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An arm was spread across her bare waist, a hand curled against her stomach, seeking warmth from the cold room. Her hair fell in tangles, far from the beautiful style Effie had created hours ago. The room was dark, the bed sheets wrapped around the lower half of their torsos, sending goosebumps to flourish across her skin.
His naked chest pressed firmly into her back, allowing her to feel every dip and curve of his body. She didn't mind it, she didn't mind anything when it involved him, truthfully. She just wanted to soak in the peaceful moment, feeling the soft breaths escaping him flutter against her shoulder, and the overwhelming feeling of finally being someone's last.
She thought back to her Games, the sudden death of her family and the boy she had loved unconditionally until death had them part, and to the abandonment Snow had put her through for years. She felt strong, powerful even, seeing how far she had come. She had done the one thing Snow feared; she had fallen in love. And to many, love was a dangerous and powerful thing that she wielded like a sword.
A small peck of a kiss brushed against the base of her throat, a gentle action that made her shudder involuntarily. Finnick smirked against her. Greyson felt his lips near the shell of her ear. "You should be sleeping, Grey," he murmured, his voice thick from a deep sleep.
Greyson stared at the wall across from them, where their dresser was. On the floor, her gown was crumpled in a heap of white, mixed with his suit jacket and pants. Everything else was strewn across the room, submerged in darkness.
"So should you," she said back, countering him with a tiny smile itching at the corners of her lips.
Finnick rolled her toward him, so she could meet his ocean-green eyes. His hand rested on her back, low enough to make her shiver and her body to lean into his intoxicating touch. He stared at her, trying to decipher what was going on in that head of hers. "What are you thinking about?" He pondered.
Greyson leaned her head on the pillow, gazing up at him. "Everything."
He smiled, noticing the playful glint in her eyes. He ran his hand up her side to gently cup her jaw, brushing his thumb over her cheek endearingly. "That's a lot to think about this late at night," he mused. "How are you?" He asked, his voice carrying a slight weight to it.
Greyson's mind flickered back to the loving caresses, the passionate and rough kisses, the painfully euphoric feeling. She could still feel him, everywhere and all at once in a beautiful, yet raw way. "Fine, I think," Greyson cut herself short, a devious smirk slithering its way into her face, "but you could always help make the pain go away."
