A/N - The chapters are getting longer as I connect these two more. I'm writing when I can, kind of ignoring the other two stories I started before this one. Enjoy and as always, the characters don't belong to me.

KPOV

Christian smiles when I tell him this. He holds his hand out, "Let's get out of here, eat something maybe?"

I nod and hop off of the bed, finding my underwear as he hands me the robe I had on the night before. I wrap it around myself, tying a knot around my waist. Before I get to it, Christian pulls my hair out from underneath the robe and fans it out on my shoulders. He has his pants and shirt back on. Why does he get to put on all of his clothes and I have to walk around in just this flimsy thing? It's a nice flimsy thing, but still.

I feel younger, happier, when he grabs my hand and pulls me from the room, locking the door behind us and almost running down the stairs. Mrs. Jones is in the kitchen, getting dinner ready from the smells wafting through the living room.

As she sees us make our way into the kitchen, she smiles, stops cutting the vegetables she was working on and pulls a small plate from the refrigerator. "Here you two; a light snack before dinner, it won't be ready for awhile yet."

Christian takes the tray, two glasses and a bottle of wine into the living room, setting them down on the table. "We'll eat over here, which I almost never do. But at least we can be more comfortable until dinner is ready."

"Okay," I answer, snagging a piece of cheese. I recognize it as goat cheese and smile.

He looks over at me, handing me my glass of a white wine. "What?"

I shake my head, "Nothing, my sister had a goat named Lady. She would make cheese from her when she could."

He nods, now understanding. "So, I take it you like goat cheese then?"

"Oh yes, especially with fresh bread. That was a treat any time in our home. An extravagant treat at that." I say, leaning into the big leather pillows. Never in a million years would I have thought that I'd be sitting on a leather couch in a silk robe.

I eat some more cheese and some of the fruit, sipping on the wine slowly. I can feel my eyes getting heavier as I continue to relax. Christian is quiet, just watching me as I watch the sky changing colors through the big window. He pulls me out of my daze when he asks, "Are you sleepy? You can take a nap before dinner, or we can eat later."

"Mmmhmmm." I'm more tired than I thought and he takes the glass away from me.

Without even trying, he lifts me up and calls over his shoulder. "Mrs. Jones, I think we're going to take a nap. Leave our dinner out if we aren't up when it's done."

"Of course, Mr. Grey." I hear her say back and she continues doing whatever it is she's doing.

I lay my head against his shoulder as he carries me up the stairs. I mumble out, "I didn't think I was so tired, but I guess it's been a busy day."

"It's fine, Sweetie. Besides, you'll need some energy for later." He tells me, practically a guarantee of more skin on skin action.

I feel his lips on the top of my head and as we enter his room. He lays me down and I snuggle into the fluffy comforter and plush pillow. I barely register the clothes hitting the floor before I feel him climb in next to me. He wraps his arm around my waist, halting my wiggling and pulling me flush against his naked body. I'm too hot in seconds and crawl out from his grasp to get the robe off.

"Why are you so hot?" I ask, climbing back in, facing him.

He smirks and I know he thinks I'm asking about his looks, not his temperature. "Let me rephrase that. Why do I feel like I'm caught in a heat wave when you hold me?"

Christian's smirk turns into a full grin. "There could be a few different answers to that, Sweetie."

I hit him lightly on the chest and then put my head on it, my ear right over his strong heartbeat. He puts his hand over mine and squeezes. It doesn't take me any time at all to fall asleep to the rhythm of his pulse.

Xxxxxx

When I wake up, I feel relaxed, refreshed, and alone. I roll over, stretching and realize that Christian isn't in the bed at all. I get up, going to the bathroom to relieve myself and pull some clothes on. Nothing as fancy as the robe, but it should do well enough for dinner. When I open the door to the bedroom, I hear piano music and know that it isn't from any radio. So, he plays the piano too. I wonder how he learned that.

I walk down to the living room and stand by the couch, watching him from behind. His muscles contracting as his hands and fingers move easily over the white and black keys. It's a slow melody, sad, but pretty. It's something one would expect at that thing they call an opera. Of course I've never been to one, but we read about them and saw pictures in school. Such elaborate costumes and make-up. I wonder if that's why the people of the Capitol dress the way they do. I get a little bit closer to him, sitting on the side of the couch closest to him. Being a leather sofa, it makes a noise as I sit and Christian turns his head, never stopping his fingers though.

"You can come sit on the bench next to me if you like." He says, changing into a more uplifting melody. It makes me smile that he is talented enough to switch like that.

I'm enjoying watching him though from where I'm at and decide that I'll stand behind him instead, maybe rub his shoulders. I wonder if that will mess him up though too. I carefully put my hands on his back, running them up to his shoulder blades. He doesn't stop playing, doesn't even falter on a single note as my fingers work their way into his hair. It's only when I tug on it gently, that he finally messes up. I guess I wanted his fingers on me, not the piano after all. He turns his head towards me and I give him a deep kiss, surprising him I think as I keep tugging on his bronze hair.

I finally release him and he blinks a few times, unclouding his eyes that have turned a deep grey. I take a deep breath in as he swings his long legs from around the bench. In a hoarse voice, he asks, "Did you have a nice nap?"

I wrap my arms around his neck as his wind around my waist and he pulls me close. I talk into his hair, "Yes, I did. How come you weren't with me when I woke up?"

"I usually have problems with sleep. Are you hungry? Mrs. Jones left a wonderful dinner for us in the kitchen." He notifies me, standing up so that my arms fall around his arms instead. "A pot roast with all kinds of vegetables and potatoes. And I think she made dessert too."

I take a in a whiff, my nose towards the kitchen, whatever Mrs. Jones made smells mouthwatering. At that moment, it's more my stomach than my brain that tells me I should let him go. "Yes, please. It smells great. Does she know how to make everything?"

He shrugs, "I think so. I'm not a picky eater which is easier for her since I'll eat just about everything."

I almost doubt that since he grew up here. I wonder absently out loud, "Yeah, but you've probably never had dog."

"What? Of course not. You've eaten dog before?" He asks pulling my chair out and pushing it under once I'm seated.

I close my eyes and squint one open. "I didn't mean to say that aloud. Yes, I've eaten dog before. Greasy Sae would make a stew out of anything. I just pretended it was something exotic to make it not seem so bad. Actually, her stews were always pretty good; at least I had something to eat."

He nods and starts to put some meat and vegetables on my plate. "Well, then, I'm glad you had it. When was the last time you hunted?"

"Uhh, about a week ago, I think. I shot down a big buck; luckily Johanna was with me and helped me bring it in." I smile, reminded of the faces she kept making as I was gutting the thing. Tough Johanna, who has killed before, couldn't stand doing that. "I only kept a little bit of it since I knew I'd be leaving soon."

Christian has just put a forkful of food in his mouth, so he only nods. Once he's chewed and swallowed, he asks me, "So, the rest you give to this Greasy Sae?"

"Yep, she is the best person to give it to since everyone will go to her for food anyway. I provide the meats and sometimes different plants, and I get to trade with other vendors in our new version of the Hob." I tell him as I start eating. Oh, yes, Mrs. Jones can cook and cook very well. The pot roast practically melts in my mouth and the mashed potatoes are light and fluffy. I'd never had potatoes that weren't chunky in some form.

"What's the Hob?" Even Christian seems enthralled by our dinner, as he never seems to be without an empty fork.

I swallow, following it down with some water. "It was a rundown warehouse of sorts that people used to trade in. I learned when I went with my father who liked what meats to be caught and what would get us a better price. After he died and I had figured out how to hunt well on my own, I went there myself."

He nods again. "You were only twelve?"

"Yeah, but I learned a lot in a short amount of time. I'm glad when I hunt now, it's not because I have to, but because I like to." I'm almost done with my plate of food and am about to ask for more, when I remember that he said something about a dessert. I just know that we'll be doing something more active later on and wouldn't want to get sick from eating too much.

As if he can tell what I'm thinking, Christian gets up from his chair and goes to the counter where a covered plate is waiting to be revealed. He takes the top off of it and there's a chocolate cake underneath. It's as if Mrs. Jones knew that was my favorite. Peeta made one that had almonds slivered on top the already chocolate frosted chocolate cake. It was a small piece of wonderful every time he made it for me.

"Wow, she hasn't made a cake in awhile, she must like you." Christian tells me, a wide smile on his handsome face. His eyes are alight with happiness and not to be full of myself, but I'm hoping it's because of me.

"Well, I'm done with my dinner, so can we dig into that?" I ask, pushing my very empty plate away.

He goes into a drawer, pulling out a long knife to cut the cake with and small plates from a cabinet. I take our empty plates to the sink and then look in each cabinet for small glasses. I can't have chocolate cake without some kind of milk. I find what I need and take a jug of milk from the refrigerator. "Do you want milk with you cake?"

"Sounds good. Are you sure you want milk, there is a great wine to go with chocolate." He suggests.

I shrug and put the milk away. "I'll try it, but if I don't like it, I'm having milk."

He laughs and after putting the small plates on the table, goes to a smaller refrigerator and pulls a bottle out. It hasn't even been opened yet and I watch him as he uncorks it. He pours a tiny amount into a glass and hands it to me. "Swirl it, it needs to breathe."

I do as he says but first take a bite of my cake. Yep, Mrs. Jones makes a great chocolate cake too. I wonder if her parents were cooks or bakers or perhaps both. I take a sip of the wine. Of course Christian is right, the wine is delicious with the cake. I wonder how he knows how to pair these things up. It must have been his parents.

I eat my cake quietly, savoring every bite and enjoying every sip of wine. Christian doesn't say anything until I scrape the last bit of frosting off of my plate. With yet another smile on his face, he asks, "Did you like that?"

I rub my full belly and reply, "Yeah, yeah I did."

He laughs at me, but takes our plates and empty wine glasses to the sink. I get up, going to the sink, turning on the water when he stops me. "Mrs. Jones will do it. We can go relax, maybe take a bath?"

"Hmmm, how about a shower instead. I'm curious about all those different spouts you have in there." I reply back, following him to his room.

Christian laughs again. "Doesn't your house have options in the bath?"

"Not like that, it doesn't. Besides, there's always more to everything in the Capitol." I inform him, from experience.

He nods, "Yeah, I guess so. I've traveled to other districts, but haven't really stayed overnight in them. Not in the last few years especially. I used to go to different areas in my helicopter…"

"Helicopter? What's a helicopter?" I've never even heard the word, not that I can remember anyway.

As we enter his room, I see that some time while we were eating, Mrs. Jones has been in, because the bed is made up again. I never saw her and wonder where she stays. Christian heads straight into the bathroom, turning the water on, playing with the handles to get the temperature just right.

"That's right, you've only ridden in a hovercraft. A helicopter is a much smaller aircraft. I'll have to show you sometime." He tells me as we get undressed. "I found it in a book when I was younger and became fascinated by it. When I started making my own money, I hired an engineer to build me one based on plans that I found. I believe you know him, a man called Beetee?"

"But I thought Beetee only did the wires and electricity, stuff like that?" I question right back, stepping into the shower before Christian.

"Well, yes, he did all the wiring; a few other people actually built the helicopter. Beetee is a nice man, a smart man. He added a few extras to the original plan that I had given him. He may actually be there tomorrow night at the business dinner." He tells me as he steps in behind me.

I instantly press one of the buttons on the wall and water comes shooting out straight into my face. I hit it again hard, fighting the water, hearing Christian laughing at me some more. My elbow goes back and makes contact with his stomach and I smile at the grunt he lets out. He doesn't let that slide though and grabs my shoulders, spinning me around and kissing me harder than I've ever been kissed in my life.