Chapter 9
Atticus
Iwake to sunlight streaming through the large windows of my cabin, the brightness suggesting it's well past my usual rising time. The weight of Sloane's head on my chest, her honey-blonde hair spilled across my skin, explains my uncharacteristic indulgence.
My fiancée. The word reverberates through me with a sense of rightness I've never experienced before.
Last night replays in my mind, her surprised joy when I proposed, the way she'd whispered ‘yes’ through tears and laughter, how we'd celebrated our engagement with increasingly passionate lovemaking that left us both deliciously exhausted.
I hadn't planned to propose after the gala, I had intended to wait for a Christmas, but seeing her in that burgundy dress, I couldn't wait another day.
Impulsive; a word rarely, if ever, used to describe Atticus Morgan. Yet another way Sloane has changed me, undoubtedly for the better.
She stirs against me, her body warm and soft where it's draped half across mine. When her eyes flutter open, finding mine immediately, the sleepy smile that spreads across her face makes my chest tight with emotion.
"Morning," she murmurs, voice husky with sleep. Her left hand comes up to rest on my chest, the emerald ring catching the sunlight. "So it wasn't a dream."
"Very real," I assure her, covering her hand with mine. "Having second thoughts in the harsh light of day?"
"Not a chance." She stretches up to press a soft kiss to my lips. "Though I am wondering how we're going to tell everyone. Your mother might spontaneously combust from satisfaction."
I laugh, the sound rumbling through my chest beneath her ear. "She'll be insufferable. Already was, after she spotted us on the terrace."
"That's what she whispered to you," Sloane realizes, propping herself up on one elbow to see my face better. "When we were leaving."
"She said, and I quote, 'The emerald was the right choice. Don't overthink the proposal, darling. She's going to say yes’." I shake my head, still amazed by my mother's perceptiveness. "Apparently she knew my intentions before I'd fully formed them myself."
Sloane's eyes widen. "She knew you were going to propose? Wait, did she help you pick the ring?"
"More like she invited herself along when I mentioned I was visiting the jeweler," I admit. "But her input was... surprisingly valuable. She has excellent taste."
"And uncanny intuition," Sloane adds, looking down at the ring with new appreciation. "I would've expected her to push for something more traditional. More... Manhattan socialite."
"She said this suited you better. 'As unique as she is,' were her exact words."
A soft smile plays on Sloane's lips. "I underestimated Vivienne Morgan."
"A common mistake," I assure her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "One she cultivates deliberately."
Sloane settles back against my chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns across my skin. "So what's the plan, future husband? Announcement at the office? Mass email? Skywriting over Hope Peak?"
I laugh at the image. "I was thinking we'd start with breakfast, then tell our closest friends before the rumor mill takes over."
"Too late for that." She reaches for her phone on the nightstand, scrolling briefly before turning the screen toward me. "Brynn already texted. Apparently, there's a betting pool about whether you actually proposed last night or are waiting for Christmas Day."
I groan, letting my head fall back against the pillow. "Small towns."
"Exactly." She sets the phone aside, her expression growing more serious. "Are you sure about this, Atticus? About splitting your time between here and New York? The board...”
"The board will adapt," I interrupt gently. "Remote work is hardly revolutionary, even for a CEO. Besides, with the Winter Division established here, my presence will be an asset, not a liability."
"And your apartment? Your life there?"
"My apartment is just space filled with expensive furniture I rarely see," I point out. "As for my life... the parts that matter are coming with me. The rest is just... infrastructure."
Her expression softens at my words. "When did you become so wise about what really matters?"
"When I met a coffee shop manager who called me on my bullshit at a business conference three years ago," I reply honestly. "Everything important in my life can be traced back to that moment."
"Smooth talker." But her eyes shine with emotion as she leans up to kiss me, her lips soft and warm against mine.
The kiss deepens naturally, her body shifting until she's fully on top of me, the sheet falling away to leave nothing between us. My hands slide down her back to cup her hips as she settles more firmly against me, drawing a groan from deep in my chest.
"I believe," she murmurs against my lips, "we were in the middle of celebrating our engagement last night."
"Were we?" I feign ignorance, even as my body responds instantly to her proximity. "I recall something about demonstrating your love for your future husband..."
"Mmm, that's right." She presses open-mouthed kisses down my jaw, my neck, my chest. "I think I was just getting started when you distracted me."
"Terribly rude of me," I manage as her exploration continues lower. "Please, don't let me interrupt again."
Her laugh vibrates against my skin moments before her mouth finds its target, drawing a sharp intake of breath from me. My hands fist in the sheets as she proceeds to make good on her promise, taking me apart with devastating precision.
When I'm on the edge of control, I pull her up, flipping our positions in one smooth motion that leaves her breathless beneath me. "My turn," I murmur, tracing the curve of her breast with my thumb. "Fair's fair."
"Always so concerned with equity," she teases, though her voice catches as my mouth replaces my hand. "A truly admirable business philosophy, oh!"
I smile against her skin as my fingers find her center, already slick with desire. "I believe in thorough research," I murmur, stroking her with deliberate purpose. "Comprehensive exploration."
"Is that, ah!, what we're calling it now?" Her back arches off the bed as I add pressure precisely where she needs it most.
"Among other things." I trail kisses lower, replacing my fingers with my mouth in a move that has her crying out, her hands flying to tangle in my hair.
I take my time, reveling in every gasp, every moan, every whispered plea of my name. By the time she's trembling on the edge, her thighs tensed around my shoulders, I know her body as well as my own, every sensitive spot, every touch that drives her wild.
"Atticus," she gasps, her voice breaking on my name. "Please, I need...”
"I know what you need," I assure her, positioning myself above her. Our eyes lock as I push forward, joining us completely in a single fluid motion that draws simultaneous groans from both of us.
For a moment, we remain still, savoring the connection. Then she shifts beneath me, a clear signal to move, and all thought gives way to pure sensation.
I set a rhythm that quickly has her clinging to my shoulders, meeting each thrust with one of her own. The sight of her beneath me, skin flushed, eyes dark with desire, hair spread across the pillow, nearly undoes me.
"You're so beautiful," I breathe, unable to contain the words. "So perfect."
Her answering smile, though tinged with pleasure, reaches her eyes. "And you're amazing," she responds, her hand coming up to cup my cheek. "In every way."
The tenderness in her touch, combined with the exquisite sensation of being inside her, pushes me closer to the edge. But I'm determined to take her with me. I shift slightly, changing the angle in a way that makes her gasp, her inner muscles fluttering around me.
"That's it," I encourage, feeling her response build. "Let go, Sloane. I've got you."
Her release washes over her in waves, body clenching around mine as my name falls from her lips like a prayer.
The sight of her coming undone, combined with the rhythmic pressure of her climax, pulls me over the edge with her.
I bury my face in her neck as pleasure crashes through me, emptying myself deep inside her with a groan of her name.
We lie tangled together, my weight supported on my forearms to avoid crushing her, our breathing gradually slowing in tandem. When I finally find the strength to move, rolling to my side and bringing her with me, she curls against my chest with a contented sigh.
"If that's how you celebrate engagements," she murmurs, "I can't wait to see what you do for anniversaries."
I laugh, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'll have to get creative. Set a high bar early."
"You already have." She lifts her left hand, admiring how the emerald catches the sunlight. "I still can't believe you've been planning this. That you spoke to my father."
"I wanted to do it properly." I trace the line of her jaw with my thumb. "Though I admit, the timing was more... spontaneous than I'd intended."
"Atticus Morgan, making impulsive decisions," she teases. "The board would be shocked."
"Only the most important decision of my life," I counter, suddenly serious. "And the easiest I've ever made."
Her expression softens at my words. "Mine too."
Eventually, hunger and responsibilities drive us from the comfortable nest of tangled sheets. We shower together, an exercise in efficiency that quickly becomes anything but, before dressing for the day ahead.
"Breakfast at Perfect Brews?" Sloane suggests as we prepare to leave the cabin. "Carly will be the first to spot the ring anyway. Might as well make it official."
"Lead the way," I agree, oddly excited about sharing our news with the town that has, against all odds, begun to feel like home.
Outside, Hope Peak sparkles under fresh snowfall, the morning sun transforming everyday scenes into picture-perfect holiday moments. We walk hand-in-hand down Main Street, Sloane's left hand conspicuously bare of gloves despite the cold.