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The credits of the episode were rolling silently on the screen when Olivia finally stirred an hour later. She let out a long, feline stretch against his lap, her movements slow and syrupy with sleep. Derek gritted his teeth, holding back a jagged groan as her weight shifted against his persistent, painful ache.

When her eyes finally fluttered open, she stayed still for a heartbeat, processing the denim beneath her cheek and the steady, frantic thud of the heart beneath her ear. Then, the realization hit. She sat up so fast she nearly knocked the remote off the cushion, her face flooding with a deep, spectacular crimson.

“Gosh,” she breathed, hiding her face in her palms. “I can’t believe I did that. I fell asleep... like, immediately.”

Derek managed a strained but genuine smile, his hand finally dropping from where it had been guarding her sleep. “It’s alright, Liv. You were exhausted. I think the drinks might have had something to do with it, too.”

Olivia peeked at him through her fingers, her embarrassment radiating off her in waves. “I hope I wasn't... I don't know, snoring? Making weird noises?”

Derek’s eyes sparked with a familiar, wicked mischief. “Oh, you were. Snoring like a chainsaw. And the drooling? It was legendary, really, but nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Derek!” she groaned, her blush deepening until it reached the tips of her ears. She grabbed a nearby throw pillow and swatted his arm, which only made him break into a low, rumbling laugh.

“Relax,” he said, his voice softening as the laughter died down. “You were perfect. I didn't mind at all. I actually... I enjoyed the show as much as I enjoyed watching you sleep.”

Olivia looked up at him then. The playful atmosphere shifted, the air in the room suddenly feeling heavy and charged. Her eyes were soft, vulnerable, and searchingly honest. “I’m glad you came, Derek,” she whispered. “I really am.”

Derek’s heart didn't just soar; it felt like it was trying to break through his ribs. “I’m glad I came, too.”

The silence that followed was dangerous. It was the kind of silence that preceded a storm. Derek watched as Olivia’s eyes drifted to his lips. Without thinking, the tip of her tongue darted out to dampen her lower lip before she caught it between her teeth.

The movement was agonizing. Derek’s jeans felt like they were made of iron. He wanted to reach out, tangle his fingers in that messy ponytail, and pull her into a kiss that would bridge the gap of every lonely night they’d spent apart. He wanted to be inside her, losing himself in her heat, thrusting again and again until the rest of the world stopped existing.

But he couldn't, at least not today. He had a second chance to start things right with her—a fragile, beautiful foundation—and he wasn't going to crack it by rushing into the physical. He needed her to trust him when the lights were on, not just when the chemistry was high.

“I should probably go,” he said, the words sounding like they were being dragged over gravel.

Olivia blinked, the dazed, fog in her eyes clearing as if he’d splashed cold water on her, and interrupting her thoughts. Her very dirty thoughts. “Yeah,” she said, her voice a bit breathless as she stood up quickly. 

Derek followed her to the door, adjusting his shirt and pants, trying to mask the physical evidence of how much he wanted her. He stopped at the threshold, the cool air from the hallway creeping in around the frame.

“I had a wonderful Christmas, Liv,” he said, his gaze lingering on her face.

Olivia laughed softly, that pretty pink hue still staining her cheeks. “All we did was eat, drink, and watch TV. And I slept through the last part.”

“And it was perfect,” Derek told her, his voice dropping into that intimate register that made her heart spike. “I hope we get to spend time like this again soon. Real soon.”

He stepped into her space, closing the gap until he could smell the vanilla on her skin again. Olivia’s breath hitched; she tilted her head back, her lips parted in clear, silent invitation. He was going to kiss her… She wanted him to kiss her—he could see it in the way her pulse was drumming against the hollow of her throat.

But instead of her lips, Derek leaned in and pressed a lingering, feather-light kiss to her cheek. It was so gentle, so respectful, and so intimate that Olivia instinctively closed her eyes, the sensation vibrating all the way down to her toes.

“I’ll be in touch,” he murmured against her skin.

He pulled back just enough to see her nod, her expression dazed and longing. Derek gave her one last, lingering look—a promise of things to come—before he stepped out and closed the door softly behind him.

On the other side of the door, Olivia stood frozen, her hand pressed against her chest as if she could manually slow the wild, frantic beating of her heart before her fingers traced the spot on her cheek where Derek’s lips had lingered. 

Finally, she exhaled a breath and moved back into the living room. She snatched her phone off the coffee table, her thumb hovering over Isabella’s contact before she pressed dial.

Isabella picked up on the second ring, her voice already defensive and moving at ninety miles an hour. “Hey, girl! What's up,” she said, “You're not calling to yell at me for sending Derek over are you? I swear it was his idea. He had that look in his eyes, like a kicked puppy with a leather jacket , and I just couldn't—”

“Shut up, Izzy,” Olivia interrupted, a wide, unstoppable smile breaking across her face.

There was a pregnant pause on the other end of the line. Isabella’s tone shifted from defensive to dangerously curious. “Wait. That wasn't a ‘shut up and die’ voice. That was a... giggly ‘shut up.’ Liv? What happened?”

“Thank you,” Olivia said, her voice softening. “For sending him. Truly.” She cleared her throat, trying to regain some of her composure, though it was a lost cause. “I actually called to ask if the invitation to that party tonight was still open. I think I’d like to come with you.”

A high-pitched, glass-shattering squeal erupted from the phone, making Olivia wince and pull the device away from her ear, laughing.

“Oh my God!” Isabella shrieked. “The hermit is coming out of her shell! I take it things went well? On a scale of one to ‘we’re naming our first child,’ how well did it go?”

“Just answer the question, you gossip,” Olivia countered, though she was practically glowing. 

“Hell yeah, it’s still open!” Isabella said. “Wear a nice dress. No— A slutty one. We are celebrating! I’ll be there in a few hours. Don't you dare change your mind!”

“I won’t,” Olivia promised, catching her reflection in the darkened window. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks still flushed, and for the first time, she didn't feel like she was just surviving the holidays.