I sleep for about three or four hours, and when I wake up, it is still dark out. I look at the digital clock on the nightstand across from us. 5:15. Groaning, I glance down at the beautiful girl I had forgotten was sleeping in my arms. Soon, we'll have to return to our normal lives and pretend like none of this ever happened. Now that I know that Bree's alive, I can't imagine my life without her. I prop myself on one elbow and watch her sleep until she awakens, wide-eyed and frightened.

She looks around wildly and grips one hand onto the bed sheet and one onto my arm, digging her nails into my skin. "Peeta!"

"Bree! It's okay! I'm here!"

Immediately, she loosens her death-grip from my forearm and rests her head against my chest. "I had the most horrible dream. I dreamt that President Snow sliced you in half and set you alight."

I can't lie—a small gasp of shock comes from my mouth. "Why did he do that?"

"He said it was because you weren't supposed to live…"

I reflect upon this, breathe deeply for a long minute, and then intertwine my fingers with hers. "Well, let's both be glad it wasn't real. I'm right here, honey."

Bree looks up at me to meet my eyes, as I am still propped up on one elbow. "I know. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being here. For being alive. For being with me," she whispers.

"Oh, Bree," I start, lowering my eyelids. She stares at me expectantly, so I decide to finish my statement. "You know that for as long as we are both alive, I'll be here for you."

She shakes her head. "I don't deserve you. No one really does. You're so perfectly kind, sweet, and good. You're good to everyone, even if they aren't good to you."

I consider this, and come to the conclusion that she's right. I was good to Katniss when she didn't even know me. I was good to my family when they always expressed their distaste for having me around, like I was some sort of disposable burden. I was good to Bree when she threw me over for Marvel. I am good to everyone. But then again, Bree is pretty special too.

I tap her shoulder lightly. "Bree, you underestimate what you can do to people."

"What are you talking about? And don't just give me the generic 'you're beautiful' shit," she snaps, shaking my hand off of her shoulder.

"Well, you're so quick-witted that it's basically hard to keep up with you. You outsmart even me in a conversation, and you speak with such eloquence and poise that it's hard to believe you're not the daughter of some great politician. Or even Snow himself," I say, joking on that last bit.

"You're lying."

"Nope. Go back and watch the interviews from the Games."

"Well, no one has ever complemented me on my wit before. All people ever see about me is my beauty or my hair. That's it. Isn't that pitiful?" she asks flatly.

"Yeah, it is. Be glad I'm not so shallow." A grin finds its way across my lips.

Bree closes her eyes and laughs lightly. "Yep, I'm glad."

Muteness overcomes us. Her presence mollifies the pain from the Games that I relive almost every night; the pain of being without Katniss. Last night was the first time in four months that I had slept without a nightmare. I don't want this moment to end, because when it does, I'll be nothing but a barren and painful reminder of what I had been when I was with Bree. Maybe it's a little too much for me to hope that things could be different, that I wouldn't have to worry about her safety when we are together or that I wouldn't still deeply care about Katniss.

Bree clears her throat. "I should probably leave," she starts, heavily-lashed eyelids drooping.

"No," I plead. "Stay."

This brings her gaze back up to me, and as I look into those milky-sweet brown eyes I know that there's nothing else I want than for her to stay here, with me, forever. She stutters. "I want…I mean, I should…"

I look her squarely in the eyes, answering her protest with a long, lingering kiss on her lips. Her eyes are wide at first, but then she melts into me. I become more aware of everything, relishing the soft touch of her full, soft, pink lips against mine. She laces her hands together at the nape of my neck and I wrap my own around her waist as we lie on the ever-softening bed.

Bree moves her lips against mine, moaning, "Peeta…"

I breathe heavily as she slides a warm, slim hand onto my bare pectoral. The skin on my entire body becomes prickly as a warm, intense longing fills me all the way down to the bone. I have become so lonely that I've forgotten what a real human touch feels like.

"Don't stop," I whisper, aching with desire. This sensuous, carnal being I am quickly becoming is not something I would've ever imagined myself as. I mean, sure, there were nights I spent alone where I found a way to be…well, un-lonely by myself, but this is so much more real, so much more human. So much better.

She kisses my chest first, lovingly and softly. Second by second, though, her kisses increase in intensity. I almost lose it when she rolls on top of me, kissing me down the path of blond hair leading from my navel to my groin. Scratch that, I lose it when she slides off my pajama pants and teases me by lightly tracing her fingers horizontally across my boxers.

Hungrily, I position myself on top of her and remove the thin white t-shirt from her body, examining the same lacy black bra that she wore in the Games. I wonder if she did this on purpose, just to tempt me, or if it were an uncanny coincidence. Either way, I basically rip the thing off of her body to expose the round, pert breasts hiding underneath it. She shudders in delight as I kiss slowly down the middle of her cleavage.

"God, Peeta," she breathes. "You're amazing. Where on Earth did you learn this?"

I continue to kiss her everywhere. "Shh…"

My fingers slide just underneath her underwear when the door is slammed open and my twin brothers Adric and Hetcher storm in. Bree lets out a yelp and covers herself with the sheet.

Adric's mouth drops open. "Shit, Peets! Didn't know we were interrupting something here!"

Hetcher stares lustfully at Bree, eyes burning right through the thin sheet that fails to conceal all of her chest. "Who's this…gorgeous lady? You know I have a thing for redheads," he says, winking at me.

I am livid that they have interrupted possibly my only chance of really being with her. "Go away, both of you!"

One of them—I'm not sure which, because they look so much alike that it's hard to tell which is which—hollers, "I'm gonna tell Mom!"

"Don't tell Mom, okay? I'll…We'll stop," I assure them frantically.

This seems to have satisfied them, because they shrug their shoulders simultaneously and leave out of the room as abruptly as they had come.

An exasperated sigh comes from my throat I flop face-first on the bed. I relax when I feel Bree's smooth, now completely naked body pressed belly-down on top of my bare back.

"I saw you painting from the window last night," she begins in a sultry voice. "Do you mind showing me what it is?"

I shake my head furiously, the sheets rubbing against the shadowy stubble on my cheek. "I don't really want you to see it, it's kind of terrible." Which is somewhat true. Almost all of my paintings are about the Hunger Games, mostly because it helps me to sleep a little bit easier at night by releasing those memories onto canvas.

Her face is pressed over my shoulder now, mouth grazing against my ear. "Please?"

I can't say no to her, especially when she uses that voice in this context. "Fine," I mutter to the sheets. "But get some clothes on…even though I don't want you to..."

She gets off of my back and jumps around in childish joy. "Yay!"

When will I ever learn how to resist this girl?