E L A R A

The fire crackles low, casting fractured light across Adrian’s face. I’ve memorized every line of him now.How his jaw tenses before he speaks, how his thumb draws circles on my back even when he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. We’re still wrapped together, skin to skin, but the cold is no longer what threatens to undo me.

It’s the heat.

Not the fire. Not the storm. Him.

His breath brushes my cheek, steady and warm. He’s talking softly again, details meant to ground me. “See that crack?” he whispers, gesturing at the rock wall with a tilt of his chin. “The waterline dropped another inch. We’re gaining.”

I nod, but I can’t speak. Not because I’m afraid, but because I’m certain. Of him. Of this moment.

He looks at me. Really looks. The question is there in his eyes before it reaches his mouth.

“Elara…”

I shift closer, my hand sliding up his chest, over his heart. “I’m not cold anymore.”

His brow creases slightly. “Are you sure?”

I press a kiss to his throat. “I’m sure.”

Something shifts between us. It’s not urgent. It’s not fear. It’s the first warmth I’ve felt that doesn’t demand anything but truth. And mine is simple.

I want him. Not because I’m desperate. But because I’m safe.

He watches me as I rise onto my knees. He doesn’t reach for me. He waits.

His stillness says more than any whispered promise. He lets me choose every inch of closeness. My fingers tremble as I push the wet fabric from my shoulders, peeling it away inch by inch. My top clings before it gives. The air kisses my skin, cool but no longer biting. His eyes track the movement like a prayer.

When I glance up, he’s already sitting, arms braced on his knees, his chest bare, breath held tight. The firelight paints gold across the ridges of his torso, but I don’t look because he’s beautiful. I look because he’s real. Solid. Alive.

“Say it again,” he says quietly. “So I know.”

My heart stutters, not from nerves but from how much I want this right. I crawl closer, straddling his lap, my bare chest brushing his. I cup his jaw, feel the rasp of stubble, the heat of him.

“Yes,” I whisper. “I want this. I want you.”

His exhale is ragged. “If you say no..”

“I’ll say it. I swear.”

“If you say slow..”

“You’ll slow,” I finished for him, threading my fingers through his hair.

“And you keep your eyes open,” he says, voice low. “I want to see you.”

“You will.”

His hands finally lift. They don’t grab. They don’t take. They settle, one at the small of my back, the other tracing the edge of my ribcage. My skin jumps under his touch, heat chasing everywhere his fingers go.

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m not afraid,” I murmur.

His lips curve slightly. “I am.”

That confession cracks something deep in me. He’s not afraid of the storm. Or the board. Or his legacy.

But he’s afraid of me. Of this.

Of getting it wrong.

I lean in and kiss him, slow and certain. His hands slide up, cupping my breasts like they’re something he’s never been allowed to hold. His thumbs graze my nipples and I gasp, arching into him. He swears softly, reverently.

“You’re unreal,” he murmurs. “Every part of you.”

I guide his hand lower, over the flat of my belly, into the waistband of my pants. His breath catches. “Elara..”

“Yes.”

He moves slowly, fingers sliding beneath the damp fabric, finding me already wet. The first stroke of his fingers makes my thighs tremble. His forehead drops to mine.

“You’re so ready,” he groans. “Fuck, you feel like heaven.”

He touches me like the answer to a vow. His fingers stroke deep, circling with purpose, coaxing moans from my throat that feel foreign and right all at once. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t demand. Just builds pressure with every sweep of his thumb, every curl inside me.

I brace on his shoulders, forehead pressed to his. “More,” I gasp.

He gives it. Deeper. He shifts his wrist, dragging his fingers across the spot that unravels me. I cry out, legs tightening around him, chasing it.

“Right there,” I pant. “Don’t stop.”

His mouth finds my throat, kissing gently. “I won’t. I’ve got you.”

The waves rise too fast. I try to slow it, afraid I’ll break too loudly, too soon, but he doesn’t let me hold back. His free hand cradles my back, keeping me steady. His voice grounds me.

“Come for me, Elara.”

And I do.

The orgasm crashes through me, sharp and relentless. I cry out, muscles locking, everything clenching around his fingers. My vision goes white, the cave echoing with the sound of my release. He keeps stroking me through it, coaxing every last quake until I collapse against his chest, breathless and undone.

He murmurs something against my temple, words I can’t catch but feel anyway. His lips are soft. His arms are strong. And I’m safe.

A D R I A N

She breaks apart in my arms and I swear, I’ve never seen anything more powerful. Not profit. Not an empire. Not even the ocean roaring outside. Nothing compares to this.

To her.

I ease my fingers out and hold her, letting her ride the aftershocks. Her breath comes in short, staggered bursts. I rub slow circles on her back, pressing kisses to her shoulder, her hair, her temple.

“You okay?” I whisper.

Her nod is slow but sure. “More than.”

I ease her pants down, baring the rest of her. She doesn’t shy away. Doesn’t cover herself. She meets my gaze, eyes still hazy, cheeks flushed, and lifts her hands to my waistband.

“Your turn,” she says, voice hoarse with want.

I let her undress me. Every brush of her fingers stokes the fire burning in my blood. My cock is already hard, heavy, aching. When I’m bare before her, she doesn’t look away.

She wraps her fingers around me and I hiss.

“God,” I mutter. “You’re going to ruin me.”

She smiles like she already has.

I can’t wait anymore.

Not with her flushed and trembling beneath me. Not with her mouth still parted, breath warm against mine, thighs slick with heat I helped create. My cock aches, thick and tight and throbbing, but this isn’t about relief. It’s about her.

I line myself up, rubbing the head through her slick folds, teasing her entrance. Her legs wrap around my waist. Her hands grip my back.

“Still yes?” I murmur, barely breathing.

Her eyes burn into mine. “Please.”

I push in.

Slow. Steady. Her body stretches around me, tight and wet and perfect. Her breath catches, nails digging into my shoulders. I pause halfway, fighting to hold on.

“Too much?”

“No,” she pants. “More.”

I sink the rest of the way in. We groan at the same time, two halves of something breaking open. I stillburied to the hilt, every inch of me surrounded by her.

“Fuck, Elara,” I rasp. “You feel like..” I can’t even finish the sentence. She moves her hips, and I lose the thought entirely.

I set a rhythm. Slow thrusts at first, grinding deeper each time. She meets me, gasping, moaning, pulling me down for kisses that taste like fire and storm. I stroke her clit with every motion, watching her unravel beneath me.

She breaks first, again.

Her walls tighten, pulsing around me, her body seizing with a cry that echoes off the cave walls. I curse, holding on by a thread, her pleasure crashing through me like a wave.

I last two more thrusts.

Then I come with a groan that tears from somewhere deep. I bury myself in her, spilling hard, shaking with the force of it.

We breathe together. Slick. Spent. Alive.

But I’m not letting go.

E L A R A

He flips me gently, pulling me atop him. My legs tremble as I straddle him again. He’s still hard. Still ready.

“My turn?” I whisper.

He grins, wrecked and reverent. “Ride me, doctor.”

I sink down again, slower this time. The stretch is deeper like this, perfect. His hands find my hips, guiding me. My pace builds, slow grinds to fast thrusts, dragging friction through every inch.

His hands tease my breasts, his voice low and guttural. “God, look at you. So fucking beautiful.”

I lost it.

Another orgasm tears through me, violent and raw. I scream his name as I clench around him, and that’s all it takes, he thrusts up once, twice, then groans and spills inside me again, hips jerking, hands holding me so close I feel his heartbeat inside my own.

We collapse in a tangle of limbs, and breath.

He kisses my temple. My cheek. My lips.

“You’re warm?” he asks, voice rough.

“Burning,” I whisper.

He wraps us tight, rubbing my fingers until I squeeze back.

A D R I A N

Her pulse is steady. Her skin is flushed. But her eyes are open.

We made it.

We survived.

And then I see it.

A faint golden glow through the cracks in the cave wall. Diffused light softening the stone.

Dawn.

Rescue is coming.

But I don’t let her go.