She caught me staring, smirking over her shoulder. "What? Never seen a woman cook?"

"Never seen one make me this hungry," I said, voice thick, meaning every damn word. Not for the food—for her, the way she owned every move, every glance. She plated it up—greasy, perfect—and we ate straight from the pan, elbows knocking, her laugh cutting through the crackle when I burned my tongue.

"Billionaire can't handle heat?" she teased, swiping grease from my chin with her thumb, lingering there.

"Only yours," I muttered, catching her wrist, kissing that thumb clean. Her eyes darkened, and I felt it—city pressure peeling off, boardrooms and headlines dissolving. Just her, this fire, this dirt under my boots. I'd built an empire, but here, feeding her bacon, I'd never felt richer.

We ditched the pan, wandering off the ridge into the valley, her hand slipping into mine—rough, warm, grounding. Pines loomed dark, the air sharp with sap and earth, our steps crunching over needles. She tugged me to a stop by a stream, water glinting under the last light, and leaned against me, head tipping back to the sky.

"No suits, no schedules," she said, voice soft, rare. "Forgot what breathing feels like."

I wrapped my arms around her, chin on her hair, her weight sinking into me. "This is all I need," I said, low, meaning it—more than IPOs, more than billions. Her here, real, mine. The world could burn out there; I'd stay lost in this valley with her forever.

Night crashed in, stars clawing through the black. We sank by the fire, her shoulder hard against mine, heat spitting into the chill. She pulled a flask from her jacket—whiskey, sharp when she sipped and passed it over. I drank, eyes locked on her lips, wet and glinting.

"No cameras out here," she murmured, voice dropping, leaning in until her breath scorched my neck. "No rules. Think you're man enough?"

My pulse slammed. "Begging for it, Rose." I caught her chin, kissed her—hard, tasting fire. She shoved me toward the tent.

"Not yet," I said, gripping her waist, lips at her ear. "Gonna make you squirm." My hand slid up her thigh, teasing her jeans. She swatted me.

"Asshole," she muttered, hips rocking into me.

"Love that mouth," I said, nipping her jaw. She dragged me inside.

Canvas snapped shut, firelight bleeding through. She straddled me, tearing my shirt—buttons popping. Her nails raked my chest, sparking heat. I groaned, hands on her tits, thumbs rolling her nipples stiff.

"Adrian—" She ripped her top off, bra stark against her flush, biting my lip hard, then licking it. "Too slow."

"Tease," I growled, flipping her, pad creaking. I tugged her bra down, mouth on her nipple—sucking, flicking—her gasp cutting sharp. Her hands hit my belt, yanking it free, palming my cock—hard, throbbing.

"Fuck," I hissed, jeans off fast. She shed hers, thighs bare. I dragged her close, kissing her neck—teeth grazing, tasting her.

"Wild enough?" she taunted, legs hooking me. My fingers found her pussy—wet, hot—circling her clit until she bucked.

"More," she demanded, eyes blazing, nails clawing my shoulders. I shed my boxers, cock springing free—thick, pulsing. She gripped me, stroking once—torture—and guided me to her slit, teasing the tip against her heat.

"Now," she hissed, voice breaking, and I thrust in—deep, deliberate, her tightness swallowing me whole. She moaned, loud and raw, legs splitting wider, heels jabbing my back. I moved—hard, steady—skin slapping skin, sweat slicking us, the tent shaking with every thrust.

"Look at me," I growled, slowing, locking her gaze—raw, burning, stripping me to nothing. Her eyes seared back, fearless, mine. I angled deeper, hitting her core, her cry shredding the air. My hands slid under her ass, lifting her, pounding harder—wild, lost in her.

"Adrian—" She broke, pussy clenching tight, pulsing as she came—sharp, shattering. I groaned her name, thrusts faltering, spilling hot inside her, shaking apart. We crashed together, breaths jagged, tangled in damp heat.

I hauled her against me, her sweat-slick skin on mine, heartbeat hammering under my palm. Fire popped faint outside, wind dropping to a whisper. "Better than twenty-three billion," I rasped, lips in her hair, voice wrecked.

She laughed—soft, slicing me open. "Board's gonna fire you for that."

"Let 'em try," I muttered, smirking into the dark. "You're all I want."

Her fingers traced my ribs, slow and steady, quiet folding us tight. My phone buzzed in the pile—signal creeping back—but I didn't give a damn. Out here, it was her. Only her.

Stars burned unseen above, sharp and endless, like her carving into my blood. Tomorrow could rot.