It was good to be home for Christmas for the first time in years.

Dad and Stellan had flown to Paris for a couple of Christmases to celebrate with me there after I made excuses of being too busy to come home but it was different to have it in our old house like we used to.

"Do you need help, Dad?" Stellan asked as Dad tried to maneuver his way around the turkey that was in truth too big for three people.

"I might be an old man but I've still got it," Dad insisted as he tried to angle his carving knife this way and that. "Besides, it's tradition, kids. You've got to give this to me. Who knows how many more years I've got until I'm senile and you'll have to be feeding me turkey soup for Christmas?"

Stellan and I exchanged glances and tried not to roll our eyes.

Dad was always a bit dramatic about this. He wasn't that old but he just liked to use that excuse whenever he was trying to spoil us like we were still little children. We always figured a lot of his old guilt played into it and while it bewildered me as a child, I could understand it now. His marriage with our mother fell apart and just when we thought we were about to have a new family with Gabriella and our baby sister, they disappeared. Then came Mom's terminal diagnosis and soon after, her death.

Through all this, Stellan and I never blamed or resented Dad no matter how much responsibility he assigned himself. He was a good man and a devoted father and to this day continued to do his best by us. Parents would never be the faultless and invincible human beings we'd thought of them as a child and it was only with time that we could appreciate this about them, about how they could be so much more for us despite all their limitations.

"We'll make sure it's first-class turkey soup, Dad, so don't you worry," I told him with a smile. "And Stellan and I will take turns feeding you and I'll make sure to sneak you in some cake despite doctor's orders."

Dad beamed at me. "This is how I know I've raised good children. I have a lifetime guarantee at having cake."

"Or you could just let me have at it so I can practice my Dad skills," Stellan said.

Dad froze and looked at him. "Are you going to be a Dad soon? Am I going to be a grandfather?"

My brother laughed and shook his head.

"Not what you're thinking, Dad. But I'm not getting any younger," he said, totally at ease with the topic that many of his other friends would be sweating bullets about. "So if I meet a nice girl who can put up with me, who knows, maybe I'll settle down and have a kid or two."

I forced my limbs back to life and rolled my eyes at my brother to bring things back to normal. "You make it sound as if you're a complete womanizer about to voluntarily put the shackles on. One day, you'll meet a woman who deserves you, Stel, and you'll build the kind of life with her that we've always imagined you having. But don't be too easy, okay? You deserve someone who is crazy in love with you and that last woman was a HELL NO in capital letters."

Stellan winced even as he allowed a smile. "Yeah, I know. But thank you for all that."

"Same goes for you, miss," Dad said, looking at me meaningfully. "I know you won't fall for the first bozo to kiss your feet but I hope you're not going to wait around forever for the fool who won't ever notice."

My spine straightened and I probably had a mutinous look on my face because Stellan laughed.

"Oh, I'm sure he noticed," he muttered under his breath, earning a kick on the shin from me.

"I'm not waiting around forever, Dad," I grumbled, my cheeks warming as I tried to dig myself out of this hole. "But I'm extremely busy as you all know and dating is at the bottom of my list. No man would want to compete with all that I've got on my plate right now."

Dad shrugged. "If you're worth it to him, he will."

Stellan gave me a sideways glance and I glared at him. "If he's worth it to me, maybe I'll re-prioritize but for now, work comes first. Now, can we get some turkey please? I'd like to have Christmas dinner before the new year comes along."

Dad gave me a look of disapproval and I just gave him my sweetest smile as a means of apology. Dinner commenced and I held out for as long as I could before blurting out, "Why didn't we invite Oliver to dinner? He was here for Thanksgiving."

It had been almost a month since Oliver nursed me back to health. The vague agreement we'd struck that day he showed up at my loft started a somewhat new but somehow still old routine between us. It was the fragile sort of relationship born out of a damaged one that had endured much. Being around each other came to us easily enough but there was always something tentative about it as if we didn't want to screw anything up. And frankly, we didn't want to screw anything up. We didn't need more broken pieces to add to the pile of rubble that used to be us.

So we took it slow.

We didn't drop everything we were doing but we didn't avoid getting invited to the same things or indulging in things we'd done a lot together before. When we did run into each other, we would keep each other's company and talk. A couple times he drove me home, lingering to chat and unwind but no more. He never overstayed his welcome and I never explicitly extended it. A couple times I grabbed lunch with him during the work week and a few times for a quick coffee run even though we didn't work anywhere near each other. Then he came to Thanksgiving dinner like he had many times in the past, much to my father and brother's obvious but cautious relief.

You could almost say we were back to normal but before our rushed Vegas wedding and the devastation that followed, we didn't know what it could be like between us in both love and lust. So it would never be back to that a hundred percent. That acute awareness was now always in the periphery even as we found ourselves settling in the way we used to be.

"You know Oliver doesn't like to impose," Dad said off-handedly, still occupied with carving the turkey. "Besides, I'm not too worried about him. He always comes and finds us if he needs to but for the most part, he's got plenty of companionship—the fairer kind, that is."

Dad's casual remark shouldn't have stung because most of Stellan's friends had quite a reputation with women but it did. Because as much as I didn't see evidence of it in the last six years, there was always that voice in my head that would second-guess my usually firm opinion on it.

"Dad, you know Oliver barely has time for that kind of thing," Stellan said gently and I wondered if the doubt was written all over my face. And after what he'd seen me go through, I couldn't understand why he wouldn't want that doubt to enforce the painful lesson I'd learned about Oliver years ago. "Any woman he dates would resent him for the amount of time and focus he puts into work. He's married to his company."

No. He's married to me.

I had to physically bite down on my tongue to keep myself from blurting that thought out loud. But a part of me was consoled by Stellan's indirect reassurance at the same as it confused me.

"That's fair but maybe he just needs to find a woman who is looking for exactly the level of commitment he's willing to give because maybe they, too, have priorities that rank higher," Dad said distractedly. "I'm told every day that it's a different world out there now."

Yes. It's a world where your daughter is married to the man you think should be availing himself of other female companionship.

It was the holiday season so it wouldn't do for me to take the carving knife to my father especially when he was just making deductions that were probably reasonable enough given Oliver's history with women which was longer than his last six celibate years.

So I stuffed my mouth with mashed potato until I calmed down enough to steer the conversation to something else. But my mind kept rattling in wonder as to where and with whom Oliver was the entire night.

Along with Stellan, I stayed over here with Dad since Christmas Eve and he'd kept us busy with lots of food, presents and even a couple board games we'd played together when we were younger. My most recent conversation with Oliver was a muffled and sleepy exchange of 'Merry Christmas' greetings this morning before Dad cheerfully yelled our names from the hallway, calling us downstairs so we can open our presents. Oliver didn't bug me for the rest of the day and I knew he was trying to give me some quality time with my family. If I'd known he wasn't going to show up for dinner after I assumed he would, I would've hunted him down.

"Are you having Christmas dinner all by yourself at home?" I asked the moment he picked up my call an hour later, after I left Dad and Stellan in the office where they were enjoying a little port.

The noise in the background answered me before he could as I waited for him to move himself somewhere a little quieter.

"Hey, sorry," he said when he came back on. "And no, I'm not home. I'm actually at Mad Alley. Sav—he's one of my guys here—he's been buying Christmas dinner in the last couple years for a bunch of young people he knows from the street. I told him I'll help spring for a bigger and nicer one this year so we had lots of turkey and stuffing and all kinds of food whipped up in the kitchen by some volunteer staff and we have about fifty or so people wolfing them down. It's chaos here but the good kind."

I smiled. "Why didn't you mention anything?"

Oliver sighed. "Because I knew you would probably insist on volunteering and I know this is the first Christmas you've spent with Stellan and your Dad in a while. I didn't want you to have to choose."

I rolled my eyes. "You know I like making my own choices, Oliver. That hasn't changed one bit. Can I still come?"

"Everyone's already eating but we'll be here for clean up and closing."

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes." I said as I strode into the hallway, grabbing my overnight bag from the armchair where I'd dropped it earlier.

"Vivienne, you don't have to," Oliver protested but I could tell he was torn. "The people here tonight don't have families but you do."

"I know," I said as I headed toward Dad's office. "Which is why I'm going. I've got family there too."

The silence that followed after that statement was thick and I smiled as I imagined Oliver's expression. No matter how irregular our current situation was, we were still married on paper and neither of us showed any interest in changing that fact in the last six years. That counted for something.

"I'll come pick you up," Oliver finally said.

"I'll drive," I said. "They need you there."

"Vivienne, it's not safe—"

"Oliver, I've been by myself in a strange city for years," I interjected. "I've learned to be careful so don't worry. I'll see you soon."

I hung up before he could argue further and poked my head into the office. "I'm heading out."

Dad's eyes widened. "But I thought you were staying another night."

I walked up to him and wrapped him in a hug. "And I already told you I can't. I've got some work to catch up on before everyone comes back from holidays. But I had an amazing time hanging out with you and Stellan the last couple of days so thank you."

He bussed me on the cheek. "You know you're welcome here anytime, sweetie. Make sure you get Zenaida to pack you up some leftovers before you go."

"Don't worry. I'll be back for leftovers." I gave him one last hug before turning to my brother. "See you, Stellan. Thank you for the gadget. I'll take anything that will help organize my life."

My brother, both an inventor and head of his own technology company, gave me a digital planner of some sort that had some built-in AI to proactively organize emails, calendar invites and such. It was a very Stellan-esque gift and I adored him for it. I was a little less creative and gave him a bespoke watch in return.

"I can drive you home," he said, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly at me.

"I've got my car and I had one glass of wine," I told him. "So stay and enjoy. I'll see you guys in a day or so."

"Are you going to Max's New Year's party?" he asked even as I started walking away.

"Maybe," I said before looking over my shoulder to blow them a kiss. "Love you, gentlemen. Goodnight and Merry Christmas!"

I probably left both their heads spinning at my abrupt departure but I didn't worry about it. I left home a young, sheltered girl with two (three if you count Oliver) very protective men in my life. I came back a busy, successful career woman who had matured with time and experience. They had no choice but to trust me to know what I was doing.

I got into my coupe and headed for the outskirts of the city. It was Christmas and while the streets were bright with holiday lights, they were mostly empty.

There were a few more stragglers on the sidewalk as I approached Mad Alley and a couple lifted their heads to watch me coast by. My steel gray car was a sleek little thing but it was nothing ostentatious. Fingers crossed no one was going to try and drive it off tonight.

When I pulled up to the entrance, Oliver was there chatting with a guy I recognized as one of the bouncers.

Oliver jogged over to my side and held the door open for me. "Trent's going to take your car into the private parkade. The entrance is just around the building."

I knew the holidays was a tough time for Oliver with all his immediate family gone but his face was relaxed and his smile easy. My fingers itched to trace the soft curve of his mouth.

"You didn't have to wait for me out here," I said as I stepped out and tossed my keys over to Trent.

"I wanted to make sure no one accosted you," he said, taking my hand and leading me to the door. "People around here usually leave us alone but you don't exactly escape attention, Viv. I don't want anyone to think you're fair game for anything."

I raised a brow and paused mid-step just as soon as we walked through the front door. "I'm trying to decide whether or not I like being viewed as your rare, collectible piece of ass that no one else can touch."

Oliver shrugged even though his shoulders were strained with a hint of defiance. "Well, you did say we're still very official on paper so yes, I feel a little possessiveness. I might fire or fight any man here tonight who gets too close."

I laughed. "It's Christmas, Oliver. Be charitable."

"I'm letting thirty or so men take a good look at you tonight and that's charitable enough for me," he muttered under his breath as he took the lead and steered us to the lounge area to the side where it was buzzing with activity.

Oliver wasn't exaggerating when he said I didn't escape notice because all heads turned to me at our entrance. My face was attractive enough to do it but my long hair was usually the show-stopper with its brilliant penny shade. It might as well be neon orange for all the double-takes it could generate. It stood out more starkly against the snow white softness of my cashmere sweater which I'd paired with slim, black faux leather pants and pointy, red suede pumps. I would consider this elegant yet casual but it was still too dainty-looking amidst the crowd they were feeding here tonight.

The majority was made up of guys somewhere in their teens and just beyond Oliver's age. They also looked a little rough around the edges, some even a bit dangerous.

Before I could ask Oliver who they were, he introduced me to a handful of his staff who were volunteering. It was curious to watch him try since the last time he'd introduced me had been to our limo driver who drove us from the Vegas chapel the night we got married.

"Everyone, this is Vivienne," he said and I caught his pause at where my last name would usually be said. He caught my gaze and straightened himself in resignation. "Vivienne Cartwright. She's a close friend of mine. She's also Stellan's sister. She's going to help out wherever she can tonight."

The group hesitated for a second as if they didn't quite know what to make of me.

"An apron to start with would be greatly appreciated," I said, flashing them a smile and finally spurring them into action.

But before anyone could hand me anything, a large hand attached to a much larger arm dangled a clean apron in front of me. I followed the line of thick muscles to the mountain of a man standing just off to side. He was probably about six and a half feet tall and as wide as an SUV, none of it fat—just big bones and big muscle. He had thick black hair hanging loose around his face but it did nothing to soften the menace of his face. He wasn't handsome but there was something compelling—and intimidating—about his dark eyes, the jagged white scar slashed across his right brow and the complete absence of emotion on his granite expression.

"Thank you," I said as I took the apron.

"Vivienne, this is Dominic Savage," Oliver said, giving the silent, stoic man a friendly smile. "He's my business partner here—owns half the place. And this whole thing is his idea."

It didn't take any guessing on my part to know that Oliver considered the man important and not just because they were partners. He seemed like someone who'd seen the kind of darkness none of Oliver's best friends would ever understand.

"It's nice to meet you, Dominic." Instantly warming up to him, I extended my hand. "I hope you don't mind if I crashed the party."

He looked at my hand for a moment as if he didn't quite know what to do with it. Then Oliver nudged him good-naturedly, prodding him to react.

His hand could easily crush bones but he was gentle when he shook my hand in what seemed like the shortest second possible.

"The cake's coming out next. They'll need plates," was all he said before giving us a brusque nod and turning away.

"He means well," Oliver murmured to me as he guided me toward the kitchen with his hand on the small of my back. "Sav mostly communicates with his fists. He fought in the streets like I used to. I only ever lost to him before I set up this shop. Didn't take much to talk him into coming on board. He's our top prizefighter here."

"And who are the people who came here tonight?"

"People Sav knew from the streets. He would never admit it out loud but he tries to help whoever wants it. We opened all our jobs to anyone who wants a fresh start and some of them have really stuck around so they're all happy to volunteer tonight. Just wanted to remind the rest of something good, you know? It helps keep them from the edge."

"Well, you know all about hovering over the edge, don't you, Oliver?" I said in a murmur when we managed to pause by a corner in the kitchen that wasn't heavy with foot traffic. I turned to look at him, wondering if he would ever stop surprising me. "I wish I'd known about you and this other world you inhabited all those years ago. I might've been able to understand so much about you back then."

His smile was sad as he leaned down and gently bumped his forehead against mine. "I didn't want to destroy your fairy tales back then, Viv. I only cared that I could give you a happily-ever-after."

I smiled back. "That might still happen. You never know."

"God, I hope so," he said before lifting his head to press a kiss on the top of mine. "It was the only thing that kept me going the last six years."

I had just rested my hand on his hip when a shadow loomed over us all of a sudden.

"Plates?" Dominic said as he handed us a stack of small, dessert plates. Whether he deliberately interrupted or not was hard to know but Oliver and I just grinned and split the stack he gave us.

"We better get to that dessert before a riot starts," Oliver murmured in amusement as he followed me out to where two of the staff had started cutting two large sheet cakes.

The rest of dinner went relatively peacefully. We had to be quick on our feet to keep the line moving but everyone was in good spirits. The music never stopped and there was enough food for second helpings. It was busy, loud and a little hot in the kitchen but I genuinely enjoyed every minute of it. Watching Oliver's easy interactions with our guests would make one think he did this everyday. He was in good humor even when a couple of guys were trying to flirt with me.

"Anyone keeping you warm this holidays, miss?" a guy named Ned asked. He was probably the oldest of the bunch with thinning silver hair and beet-red cheeks. "It's cold outside, you know?"

"I'll volunteer!" someone in the crowd yelled just before someone started crooning 'Baby, it's cold outside'.

I grinned. "I'm told a proper coat is just about as good as any man. They're the same level of usefulness to a woman, at least."

The men crowed and snickered while the women laughed.

I caught Oliver's gaze from the other side of the counter and he just smiled and shook his head. Didn't mean he forgot about it.

"I want to be your coat," he said about two hours later, shortly after everyone had left, including the staff.

I turned my head to the side to look at him given that we were lying next to each other on the floor of the fighting cage.

I talked him into giving me a tour of the entire place after we finished cleaning up and our last stop had been the cage. He didn't stop me when I ran up the steps and into the cage, fascinated by this strange world. Strange not because of its brutality because housed in this cage and the rules that protect the fighters, it was a sport, a discipline, even a religion to some. It was the fact that it was another big part of Oliver I never knew that drew me in despite the darker reasons that I knew pushed him to it.

We all have those reasons we rather wish we didn't have. They come from a place of no choice, no absolution, no recompense. You do what needs to get done and pray it's enough.

Without a word, Oliver had stretched out next to me when I sank down on the floor and stared up at the high ceilings where a big cluster of unlit flood lamps hung from.

I smiled at him. "You're pretty heavy for a coat."

He smiled back. "I'll be perfect for keeping you warm and I'll be so heavy that you won't be able to rid of me."

"I might not have said it to everyone earlier but you're definitely better than a coat," I said. "I haven't forgotten."

I felt his hand slide on top of mine, his fingertips curling gently under my palm that I could feel the calloused pads of them.

"What else haven't you forgotten?"

I turned my gaze back to the ceiling and let my mind wander. "The crisp scent of autumn in New York when we'd walk around Central Park. The way you'd always finish my ice cream because I couldn't stand a soggy waffle cone. The way you looked in your suit while you were waiting for me downstairs on my prom night. The funny way your writing looks on letters like I'm the only one meant to ever understand it. The swelling on your hands that one time you visited me and you told me overworked yourself with weights at the gym. I remember the way I always felt safe whenever you wrapped me up in your arms. The way you tried to stay awake trying to review with me for finals. The way your face looked that night in Vegas when you decided you'd either have all of me or nothing. The way you couldn't hold back a stupid grin after the priest told you to kiss the bride."

His hand tightened around mine ever so slightly and his voice had a faint tremor to it when he spoke. "And as much as we both would like to never remember what happened a couple days after that, we can't. And maybe it's for the best that we learn to live with that truth. That we can never say it didn't happen. Or that we didn't screw anything up. Whatever becomes of us now is whatever we can still be after all of that—less, more, maybe whole again even if we know where the all scars and stitches are."

There are scars we'll never see and stitches we'll always know are there, holding us together. Some worse than others, some stronger than we can ever imagine. They will all take time.

"Speaking of scars, come fight me."

Oliver lifted his head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

I jumped up to my feet and stretched my arms upward. "I mean show me how you fight here. Just a little demonstration."

He blinked up at me. "Why?"

"Because I want to learn something useful," I said as I moved to stretch my legs. I'd kicked my heels off before running up here but my pants were going to be a problem.

"Vivienne, I'm not going to fight—"

"Loser hangs a booger on his nose," I said with a crooked grin, reminding him of how he and Stellan and their friends would often taunt each other into competition when they were just skinny ten-year-olds.

Oliver groaned in embarrassment at the memory as he slowly pulled himself up to his feet. "I don't think this is a good idea—"

I yanked off my sweater and tossed it to the floor and followed it with my white camisole.

Oliver straightened all of a sudden when he saw me in my dove gray lace bra. "Um. Uh..."

"Hang on." I hopped on one foot for a bit as I tried to peel off my skin-tight pants and kick them aside. I had matching lace undies on and I knew they flattered me. Oliver definitely looked like he wouldn't disagree as his eyes flared with unmasked desire.

He opened his mouth to speak before snapping it shut as he swallowed hard against protests he didn't really want to make.

"Vivienne... you can't..."

I glanced up and looked around. "Are we completely alone in the building?"

"Yes."

There was usually a guard or two hanging around after the place closed down but Oliver had given them the holidays off. Besides, they had one of Stellan's company's top-notch security systems.

"Are the cameras here on?"

"No. Not in here right now."

My smile broadened as I straightened to my full height, presenting Oliver my body in all its glory while feeling just the barest pang of guilt.

"We're not going to have sex, Oliver."

His heavy lids lifted to look at me. "We're not?"

I laughed, spread my legs apart slightly with my non-dominant leg in front, raised my arms, tucked my elbows lightly and relaxed my hands to flex any way I needed to in a moment.

Having observed my stance, Oliver tilted his head to the side in mild curiosity.

"It's just a little spar, Oliver," I pressed softly.

He exhaled loudly before getting into form, spreading out his weight, bending his knees slightly and angling his arms. Oliver was not some small man. He was tall and lean with sleek, solid muscle. His footing was light which meant speed and he had a long reach. He could come down on me quick.

The moment he pounced, my left arm came up to deflect his right and push it down, angling him to a slight bend and sliding me forward into his personal space so that my right arm could reach up and grab him by shoulder. I was pulling him down and aiming my knee toward his thigh while taking care not to actually groin him when he clasped me around the chest and shoulders with his left arm, pivoted and tossed me over him and down the pad in a flawless hip throw.

I groaned as my head spun and my bones vibrated from the impact. Oliver swore viciously.

"Goddamit, Vivienne! Are you okay?"

He leaned down on me and the moment my vision cleared, I thrust my hips up as I hooked my legs around his waist and lurched sideways to destabilize him and send us both rolling on the floor until I was straddled on top of him.

"My pride's a little bruised—probably my bum too—but I'm okay," I told him with a laugh as I relaxed on top of him, trying to let the adrenaline seep out of my muscles.

"Where the hell did you learn that?" Oliver demanded, a little incredulous but impressed at the same time.

"A little Krav Maga, a little Brazilian Jiu Jitsu," I said, sweeping my hair over my neck. "When I was in Paris, I busted my ass off working to fill my time. I couldn't go home so I always had to be busy with something. I worked out, I ran. Tried some kick-boxing. You could say I had some pent-up frustration. A little rage."

Oliver winced at that but I just smiled. It wasn't everything but there was a lot of truth to it.

"Plus, I was living on my own. So I signed up for self-defense training. I've been at it for about four years now. Got my blue belt just last year."

"I'm very proud of you," he said, finally smiling back, his arms sliding around my waist to keep me in place. "Watching you move like that was pretty hot even as my head started to spin."

"And here I thought it was all my charm."

He grinned and snuggled me closer to him and I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the hard contours of his body against mine. "You think you know someone so well and they go ahead and surprise you."

"I could say the same about you." I rested my chin on his chest. "You wanna hear something funny?"

"What?"

"One of my trainers is part of a stunt team who regularly works with production companies. He invited a casting director to one of our mock tournaments and the guy recognized me. Asked me if I could fight in heels. He wanted me to audition for a Bond girl role."

"No way."

"Yes way."

"Why didn't you do it?"

"That life is not in the cards for me," I said with as much of a shrug as I could manage. "Besides, I've only got time for one Casanova."

"I haven't been one for a long time, Viv," Oliver said, his humor slightly dampened by the reminder.

"Good," I said, wondering if there would ever come a time when he would stop punishing himself. God knows we'd both paid the price."Do you want to be that coat now? I'm cold."

"Gladly."

Oliver wrapped his arms around my slender frame to warm me, his ankles looping around mine and his chin tucking just above my head.

"You feel like the best thing in the world right now."

I lifted my eyes to him. "You know what would be better?"

"What?"

"If you kiss me," I said mischievously. "It's Christmas."

Oliver's breath caught.

For all our slowly rediscovered intimacy in the past few months, we haven't kissed once. You'd think it would count as a baby step but there was a significance to it I couldn't accurately explain. Oliver and I were trying to find our way back from a place of so much bitterness and pain. Each of us was unwilling to leave the other behind no matter what they'd done and the only way out of it together was to learn to trust each other again and in what we've always had between us. A kiss meant handing a bigger piece of ourselves to each other, trusting that it would be protected and cared for this time around.

Slowly, Oliver's hand glided into my hair, his fingers cupping the curve of the back of my head as he tilted my face toward his.

His lips were soft but his kiss wasn't.

His restraint broke at the first contact and mine shattered right after.

There was so much heat and hunger in the bruising force of our kiss, unleashing with every stroke and taste and breath we'd steal and share. Oliver's hands moved down the length of my back until they cupped me from behind, his fingers kneading my flesh as his lips and tongue continued to devastate any defense I had.

He was hard and pulsing against my belly, the heat of him scorching me even through the denim of his pants and the lace of my underwear and even out of my head, I tried not to take it too far by grinding myself against him.

"I don't know..." he panted as he tore his mouth from mine to gasp in some air. "I don't know how I managed... all these years... without this."

"Probably with your hand," I said on a husky laugh which prompted him to grin at me with bright, dazed eyes. His lips were swollen and rubbed a bit raw but he looked the happiest I'd seen him a while.

"Stay with me tonight, Viv," he said softly. "I'm not asking for more. I just want to hold you. I want us to spend Christmas together."

"Alright." I leaned down and kissed him on the chin. "Let's go home."

***

So, what do you think?

I wanted to post some bonus content for Christmas but as some of you might now, I've been sick for like 6 weeks now so it's been hard. But I thought you wouldn't mind an extra chapter this weekend and it also happened to be Christmas in the story timeline as well. 

Also, in case some of you think it's completely random to have the Bond girl piece in there, it's a shoutout to what Vivienne told Charlotte when they first met in TMMM. I figured I wouldn't let it just be a joke but a real thing. LOL. 

We've got about six or so chapters left in this story. I'm amazed at how I'm able to control my word count now but I'm not quite where I want to be yet so baby steps for now.

Hope you enjoy it and I hope you're having the best holidays ever!

P.S. Love this song for this season...

XOXO,

Ninya

♪♪♪ Chapter Soundtrack: Snow by Sleeping At Last ♪♪♪

The branches have traded their leaves for white sleeves

All warm-blooded creatures make ghosts as they breathe

Scarves are wrapped tightly like gifts under trees

Christmas lights tangle in knots annually

Our families huddle closely

Betting warmth against the cold

But our bruises seem to surface

Like mud beneath the snow

So we sing carols softly, as sweet as we know

A prayer that our burdens will lift as we go

Like young love still waiting under mistletoe

We'll welcome december with tireless hope

Let our bells keep on ringing

Making angels in the snow

May the melody disarm us

When the cracks begin to show

Like the petals in our pockets

May we remember who we are

Unconditionally cared for

By those who share our broken hearts

The table is set and our glasses are full

Though pieces go missing, may we still feel whole

We'll build new traditions in place of the old

'cause life without revision will silence our souls

So let the bells keep on ringing

Making angels in the snow

May the melody surround us

When the cracks begin to show