Katniss presses a hand to her stomach when she feels it trying to drop down to her shoes.

His brother? She isn't prepared for this.

Peeta frowns when the persistent ringing of the doorbell elevates to a bang bang bang on the door. "I'm sorry," he apologizes again, running a hand through his damp blonde hair. He clumsily pulls on his pants, grimacing with the effort. "As you can tell, my brother is, ah, a little irritating."

She wants so badly to help him, but she senses it would be an unwelcome offer. Katniss may not have known him for long, but she's well aware of the importance he places on having dignity and self-sufficiency within his disability. She reminds herself that he's been dressing and taking caring of himself long before she came along.

"What are we going to tell him?" Katniss asks, retrieving her clothes and redressing as well. She looks around the room and bites her lip. "Should I hide?"

"Hide?" he echoes, visibly disturbed. He stops while mid-buttoning his dress shirt, and her eyes flick to the tantalizing expanse of exposed skin even though she has already seen every naked inch of it. "No, of course not. I'm not hiding you."

"So we should lie," she guesses matter-of-factly. She shakes her hair out and braids it again. Peeta watches her, his mouth slightly parted. She cocks her head at him searchingly, and the glazed look in his eye finally clears. "About what I am," she clarifies, expecting a response.

Riiing. Riiiing. Bang Bang.

He rubs his cheek, leaving a pink mark behind. "I don't see why we have to explain anything," he replies slowly. "You're a beautiful woman whom I'm spending time with. That's all he needs to know."

Katniss regards him, the skepticism obvious on her face. "All right." She nods, tapping her finger on her thigh. "I'll defer to you."

"No." He crosses the room and holds her hands with his, his mouth drawn in a stubborn line. "We're in this together."

Her breath catches at his proximity, and she's immediately reminded of the chemistry between them. Even the touch of his fingers on hers is enough to send a fissure of pleasure spiraling down her belly.

"Together," Katniss repeats. She smiles reassuringly when he raises at an eyebrow at her, as if silently asking for her permission to proceed. "Okay."

He nods and walks toward the doorway, still holding one of her hands. She follows behind him, a little dazed. They pass his wheelchair when they enter the hallway, and Peeta looks back at her almost in warning. She wisely keeps her mouth closed and doesn't suggest he use it again, though when he turns around, she can't help but frown at his pronounced limp.

BAM BAM BAM.

"Which one is it?" Katniss asks when they're nearer to the front door. She remembers Peeta confiding that he isn't close with either of them, but she'd like to know whom to expect. "Which brother, I mean?"

She sits down on a plush couch in the living area and watches Peeta walk to the door.

"Rye," he says lowly. His hand comes to rest on the doorknob, his body half facing her. "The middle brother. He's actually the best case scenario."

"Peeta!" a muffled voice calls out from behind the door. "What the hell? I know you're in there."

He sighs. "Ready?"

Katniss shrugs, praying that this isn't going to be as awkward as she suspects it will be. "As I'll ever be." She crosses and uncrosses her legs.

"Answer your damn phone," Rye says upon entrance, brushing past Peeta a little too callously for Katniss' liking. "You could've been dead for all I knew."

"I'm touched," Peeta replies dryly, shutting the door behind his brother. "I'm sure it was my well-being that brought you here tonight."

"How do your underlings get ahold of you? You're the head of the company." His brother looks at him accusingly. "Or is it just your family's calls that you screen?"

"Do you really want to chat about the logistics of business and family right now?"

Rye shrugs off his jacket and throws it onto the coat rack. "Don't get snarky with m—" He stops, his eyes widening when they land on Katniss.

She fiddles with her hair and gives a little wave. "Hi."

"And who is this?" He eyes her with appreciation and more than a little surprise.

"This is Katniss," Peeta announces. He walks into the living area and takes a seat on the couch next to her. She's a bit disconcerted by how much his presence relaxes her. "Katniss, this is my brother, Rye."

Rye claps his hands together with impish delight, appearing more like a teenage boy than a grown man. "Now I know why you've locked yourself away in the tower."

"Don't start," Peeta says, looking at her apologetically. "Please be civilized around Katniss."

"Oh, c'mon." Rye shakes his head and walks to the wet bar, giving them his back while pouring a decanter of brown liquor into a highball glass. He turns around to address Katniss, who's sitting a little more stiffly than before. "I don't mean to be crass, but you have to understand my burning need to tease my uptight little brother. I can't remember the last time he had a lady friend."

Peeta sucks in a breath, barely audible except that she's sitting rather next to him. She's mortified for him rather than personally embarrassed.

Rye waves his glass in the air for emphasis. "I mean, it's been years. Delly did a real number on your ass, didn't she?" He looks at Peeta and shakes his head.

"Please stop."

"Hey, I'm thrilled!" Rye says. "I seriously thought I'd have to hire a date for you. I was getting concerned." He winks as if he made a great joke, and Katniss swallows.

"Imagine that," she says.

"Say, you're going to the wedding this weekend, right?" Rye asks her.

"Um." She looks at Peeta with helpless eyes.

"That's the last thing Katniss wants to do," Peeta says calmly, only the tightening of his fingers around the couch cushions belying his discomfort. "She doesn't care for weddings."

She jerks her head and looks at him. How did he know that?

He quirks his lips back at her, and she laughs inwardly at his lucky guess expression.

"What?" Rye is visibly astonished. "What sort of woman doesn't like a wedding?"

"I don't even want to go," Peeta says, ignoring Rye's question. "Why would she?"

"Tough. You have no choice." He waves his glass dismissively. "I don't understand why you and Bran can't just get along."

"You and I barely get along."

Katniss shifts in discomfort and eyes the door. If she had her purse readily available, she would probably be sprinting for the exit right now, no matter how fond she's grown of Peeta.

"Don't be like that, little brother," Rye says. He drops into a wingback chair across from the couch, his legs pushed out in an insouciant sprawl. He looks back and forth between her and his brother, his blue eyes contemplative. "I swear, your sense of humor went away with your leg."

Peeta's jaw tenses.

"What is wrong with you?" Katniss blurts out, shocked.

"Katniss—" Peeta starts, grabbing for her hand, but she jerks it away.

"Seriously. You've been a dick since the moment you showed up—-unannounced, by the way—at Peeta's door." She points at him and leans forward, her eyes intense. "Why are you even here?'

Peeta stares at her in shock, his hand rubbing his neck. His brother's jaw is practically on the floor.

And then Rye starts to clap.

"You picked a real winner," he says with a chuckle, standing up. "Truly impressive."

"Don't patronize me." She glares at him.

Rye holds his hands out. "I would never," he says, his voice equals parts mocking and amused. "I know when I'm not wanted." He looks at Peeta. "I just dropped by after leaving Bran's room. Wanted to give you a heads up that he's pissy that you beat him to the penthouse tonight."

Peeta frowns. "Why would he want to stay here? He lives a block away."

Rye shrugs, downing the rest of his drink and sitting it on the coffee table with a clink. "Something about Cashmere wanting to play 'blushing virgin' until the wedding. She told him it's classier to live together after they're married."

"They're getting married in two days," Peeta says dryly. "They've been living together for two years." He and Rye exchange a brotherly look, the first Katniss has seen of the night. It's endearing.

"Well, I'm out of here," Rye announces. "Katniss, it was delightful to meet you."

"I'm sure," she replies.

He walks toward the door before turning around again. "I'll see you both at the wedding." Rye points at Peeta. "I'll let Mother know to expect your charming plus one." And then he's gone.

A clock ticks in the silence of Rye's departure. Peeta clears his throat and turns to her.

"My hero," he says, twisting his lips when he takes in her confused expression. "You stood up for me to my big, bad brother."

"Oh." She shrugs a shoulder a little awkwardly at his teasing. "He was being an ass."

"That's his way," Peeta says. "It's how he deals with my deformity."

She scowls and crosses her arms. "Don't say that."

"You can't be sensitive if you're a Mellark." He gives her a self-deprecating smile. "My whole family handles it that way. Believe me, you'll get used to—" He cuts off his sentence, his expression dropping.

Katniss' face burns at the realization of what he almost said, and she busies herself with standing up and walking to the kitchen.

"Gonna grab my phone," she says.

You'll get used to it. As if they have a future—as if she were really going to meet his family. As if she would have ever met his brother without this bizarre twist of fate that led to her fucking Peeta for money.

And from the look on Peeta's face, he must realize the same exact thing. Even if he had expressed a desire earlier to get to know her outside of the confines of tonight's arrangement, having to face the shame of introducing her to his brother must have brought reality crashing down on his head.

Katniss grabs her purse from the kitchen counter and scrolls through her texts, noting a few from Prim. She squares her shoulders and walks back into the living room, her wounded pride giving way to concern when Peeta struggles to stand up, presumably to follow her.

"Hold on," she says, moving quickly down the hall.

Peeta's face grows stormy at the sight of the wheelchair she's pushing toward him. "No," he says. "I don't need it."

"You do," Katniss retorts. "God, Peeta. Stop being so damn stubborn."

He exhales sharply, closing his eyes before dropping down into the chair. "Fine."

"Okay," she says, wiping her hands on her dress. She walks to the door and slips on the heels she kicked off earlier in the night before turning to face Peeta. She falters for a moment at the dismayed look on his face. "I'm going to go."

"So soon?" He runs a hand through his hair. "I thought—"

"It's been fun. It really has. You're a great guy." She forces a smile. "But we both know this isn't going anywhere. We're not...compatible."

Peeta stares up at her, his face shuttering closed at her words. "I see."

A pang of disappointment runs through her veins, which immediately pisses her off. What else did she expect? For him to argue? To beg her to stay? She wasn't even a good fuck.

"It was nice meeting you," she says lamely, her hand on the doorknob.

"Katniss," he says forcefully. "Wait."

Her heart beats in anticipation and surprise. She turns back toward him, but he's already wheeling out of view. She follows him into the kitchen and watches in confusion when he stops at the counter.

Peeta reaches for something that's lying next to a stack of envelopes, and it takes her a moment to comprehend what he's doing, even when he uncaps his expensive pen that he abandoned earlier after writing down...the going rate for the night…

The crisp noise of him tearing away a check from his checkbook brings her tumbling back down to earth.

Peeta turns in the chair and holds it out to her. "This is yours."

Katniss stares at the check, unmoving. "I..."

"Please, let's not do this." His expression is unreadable. "You and I both know you need it. It's why you're here. It's why you agreed to sleep with me."

She winces. "But I didn't the stay the whole night."

"Even still," Peeta says, unwavering. "I got what I wanted."

Ow. Wow.

Katniss nods curtly, taking the check from his extended hand. "All right."

And then she turns on her heel and walks out.

She unlocks the apartment door, her shoulders slumping in exhaustion.

"It's probably better that I'm getting canned tomorrow," she mumbles to herself.

"Who's getting canned?"

Katniss jumps, whirling around to face her sleepy sister. "Good grief, Prim." She runs a hand across her face. "You scared me to death."

"Likewise," Prim retorts, flicking on the hall light. "I didn't think you'd be home tonight."

"Well." A small sigh of relief escapes her throat after kicking off her heels. "My plans changed." She throws her sister a half-hearted smile and tosses her purse onto their second hand couch. "I'm gonna go to bed, okay?"

"Katniss."

She stops and turns toward Prim. "Yes?"

"You'd tell me…" She bites her lip. "You're okay, right? Your job?"

Katniss stiffens. "Yeah. It's okay. Events like this are just a bitch." She pastes on an amused expression. "You know I hate being social."

God, she hates lying to her sister, but she'd rather take a bullet before admitting to Prim that she's not, in fact, working as a coordinator for an elite party planning company.

Prim cracks a smile back. "Gotcha. Good night, Katniss."

"Good night, Prim."

She slowly closes her bedroom door, walks to her bed, and collapses face down on the mattress.

"You're a fortunate young lady," Effie says, her normally effervescent voice dull with surprise. "I thought I'd be calling you in to release you from employment, but a very interesting call this morning changed the game completely."

Katniss stills mid-yawn. "A call?"

"Oh, yes." Her supervisor rifles through an ornate, gold box before pulling out a white card. "We had a special request for your services." She grins, her eyes sparkling. "A whole weekend, at that!"

"Who?" she blurts out, uncrossing her legs.

"You know we don't normally give out names until arrival," Effie muses, hesitating. She taps the card on her mahogany desk. "But it's also best to go into such a high profile date with your eyes open this time. I tried to suggest one of our more experienced girls, but he wouldn't hear of it. Said he'd heard good things about you." She eyes Katniss with doubt. "We can't have a repeat of last night."

"I swear I'll do better."

"You mustn't be late."

"I won't," Katniss promises. "Last night was a fluke. The elevator—"

"No excuses," she interrupts firmly. "This is simply your last chance, and Peeta Mellark is not someone we want to disappoint."

Oh my god.

"...Peeta Mellark?" Katniss echoes, her voice faint.

"Yes. You've heard of him?" Effie sounds pleased. "The odds were in your favor today."

Katniss twitches as she waits on the sidewalk two days later. She's a little early, but she has nothing better to do but wait for the car her client—Peeta—is sending to her building. She shifts the bag strung over her shoulder, packed light per instructions from Effie.

She brushes an errant strand of hair out of her eyes and watches as a sleek, black town car pulls to the curb. The driver emerges, whisks the bag away from her shoulder and opens the door before she blink. She slides into the backseat and sucks in a breath at the sight of the face that greets her.

"Hi," Peeta says.

She takes her time buckling the seat belt. "I didn't expect you."

He lifts an eyebrow. "Oh? Did you think you'd be going to the wedding alone?"

"I thought we'd be meeting at the airport." She scowls at his teasing tone. "What's this all about, Peeta? Why did you ask for me?"

His smile fades. "I needed a date for the event. That's all."

"Really?" she scoffs. "I truly doubt you needed—" she stops and lowers her voice at his warning look that he shoots toward the driver "—an escort for that. I don't care what Rye said. You can do better than that."

"Well, I wanted you," he says, his expression growing remote. "And that's what I'm paying for. Are you going to give me a hard time the whole weekend? Or it that extra?"

She glares at him. "No," she grounds out, pasting a smile on her face. It gives her perverse satisfaction to see his frown deepen. "That's all free."

The tension grows as they arrive to the gates of a private airfield outside of the city.

"We're taking the company jet," Peeta explains briefly.

"How luxurious."

He ignores her pissy tone opens his door after the car stops. She does the same, not waiting for the driver or Peeta to do it for her. She stretches her arms to the sky and watches as Peeta walks toward her, his leg dragging slightly.

"Are you feeling okay?" she asks, the words popping out with more concern that she would like.

"How solicitous of you." He flashes a humorless look her way, and they start walking toward the jet. "I'm fine. I was fitted for my new prosthetic yesterday. Just getting used to it."

"Peeta—"

"Please don't mention that damn chair to me."

"No, I was going to say….I'm sorry. For my attitude. I was just caught off-guard by all of this. I didn't expect to see you again."

Peeta's shoulders relax, and his expression changes from cold to abashed. "No. Don't apologize. I'm terribly sorry for acting so wounded." He looks at her with rueful eyes. "I'm obviously a bit touchy about the wheelchair. And truthfully, I hated how it ended between us."

The brisk wind slaps at her cheeks, filling them with color. It's not because she's filled with heat at the thought of the night before last. "I didn't like it it either, for what it's worth."

"It's worth a great deal," he assures her. His face tightens when he stumbles a bit, and she smoothly slides her arm through his wordlessly. Peeta glances at her out of the corner of his eye and continues as they approach the ramp of the jet. "It's just...when you said we weren't compatible, it reminded me that you're entirely out of my league."

Katniss barks out a laugh. "Me?" she asks, incredulous. Her voice lowers to a hush. "Peeta. I said that because I'm a prostitute."

"You're an escort," Peeta corrects her as they board the jet. "There's no shame in that. And you're no better or worse of a person than I am. And considering what a brute I've been this morning, I'd say you're considerably above me in class."

"Woah. Talk about class," she blurts out, her eyes wide as she takes in the cabin of the jet. A pretty flight attendant with a nametag reading Lavinia greets them, and the girl's swishy red hair shines as she leads them to their plush seats. "This is...I've never seen anything like this."

"Do you fly often?" Peeta asks, clearly pleased with her reaction. He buckles into the seat and helps her when she fumbles with her own.

"No, never. You're my first, so be gentle." She curses herself for the stupid, awkward joke and quickly looks toward Lavinia, but the other girl is pleasantly stoic. She can tell Peeta wants to laugh, but he's polite enough to hold it in while the flight attendant gives them a rundown of the flight procedures.

"Now, would you like a drink?" Lavinia asks after finishing her spiel. She gives Katniss a quick, understanding look. "Maybe to calm your nerves?"

"None for me, thank you." Peeta turns to Katniss, who hesitates. "But you can have anything you'd like, really. How about a glass of champagne?"

"That would be very nice," she says primly, and he laughs.

"Relax," he encourages her after she has a glass of champagne in her hand. "There's no expectations here. You can be yourself, which is what attracted me to you so much in the first place. How genuine you are. No artifice."

"Art-what?" she asks after she drains her glass. She makes a face. "Sorry, I should've paced myself."

He deftly re-fills her glass with the bottle Lavinia left behind. "Artifice is deceit. Trickery. And you have none of that."

"Considering my job, I'd have to disagree." She meets his blue, blue eyes and finds that it's easier to accept and deliver compliments after a bit of liquid courage. "But thank you, Peeta. You are...you're just remarkably kind."

"I'm glad you think so. It's a nice change of pace, because I'm not known—well, in business, there's very little room for kindness. And for many years now, business has been my life."

"Sounds like you need to relax," she says, tapping her foot with his. "With good company."

"That's why I brought you with me this weekend." His expression grows serious. "I should apologize for going over your head to get you here, especially when you made it clear one night was all I would have. You would've been well within your rights to refuse."

She's amazed when the jet takes off so smoothly that she almost doesn't notice until the flight attendant informs them that they're now cleared to move freely in the cabin. They unbuckle themselves from their individual seats and move to a comfortable couch instead.

"I didn't really have a choice," she finally answers. Katniss rushes to explain when his expression become appalled. "No, not like that. The company can't make us do anything." She can practically see Peeta sheathing his virtual sword after her reassurance. "It's just that you actually saved my job. I was about to be chopped, but my boss changed her mind after you requested me. As long as I agreed to come with you today, of course." She drinks the last of her second glass of champagne and pats his thigh. Her limbs feel pleasantly loose. "Seems you have a pretty powerful name there, Mr. Mellark."

Peeta looks at her hand that still lingers on his leg. "Well." He clears his throat and puts his hand on top of hers, tentative at first, but then he gently flips her hand over and interlocks their fingers. "I'm happy it's useful for something."

She turns her head to smile up at him, and his face is so close that she leans forward and brushes his lips with hers. His lips are just as as she remembers, addictive and soft, and he smells of expensive cologne. She doesn't want to pull back, but when she does, Peeta looks as if his favorite toy has been taken away from him.

"What was that for?"

"I just wanted to."

"Not because I'm paying you?" he asks with wry eyes.

"In the moment, it wasn't," she says, biting her lip. She releases his hand and wipes it on her skirt, trying to take back control of the situation. And her emotions. "But it's why I'm here with you." She searches his face for judgement, or worse, disappointment. She finds nothing of the sort.

"I like your honesty," he says simply, leaning back in his seat. "But this weekend? We don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

"But we've already done...everything. Together." Her eyes flit away from his. "Why wouldn't you expect more?"

"Everything? Not quite." He rubs his mouth like he's hiding a smile. "But even still. It doesn't matter if we've already slept together. Would I like to do it again? Yes. But we'll just play it by ear, see what feels natural...in the moment," Peeta adds, using her words. "Let's aim for natural."

"Okay." She gathers her long, dark hair in her hands and pulls it back into a ponytail with a hair tie around her wrist. Then she pauses. "Wait. Do you mind if I put my hair up?"

He blinks. "Of course not. It's beautiful in any style."

"Just checking. The agency girls say men don't like it pulled back. They want it long and flowing."

"I'm not one to micromanage how you look." Peeta touches her cheek. "You're beautiful no matter what, whether you're perfectly put together or just rolling out of bed. Maybe especially then." His smile turns a touch wicked.

She battles a ridiculous surge of embarrassment and inhales. "Talk to me more about your family and friends. You know, what I should expect this weekend. Things I need to know or say."

He follows her subject change with grace. "Well, they're rich, conservative and not easy to get along with. I'm afraid you're going to earn your money," he says with a touch of humorous regret. "Everyone at this wedding, with the exception of a precious few, will be vicious, disingenuous, and pretentious."

"Sounds like most of the girls I work with."

He laughs. "Something tells me you'll be just fine, Katniss. And at the risk of sounding condescending, just be yourself. You handled my brother perfectly. Won him right over, in fact."

"Really?" she asks, doubt coating the word. "Seemed like he was just a second away from decking me."

"Rye responds to strong personalities—you impressed him because you didn't put up with his nonsense. And I think he's hoping we'll supply some amusement this weekend."

Katniss doesn't like the sound of that, as if they're playing some game. "Amusement? Why?"

"Because no one is expecting me to bring a date, let alone a girlfriend. It's bound to cause a stir."

"Why would they think I'm your girlfriend? I could just be a simple date."

"Oh, Rye's already told our mother, Bran, and god knows who else that I've finally started seeing someone serious enough to introduce to the family," he says. "Never mind the fact that he did the introducing for me. My brother is a troublemaker to the extreme, and loves to make me uncomfortable."

"I think…" She hesitates, because her impression of Rye is different than that of how Peeta is painting him. "I really think he was happy for you. He seemed, I don't know. Relieved? Like he was genuinely glad that you were with someone. And not lonely."

"You have an interesting point of view."

"And you're not being patronizing at all."

He sighs, reaches for champagne bottle and pours himself a glass before refilling hers. "You're right. I'm not trying to be. But I know Rye, and trust me when I say that he's not the warm, brotherly type anymore than Bran is."

"Okay." She looks at him over the rim of her champagne glass. "So, let's discuss the particulars—we need our stories to match. I'm your girlfriend, Katniss. You met me…?"

He smiles. "In an elevator."

She rolls her eyes. "Fine, the truth is easier to maintain. How long have we been together?"

"Hmm." Peeta sips his champagne with a considering look on his face. "A month is sufficient, I think. And since we're casually dating, it'll be believable when don't know every little thing about each other if pressed."

"Right. What's my job? My sister thinks I work for an event planning company, but she asks minimal questions, and since we're going to be around people who throw parties often...well. Seems like a bad idea."

Peeta drums his fingers on his thigh. "Do you have any particular dream job? Because this will be your lie to maintain, not mine, so you might want to make it easy on yourself. Stick with a subject you're comfortable with."

God, she hates talking about her failed dreams. It just reminds her how much she's sacrificed at the expense of having a roof over her head and being able to send Prim to school. While she'd never regret doing everything in her power to support her sister, it still stings that she's largely uneducated with no real marketable skills to speak of.

"I wanted to work with plants," Katniss says. "Botany. But...I don't know enough about the details of that," she adds quickly. "I think I'll just say I'm between jobs. I'd rather everyone assume I'm a gold-digger than see through my lies about being a freaking plant scientist." She looks up at him. "Is that okay with you?"

"Perfectly fine with me. I'm quite proud to have you on my arm, whether people think you're with me for my money or not. That's how most relationships work with the wealthy, anyhow." He plucks her now-empty champagne glass from her fingers and places it on a side table next to his own, where Lavinia discreetly whisks it away a moment later. "Now tell me about you. The little stuff. I enjoyed just talking to you the other night, just as much as the...more intimate things."

"Really." The skepticism in her voice is strong.

When he smiles like that, it lights up his blue eyes. "Almost as much."

"How about you go first?" she says, kicking her shoes off onto the plush carpet of the cabin. Then she scoots back into the buttery leather comfort of the couch and, just because she can, lies down and places her head on Peeta's lap. "I feel pressured."

He looks down at her as if she's some exotic bird that flew onto his shoulder. "All right," he starts slowly, the words a little flustered. He hesitantly touches her hair, his fingers whisper-soft as he plays with the strands.

"That feels so good," she says, her eyelashes fluttering shut. "My mom used to do that when I was a kid—play with my hair. When she was sober, I mean." His fingers stop, and her eyes crack open. "Don't stop," she implores, suddenly exhausted. It must be all of the champagne that's getting to her. And it's so comfortable in his lap...and so very warm...

"I won't," Peeta promises, smoothing a hand over her forehead before returning to her hair. He pets her head with soothing, monotonous strokes.

"Now tell me about yourself. All the little boyfriend things." She curls into a ball and closes her eyes again. "I'll just rest my eyes, okay? But I'm listening."

"Well, let's see. My favorite color is orange."

"Orange?" she asks thickly, already fighting to stay awake.

"Don't judge," he says with a low laugh. His fingers massage her scalp, and Katniss almost purrs with the pleasure of it. "Not bright orange. Soft, like a sunset."

"Mm. That's nice."

"When I have free time from the office, I like to paint. Not many people know that. I sleep with the windows open when the weather allows it. Oh, I hate sugar in my tea. And I always double-knot my shoelaces…"

His voice is deep, and calm, and as much as she struggles against it, it lulls her into the best sleep she's had in recent memory.

Katniss wakes up in a cocoon of warmth. She's no longer on the couch, but instead rolls over in a large, comfortable bed that doesn't seem to belong on an aircraft.

She lifts her head and meets Peeta's eyes, which are obscured by a pair of wire rim glasses. He's reclining against the headboard, and though the television is playing with low sound, he's watching her instead. Something else trickles along with the initial grogginess that comes from a deep sleep—a thread of sharp awareness, running roughshod down her spine.

It's muscle memory, chemistry, or something inside of her that recognizes and remembers what it was like to have this man inside of her. It's that same something that causes her to raise up on her elbows and pull him down on top of her by the collar of his shirt.

"Katniss," he murmurs between long, drugging kisses. He stares down at her with slightly glazed eyes, his glasses askew on his handsome face. "Is this what you want?"

She makes a miffed noise at the loss of the momentum between them, weary of words. Now she craves action.

"You wanted natural." Katniss sits up and slides the straps of her dress down her arms. She cups her breasts and fights the shyness that threatens to overcome the desire that's propelling her into this seduction. "Feels natural to me, Peeta."

He groans, the sound low and needy, and then she lands on her back when he pushes her down onto the mattress. His hands shake as he unbuckles his belt and shoves his pants down to tangle around his legs, both prosthetic and real. Her dress is bunched up around her hips while her panties are tugged the opposite direction.

"Condom," he pants, dropping his forehead to hers. The cold metal of his glasses bites into her warm skin, but she likes how the brief discomfort makes the moment more visceral and frantic and genuine. "Fuck."

She also likes that word on his lips, so much that she dares to say, 'I'm covered. But I understand if you want to…"

That's all it takes for Peeta to surge forward and push his bare cock into her. All of the air leaves her lungs in a rush of sweet, tense pleasure, and her back arches off of the bed.

"You feel so good." His voice is thick with pleasure. "As good as I remember. And I've, oh..." A sharp thrust. "God...thought about you, Katniss. Every hour since you walked away." He shifts in position, and a brief grimace appears in place of his mask of enjoyment.

"Wait. Your leg," she protests weakly, even as her arms wrap tightly around his back to urge him forward again. "Should we—I mean, you probably had to...ohgodthatfeelsgood...carry me in here...ah, oh shit, do that again…."

"It's fine," he grits out. He moves his hips in a way that has her biting her lip so hard she draws blood. "Promise."

"Okay, ah, but—"

"Katniss," he says with a strained but genuine laugh. His strong arms resting on either side of her head as he moves over her, and he peers down at her with intense eyes. "Be quiet."

But she isn't quiet, not one bit, not until he covers her mouth with her hand when she starts screaming so loudly that the flight attendant tentatively knocks on the door, causing them to lose it completely. It's only after Katniss calls out a throaty reassurance and Lavinia has moved away that Peeta finds his rhythm again, and chuckles turn back into tortured groans of their mutual release.

"Where are you going?" he protests when she climbs off the bed a moment later, looking so boyish and sated that she quells the mad urge to kiss his cheeks.

"Bathroom." She pauses in her attempt to set herself back to rights. "Want to come?" She can't help but laugh when he gives her a disturbed look. "Kidding."

"That was fun. Amazing," Peeta says when she returns. His clothes are back in their proper place, and his face glistens with a fine sheen of perspiration, but the pinched, stressed looked around his eyes she'd observed earlier that day had disappeared completely. He pulls her onto the bed again. "I have such a good time with you. I know that sounds simple." He smiles down at her. "Too simple, but...if you knew how much it means to me..."

She chews on her lip and struggles with a response. "Me, too," she finally replies. It sounds lame to her, but a dimple appears on his cheek when hears it.

Peeta drags her to his chest and makes a contented noise in her ear as he settles around her. "We still have an hour or so until landing. How do you feel about a nap? I fear we'll need our energy."

"Love a nap," she murmurs back, ignoring the concerned twinge in the back of her mind. Napping. Something an old married couple does.

But when she fades into sleep, she can't help but think about how good—how natural—it feels to be in Peeta's embrace, and how dangerous thoughts like these are when she's just a temporary, paid companion.

His arm tightens around her. "Stop thinking so hard," he says lowly. "Rest. Relax. Let me take care of you."

So she does. For now.

Sorry it's been so long since I've updated! Forgive me.

Thank you to my beta, Shannon. All mistakes are mine.

Find me on tumble as badnovels if you want to say hello! Thanks for your enduring support and patience.