*

It turns out Storie is insanely competitive.

I had no idea. But the moment she joins Monopoly – once the girls have had a moment to hyperventilate and Mom's had a moment to gush over Storie and the boys have been persuaded to restart the game – I see a whole new side of her.

She is ruthless, whether she's making deals with poor old Sammy or gleefully adding houses and hotels to an entire side of the board after bleeding Dad dry of cash. I don't even care when I land on Boardwalk with a hotel because honestly I'm kind of turned on. I owe her two grand, two grand that I definitely don't have even if I mortgage every property I have, so I hand over what little cash I have and I throw my meagre properties into the middle for whoever lands on free parking next.

"Damn, Liam, your girlfriend is savage," Matthew says with a laugh when, on his roll, he lands on Pacific Avenue and manages to scrounge up the $1275 he owes. She counts it with a grin, fanning out the cash before sorting it into piles, and even Dad looks amused.

"Well, seeing as I'm out, anyone want a drink?" I ask, getting to my feet with a grunt. "Tea? Coffee? Prosecco? Beer?"

I get a whole bunch of responses thrust at me and have to make a note on my phone to remember them all, and it's momentary relief to be alone in the kitchen, boiling the kettle and pouring prosecco, and warming milk for Anna. I have a bottle of bubbly in my hand when I hear footsteps and I look up to see Storie, and my heart flips over at the sight of her. She's wearing a thick sweater, the sleeves coming halfway down her hands, and she looks so soft and warm; I put down the bottle and envelop her in my arms.

Her ear is pressed against my chest and I close my eyes for a moment, resting my cheek on her hair. My heart settles, my pulse slipping back to normal, and still locked in a hug, I start to sway. There's music playing far off at the other end of the house, just loud enough to hear, and I move my feet, and Storie moves hers.

We're dancing slowly, not quite slow dancing, to what sounds like a new version of an old Christmas Carol, and when Storie starts to hum, I feel it vibrating in my chest. My hands drop from around her shoulders to her hips, my fingers lacing at the small of her back as we move in sync.

"You're not out of the game yet," I murmur. "You're two rolls away from winning."

"The game can wait a minute," she says, bringing one hand up to my neck to guide my lips to hers. Screw Monopoly. This is far more important.

We kiss like we have all the time in the world. We kiss like we're the only people in this house. I forget how to breathe, drinking in every nanosecond of this moment. A moment that only ends when I hear the slap of much smaller feet growing closer, and we part in time to see Anna rushing in.

"Are you coming back?"

"We're coming," Storie says, disentangling herself from me. I make a mess of rushing to sort everyone's drinks, and I'm sure I splash a couple drops of prosecco into Anna's milk, so I sprinkle in a little more sugar to hide the taste, and we return to my family.

It isn't long before the game's over. Storie wins with ease, bankrupting every single one of us. She collects cash and properties with glee, planting hotels on every spot until she runs out and has to buy houses, and as hard as Dad tries to stay in the game with the three cards in his hand, he can't hold on for long. There's a ten-minute stand-off, when he gets lucky with a few rolls and avoids landing on any of Storie's properties, but it all comes crashing down in seconds when he lands on Boardwalk and has to surrender.

"Good game," he says, shaking her hand. "A humiliating defeat for me, but a good game."

She beams. Getting praise from Vitaly Alexandrov can be like getting blood from a stone. It's worth soaking up every drop.

"And there goes the evening," Johnny says. "How's Christmas nearly over already?"

"Time flies when you're having fun, baby," Mom says, patting his knee. "Have you enjoyed today, at least?"

He tries to play it cool, but this has been a great Christmas. There's nothing like having the whole family together, something that's so rare these days, and to have Storie here too? It's the icing on the cake.

As the minutes tick by, we start to peel off, once Mom takes Anna to bed and Daria follows. Matty's so drunk and tired he can hardly keep his eyes open, and once the group disintegrates, Storie and I drag ourselves up to my room.

It's a cool and quiet haven in here. My sheets are cold and crisp when I sink onto my bed and pull Storie onto my lap, and she laughs and loses her balance and we end up lying side by side.

"So." I trace the curve of her cheek with the tip of my finger. "What was that you were saying about a present?"

Storie laughs. She rolls onto her front and props herself up on her elbows, and her brown cheeks are tinged with red, a blush creeping in. "Okay, it's a bit bigheaded of me to call it a present," she says. My interest grows. "It's more like ... and offer?"

"Oh?"

"It's just that, you know, I love you, and I want this to work. I want us to work. And I want you to be happy."

I mirror her position, my eyes fixed on hers as I try to figure out what she's getting at. "I am happy," I say, and it strikes me that it's true. I really am happy.

"I was thinking..." She trails off, picking at a loose thread on my comforter. "Well, I know you don't like your place and I know you're stressed about rent and potentially having to move home. And, well..." Her eyes meet mine. "Why don't you move in with me?"

"What?" I go still. I swear my heart stops for a couple of seconds.

"I get kinda lonely all on my own in my apartment," she says with a shrug. Her eyes drop to her hands again. "And I happen to have a very cute boyfriend who I like quite a lot, who might possibly be interested in moving in with me."

"Wait. Storie. Are you serious right now?" I sit up, immediately sober after a day of gently drinking. Storie nods. She sits up too and her hand finds mine, her fingers tracing over mine like she's trying to memorize the map of tendons and bones and veins beneath the skin.

"I'm serious," she says. "That's, like, the other half of the reason I drove down today. I wanted to ask you in person." Rearing back suddenly she says, "There's no pressure, of course. It's just an offer, if you're interested." Her smile returns, that soft little smile, and she looks up at me through her eyelashes and I am so in love, and I am so stunned.

"I'd love that," I say. I don't have to think about it because why the fuck would I do anything but agree? Of course I want to live with Storie. Holy shit. This is everything I've wanted for years. "Shit, Storie, you mean it?"

She laughs and her hand crawls up my arm to my neck and she rests her forehead against mine, our noses pressing together. "I mean it. Move in with me, Liam."

A laugh bursts out of me. Surprise and joy and love and wow. "Wait, is Kris okay with that? I know it's his place and he's not a hundred percent sold on me—"

"Kris is fine with it," she says, shutting me up. "And he's sold on you. I'm sold on you, Liam. That's what matters." She nuzzles my jaw and I hold her, and this ball of emotion grows in my chest, threatening to tear open at the thought of the security she's offering me. Somewhere to live in the city I want to live in. Somewhere safe, with the girl I love. The only girl I've ever loved.

"I can't wait to live with you," I manage to say without crying, and when my body sags with relief, I flop onto my back and grin, and I pull Storie across me. She folds her arms on my chest, gazing down at me, and I lift my head to kiss her and when our teeth knock together, she laughs and elbows me in the chest.

"Ow, fuck." I clutch my ribs and groan, more dramatically than the relatively low grade pain deserves. Storie, sitting up now, pouts at me.

"Oh, no, you got a booboo?" Her hand lingers on my hip, my skin tingling where we're touching. Leaning down, her hand slips up under my t-shirt to graze my rib. "Want me to kiss it better?"

"Please," I rasp. It's the only word I can manage. I hitch up my shirt and Storie's hands trail over my stomach; she kisses the tender spot where she dug her elbow in, and she pushes my top higher. When I struggle out of it, trying not to elbow her nose, her lips climb to my neck and I'm gone.

This is more than just kissing. This is so much more than anything we've done since we reconnected, and my heart is in my throat as her fingers trace over my chest, as her lips plant kisses along my jaw. I can't breathe, so wrapped up in her. Her touch is electric. I run my hands through her hair, bunching it in my fists, and when I come back to my senses, slowly recovering from the shock of her offer and her touch, my hands find their way under her sweater.

It doesn't stay on for long.

God, how I've missed the feel of her.

I don't want to push it. I don't want to do anything she isn't ready to do. But when I roll her onto her back and straddle her thighs to kiss her, my hands either side of her head, she pulls me closer, and I read her question in her eyes when her fingers find the waistband of my sweatpants.

Are we doing this? she asks, and I nod, breathing her in as I pull off her leggings in the glow of the moonlight pouring through my window.

"Is this okay?" I ask, my words a breath, my fingers skimming that soft patch of flesh where her stomach meets her thighs. She nods, and she's smiling so wide, and our hands fumble as we kiss and even after years without touch, I suddenly remember what to do, I remember every part of Storie; she still feels the same, and I want to press my lips to every inch of her body.

In fact, I make it my mission.

I don't know if it's ten minutes or thirty or two hours before we are spent, breathing hard and lying naked on my bed. Time passes in a heady whirlwind of stifled moans and swallowed ecstasy. My head is a cotton candy cloud. That was ... that was so much more than it was before. That was years of buildup. Years of longing.

Thank fuck for the stash of condoms in my bathroom, thankfully still in date despite the fact that I haven't had sex in four years.

"Fuck," Storie says at long last. Her hand is over her heart, which must be spinning out of control if it's beating half as fast as mine.

"I think we just did," I say. She splutters a laugh and covers her mouth. We're both painfully aware that my entire family is in this house, and at the last minute I remembered to lock my door in case Anna or Daria came wandering. They didn't, thank god, else that really would've killed the mood. Can't imagine much worse than one of my baby sisters walking in while I'm going down on my girlfriend.

Storie flops onto her side like her body is a bag of flour, all energy gone. Her breasts, full and heavy, press together, and she pulls up the comforter over her belly as though I don't love it, as though I don't adore her without reserve.

I scoot closer, until our bare chests touch, and I run a slow hand from her shoulder down to her hip, my eyes closed as my fingers trace every curve, every dip, every bump of a stretchmark. I kiss her, pulling her lip between my teeth as my hand slips between her hot thighs and she gasps against my tongue, opening up like a flower.

"Talk to me," I whisper. Her breath hitches. She drapes her arm around my shoulders, holding me to her. "Tell me what you want."

"You," she says, sucking in a deep breath. "I want you."

*

hello! it's been a while! work has got way crazier than i expected (i'm doing ~20 hours overtime each week at the moment and considering i work on my feet all day i am TIRED) so writing has been pushed to the back of my priority pile! but i hope you liked this chapter!