“Atticus… I’m close.”
“Then come for me,” I whisper, fingers sliding down between us, circling her clit. “I want to feel you break.”
The moment my fingers hit that perfect rhythm, she shatters. Her entire body clamps down around me, and her cry of my name is wild, raw, breathtaking. I lose control a heartbeat later, slamming into her once more before release hits, pleasure crashing through me as I bury myself to the hilt.
We don’t move for a long moment. Her legs still locked around me. My body is heavy over hers, my head buried in her neck, breathing her in.
Eventually I roll to my side, pulling her with me, tucking her close. She curls against my chest with a quiet sigh, one hand sliding over my heart like she’s claiming it too.
And I let her.
"Well," she says after a moment, voice warm with satisfaction, "that's certainly one way to start the day."
I laugh, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Better than my usual morning workout."
"I should hope so." She traces idle patterns on my chest, her touch sending pleasant aftershocks through me. "Though I'm not sure I can feel my legs."
"Mission accomplished, then."
She swats my arm playfully, but her smile is radiant. "Smug is not a good look on you, Morgan."
"Liar," I counter, capturing her hand and bringing it to my lips. "You love when I'm confident."
"There's confident, and then there's 'I just gave my girlfriend multiple orgasms' smug."
The word 'girlfriend' catches us both by surprise. She tenses slightly, eyes widening as if she hadn't meant to say it aloud.
"I mean...” she starts.
I silence her with a gentle kiss. "Girlfriend works for me," I assure her. "Unless you prefer 'partner in corporate domination and excellent morning sex'?"
Her laugh vibrates against my chest. "Too long for business cards."
"Valid point." I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly serious. "Whatever label we use, Sloane, I'm all in. You know that, right?"
The vulnerability in her eyes as they meet mine nearly stops my heart. "Even though this complicates everything? The Winter Division, your career trajectory, your five-year plan?"
"Some things matter more than plans." The conviction in my voice surprises even me. "You matter more."
She blinks rapidly, emotion making her eyes shine. "Who are you and what have you done with Atticus Morgan?"
"He's currently being held hostage by a woman who makes him forget why spreadsheets ever seemed important."
"Poor man," she teases, though I can see my words have affected her deeply. "Will he ever escape?"
"Not if I have anything to say about it."
The moment stretches between us, weighted with everything we're not quite ready to name aloud. Then Sloane glances at the clock, sighing regretfully.
"It's almost seven-thirty," she points out. "If breakfast is coming at eight, we should probably shower."
"Probably," I agree, making no move to release her. "Though I hate to wash your scent off me."
Heat blooms in her cheeks at my words. "That's... surprisingly possessive of you."
"I'm discovering all sorts of new things about myself lately," I admit. "Most of them involve how much I want you to be mine."
"I already am," she says simply, the sincerity in her voice touching something deep inside me.
