His hand finds my waist as his lips explore my stomach. I can feel electricity coursing through my veins, igniting my blood as it flows from each nerve. His face, just the tiniest bit scruffy creates a texture, a sensation that rocks my hips to his stomach. His fingers are clinging to my skin as the rain creates a love song against the bedroom window.

"I love you." His voice is saturated in lust and willowy whispers. It's the fifth or sixth time he's said this phrase in the short span of our bedroom tryst.

"Please." I can hear myself begging for the release that I've felt all night; all summer.

I feel his smile embed into my skin. A fading tattoo of how much we really want this.

His head moves up, his lips capturing my nipple. I moan out as my eyes close and my hand finds his damp and curling hair.

"Patience is a virtue." He teases as his mouth moves in a slow trek from one breast to the other.

Fuck. That.

In one swift and decidedly easy move, he's pin to the bed and I'm over him. I feel goose bumps rage across my skin as the cool air of the room wraps around me.

"I want you. I want all of you." I hear my own voice once again; the higher power is saying these things through me. Peeta's eyes turn into a blue inferno at the words. The higher power is obviously more capable than I am.

Oh, hormones, how wonderful you are.

My lips capture his in a kiss that sends a pulse through my body, my hips gently rock against him. Nature is slowly taking over as the hormones and the lust and the heat reign over us.

I'm once again on my back, Peeta kneeling back on the bed, his eyes roaming my body. His chest is smooth from the gray light of the window. He looks bigger, broader. His hair is curled, dangerously close to his eyes as his fingers fumble with a silver wrapped packet. His biceps are stretched, dancing a waltz as his hands move around himself. My minded is slightly fogged as he moves back over me, his lips finding mine in a sweet kiss; a kiss so different from the ones that were shared between us all night.

"You're ok?" I don't hear him the first time. His voice is low, his breath hot against my lips. It's the second time, when he pauses in his actions that I can hear him, that I can truly see him.

"Yes." The higher power has taken over as I feel him at the entrance of my core. My hips move forward, inviting him, teasing him. "I'm ok."

"I love you." It's so low, it's almost a vibration.

I close my eyes, wincing into his neck as I feel him enter me. A tear rolls across my cheek as a shooting pain roars through me.

It takes a minute, two minutes, three minutes (though it feels like a lifetime), but suddenly I'm home. I'm so indisputably home.

"How many of those have you had?" I turn around, cake half way to my mouth, and stare at Jeremy.

He's the same height as me, but broad like Peeta. He was one of the vice presidents sons, and apparently friends with Peeta.

"Two." Five. I stuff the cake into my mouth and try to chew like a lady. Effie is having a mini stroke somewhere. "I thought you and Peeta were going to take with the grown-ups.

Jeremy rolls his eyes, grabbing the last of the pink mini cakes on the tray. This wouldn't bother me so much if it weren't the cake I was eyeing for the last two minutes.

"We were, but they really got into the grown up stuff and it just so happens to have nothing to do with my part of the company. I couldn't handle the technical talk anymore."

I give him a look before sighing. My eyes move around the massive dining/entertaining hall.

We had been at the party for the better part of three hours. I had stayed at Peeta's side and vice versa for the first hour and a half. But, much like Jeremy, I had no really head for business and the technical stuff was enough to make me want to shoot someone.

"Stop eating." Jeremy and I both turned to Peeta.

"Dude, your girl here has packed away like ten cakes." Jeremy gestures to me with his thumb. Peeta looks at me as I shrug.

"They have better food then we do." My argument seems almost invalid.

"Jeremy!" The three of us look up to see Enobaria Tryane, Jeremy's mother, is waving over to us.

"Oh, crap." Jeremy's shoulders slump. "Pray for me."

Peeta gives him a pat on the shoulder, watching for a mere second before turning to the cakes. I watch as Jeremy slinks over to his mother, straightening himself out and then producing a smile that would shame the sun.

"You know, you guys are all very good with these looks and tones and appearances." I state, shoving another cake into my mouth. Seriously, they were really good.

"Well, it's what we're taught from a young age. Rye's actually a lot better than I am appearance wise, but charismatically I out rank him. Mark's a mess all around except when he's arguing with people."

"I would fail miserably in the corporate world." I catch Peeta's eyes.

"That's because you don't realize the effect you have on people." He looks over to where Jeremy is now talking with the CEO, Caesar Flickerman.

"I don't have an effect on anyone."

"You do, though. While you were talking to Caesar and the rest of them, they were captivated. Caesar things you're a real pistol."

That's because of the look I gave his snotty little daughter when she commented on my dress. But I don't say this out loud; I simply nod my head slowly.

Peeta doesn't make further comment, but rather gives me a little smile and a kiss on the head.

"You want to go out on the balcony?"

There's a balcony? What? I've been standing next to the food table for, like, ever, and I could have been out on the balcony? Really?

"There's a balcony?" He laughs and nods his head. "I didn't know."

He grabs my hand and moves me through the crowd of people. I see Jeremy giving us a face for abandoning him. This is swiftly taken care of when his mother pinches him to have him pay attention to whatever is being discussed in their circle.

The air hits me all at once.

New York is different, you know; the air, the noises, the nightlife.

It's like being under water your entire life and for the first time taking a deep breath of fresh air. At least it feels fresh being eighteen stories up.

Peeta lets go of my hand and walks to the thick stone railing of the balcony. He leans forward on his elbows and looks out into the city. There may not be a star in the sky, but the world is lit around us.

I go to lean next to him, admiring the way his smell penetrates the atmosphere. My head leans on his shoulder. We only have a few more days of this.

"We can leave if you want." His cheek finds the top of my head and I feel warm.

"But you have shit to do here." I'm really quite a classy lady. His laugh rumbles over me and I can't help but shift my head, catching his blue eyes.

"Not really. I did all the work on Friday and I've quite a bit of schmoozing here. I think I can easily leave."

"You want to go back to the hotel room?" I move away from him, turning so that my back is against the railing. I try to do a provocative and sexy pose. Only, I don't feel provocative or sexy. I actually feel a little stupid.

Peeta gives me my half smirk. "Not quite yet."

I can feel my face twist in an un-amused look.

He laughs and brushes a strand of hair from my face. "Humor me?"

The park is lit up like a summer wonderland. Fairy lights are strung in the trees, hidden between the lush greens of the season. There are couples walking hand in hand, teenagers kissing in the grass, little old people smiling and practically skipping while enjoying the small breeze that carries the scent of lake and the blossoms.

Boggs is somewhere behind us. He's remaining unnoticed, though I have caught him once or twice in the span of the hour.

The sky is an unruly navy blue, with gray clouds drifting wordlessly, curtaining the stars. Though, as I mentioned before, the stars are never very noticeable in New York.

"I'll write every day." His voice cuts across my thoughts.

We had been going back and forth with the conversation of him being away at school.

And to be quite honest I wasn't paying attention. I didn't want to think about him returning to New York on Friday. I didn't want to feel the effects of him leaving me.

"And I'll visit every weekend." His hand squeezes mine.

A couple, old and tiny, walked past us. It was two little old women, holding hands and giggling, kissing each other's cheeks. My lips turned up and I looked at Peeta, his eyes were on them, happy and shining.

"Think we'll be as happy as them one day?" His voice was dreamy; as if he wasn't sure he was even talking aloud.

"What if you meet someone else?" I have a funny way of ruining things.

Peeta sighs and rolls his neck. He had taken his jacket off when we entered the park. It was draped across his arm. His shirt stretched, just slightly, over his chest. His hair had become slightly undone from the neat brushing. My fingers darted, separating the strands that so desperately wanted to curl.

"I love you, Katniss. There has never been, nor will there ever be, someone else." I give him a look. "After everything we've been through this summer alone, how can you doubt that?"

Because I'm Katniss. The straw that will break the camel's back is surely on its way.

"I'm just trying to be realistic." It helps me for when I end up in a closet, or the pantry, or the service elevator. It makes it easier for Cato and Haymitch to somewhat reason with me.

"Ok." There's defeat in his voice. "I'm not going to argue with you because I want our last days together untouched."

I may be realistic, but he's a surrealist.

Actually, we're both hot little messes.

"It's really beautiful here." I look at him and then around the park. "When I was ten my dad brought me on a business trip with him. We came to the park at about five in the afternoon, playing soccer, having races, just hanging out. We didn't leave until two o'clock in the morning."

"Your dad is pretty extraordinary." It's my turn to squeeze his hand.

"He always said he was so happy they had me. He knew, the moment I was born, I was different. I was his son. Mark and Rye are so much like our mother; he said that a piece of him would finally be left behind."

"I don't think Mark and Rye are like your mother." The crazy old banshee that she was.

Peeta chuckles. "They really are though. They can get ridiculously judgmental and cruel when pushed to their limits. They're not as fast as reaching their limits as she is, at least not anymore. But you can see her in them. When we're discussing certain things, though they hate agreeing with her on anything, you can tell that they do. Mark was her spitting image when he found out about the private investigator. Sure, he used his evil ways back on her, but it was like watching her twin."

"How can you deal with it? The constant put downs?"

"She's my mother." Peeta gives me a tired stare. "Don't get me wrong, I can count how many times she's been an actual mother to me on a few fingers, but, she is who she is."

"So there are motherly moments!" He laughs and nods his head.

"My dad was the real parent figure; he took us on camping trips, played softball with us, the whole kit and caboodle. My mom," he sighed, his eyes screwing up a bit.

"I was nine. It was after everything had happened with you and the dog and all that drama. It was right after the summer, the first one where you hadn't come to Carriage Point.

"I was playing outside with Rye for hours. Which I wasn't supposed to do because of the muscles in my leg. When my mother came out to get us, Portia being on vacation that week and dad being at the country club with the guys, she saw that my leg was a deep red. She had rushed me into the tub, the doctor on the phone, her eyes tearing up, and kept telling me I would be ok. I didn't even notice how much my leg hurt until I stopped moving on it.

"She got the swelling down, made sure it was clean, placed my foot on a pillow and then sang to me. It was the only way to get me to fall asleep when I was little, even before the nightmares." There's a smile on his face that I've never seen before. It's small and hopeful; I'd go as far as to say it's almost enchanted. "She had never sung to me before. Just my dad and Portia. She didn't have the greatest voice or anything, but you could tell, even at the age of nine, she was trying."

"I would have never guessed your mom knew lullabies." I say it without thinking and immediately I'm reprimanding myself. Peeta laughs.

"It was an old song, a song from before she was even born. It was pretty though, and I fell asleep. I woke up the next morning cocooned in her arms. I had never slept with my parents before; she didn't allow us in their bed. Usually when we got scared we went into Mark's room." His eyes are casted forward, living in memories.

"How did the song go?"

"Um, I don't really remember. Something with a meadow and a place where she loved me." Peeta shrugged. "It was a long time ago, and it was the only time I had ever heard the song."

I stare at him for a moment as a flashback of my father rocking Prim when she was sick with fever and singing a similar song. I shake my head.

"You are a lot like your dad. But maybe, you can think of it, also, that all your mom's sweet moments went into you, which is why you are the way you are." He nods his head, loosening his hand from mine and swinging it across my shoulders.

"That's a sweet notion."

"I try." I snuggle into him. "I like this."

"What?"

"Just us talking." His lips found the top of my head.

"I like it too." I go to open my mouth only to pause as I feel water on my back. Peeta looks up, forcing my eyes to swivel to the sky which is no longer navy but rather a dark gray.

"What is it with rain and us?" I ask, my temper flaring just slightly. Peeta grabs my hand and starts running towards the entrance of the park, just as the rain begins to pour down on us.

Did he honestly think we were going to out run a storm?

"It's freezing!" We were drenched. I felt my hair coming undone from the curls, slowly dripping down my head. My dress was clinging to me like a second skin. The air in the room had been left on, creating an icy welcome.

Peeta was laughing behind me as he threw his jacket on the floor. "My shirt is see through."

I turned around and couldn't help but laugh a little. His white shirt clung to his chest. His slightly pink/tanned skin was visible against the white material that was now sheer.

"I like it." My hand moves to lie on his chest. Despite his soaked shirt and the cold of the room, his warmth penetrates across my hand, my arm, my veins. I lean up and kiss him, trying to deepen it without a second thought. He pulls away, his eyes cloudy and half lid.

"Come here." His voice is low.

"Where?"

My half smirk lights up his face and before I know what's going on we're in our room. I'm facing the bed and his hands are moving over my shoulders, up my neck, and into my hair. In one small tumble I feel the weight of the damp curls fall down my back.

His fingers are leaving electrical sparks across my skin.

"I love you." His breath dances across my ear. "I love everything about you. Thank you, so much for coming with me this weekend. Thank you for being here with me." I close my eyes as his fingers move over my dress. I hear the zipper being pulled down. "I won't do anything you don't want me too."

The dress hits the floor and a rush of cold wraps around my body. My bra and panties were just as wet. I spin around and face him. Our eyes meet as his hands sit on my hips.

"There's nothing I don't want you to do to me." A blue flame explodes across his irises. "I promise."

My fingers move to his damp shirt and I clumsily unbutton it. He doesn't make a move, his hands patiently sitting. After the last button I move to his pants. It's painfully obvious the mental state he's in. It's even more painful as his pants drop, the white of his boxers transparent.

"Whoa." I mentally slap myself as Peeta lets out a small laugh.

"Whoa is about right." He murmurs. He moves his hands off my hips and takes off his shirt. He gently coaxes me onto the bed.

It's just as cold as the air around us, but his warmth spreads quickly around us.

I feel my bra disappear, his hands so warm and so complete over my skin. The way his fingers are moving, I almost feel like he's painting my body.

My fingers move around the waist band of his boxers. To feel him against my thighs is almost deafening emotionally. It's so great I whimper in disappointment when he lifts his hips to remove my panties.

However all makes sense with the world when he lays back over me in sweet surrender.

I feel him shift as his lips begin to leave kisses across my lips, my cheeks, and my neck. He sucks gently at the nook, driving my senses crazy. I whimper, rocking my hips to him, scratching at his back as his lips graze my breast, moving down to my stomach.

All senses leave me as his fingers graze my core, teasing me.

"Peeta." It's like a prayer.

I arch into his hand, my eyes flying open to stare at him, his blue eyes on me, watching my reaction.

"You ok?" It's breathless, patient.

"I'm ok. I'm just," I moan as his fingers twist and move inside of me, causing my body to feel things it never felt before. Things it had only imagine. "Faster."

Some higher power, a power I didn't know existed, has taken over. This power knows things I don't know. It knows my body and what my body wants.

Peeta does not question. He does not say anything. His fingers move with a sense of knowledge that I'm pretty sure I didn't think he had. His lips trail kisses, his tongue leaving sparks against my skin.

My body is taking matters into its own hands. I have no control of my hips or my hands holding his shoulders, his head. I have no control over the moans escaping my lips or the way his name sounds like white flags of surrender. There is no control as my eyes close tightly and I give in to this feeling of wonderment and excitement.

Ecstasy, right?

My breath takes seconds to find a balance, and I feel his weight around me. His body moves once again on top of my. I never want him to leave. I never want this feeling to end.

I feel like I'm almost home.

His hand finds my waist as his lips explore my stomach. I can feel electricity coursing through my veins, igniting my blood as it flows from each nerve.

August 19th, 2012; Sunday (3:00AM)

I feel cocooned. His arms are wrapped around me, his eyes, though heavy lidded, are watching me from under his long lashes.

"What happens now?" My throat is rough, transforming my words into a state of grogginess.

"You sleep." He teases, his voice saturated in bliss and tiredness.

"What if I just want to watch you sleep?" Did I really just say that out loud?

"Then watch me sleep. It'll be difficult. I'm not falling asleep until you do."

"You're so corny." I move closer to him, my ear pressed against his chest, listening to the sweet song of his heartbeat.

"I'm ok with that." I roll my eyes at him, though I'm sure he can't see me.

"Peeta?" I feel the sand man slowly cradling me to sleep.

"Mm?" His heart is singing of magic and wishes, lulling my eyes closed.

"Thank you." His lips gently touch my head and I can't help but try to move even closer to him. "I love you, too."

Just as I my body gives its last failed attempt of staying up, I feel him smile into my hair.