Defying the Odds (The 4th Quarter Quell) [The Hunger Games Fanfiction]

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Layla

The first thing I see when I open my eyes are Asher’s own, blazing into mine with some sort of passion that I can’t describe. He is looking at me so warmly, giving me a taste of security and comfort. His arms wrapped around me only add to that security.

“Morning, my love,” he whispers, his voice sending shivers down my body. My head is on his bare chest and our arms are wrapped around each other. I don’t think I’ve ever slept this well. The sun has just risen in the sky, and the pinks and oranges in the clouds are all swirling against the sun.

“Morning, Lumberjack,” I respond, and a smile spreads onto his lips. I tuck my head back into his chest and close my eyes for a few seconds and pray that he will still be here when I open my eyes. I pray that we will be away from here, away from the Capitol.

My eyes open and I sigh as he plants a kiss on my head.

“It’s today, isn’t it?” I ask, my voice growing smaller and smaller.

“Yes,” Asher says, tightening his hold on me.

“We’ll make it through together,” I assure him.

“God, I hope you’re right.” He begins to play with the fabric of my shirt – his shirt – and occasionally brushes his fingers against my stomach, exposed from the tank top that has somehow ridden up to just above my belly button. I hold in a breath every time his fingers touch me, and he seems to understand why after a while.

“Are you ticklish?”

“No,” I whisper, frozen in his arms.

“You are ticklish,” he concludes, and I glance up at him to see the mischievous look growing in his eyes.

“No,” I repeat. His hands attack my stomach, and I am suddenly up on my feet running away from him. His legs are longer than mine though, and he is next to me in seconds. I reach the wall, and turn around. There is nowhere to run, so instead I brace myself for the attack.

“Stop!” I shriek as soon as his fingers grab at my stomach. He doesn’t stop tickling my stomach, and soon there are tears from laughter streaking down my cheeks.

“Oh my god,” I say breathlessly as his fingers leave my stomach and his arms wrap around my waist. “Asher, you’re killing me.”

He backs me up into the wall and closes his eyes. I wait for him to do something, but he seems so content with holding me in his arms. I don’t complain; his arms are sending shockwaves of amazing bliss through my veins.

“Asher?” I ask him curiously. He sucks in a breath as I say his name. His head moves next to mine and I turn to move my lips to his ear.

“Asher,” I whisper, watching his heartbeat speed up. “Asher, I love you.”

He looks so calm and serene as I continue to whisper my words of love in his ear. After about a minute of me repeating it, he begins to whisper it back.

“I love you,” he finally says, darkly and lustfully. My hands, once at my side, now slip beside his unbuttoned shirt and snake around to his back.

“I love you,” I say. He moves his head and our lips brush against each other. It doesn’t pass my mind how horrible my breath could smell, or how tousled my hair could be. All I can think about is Asher’s lips against my own.

His lips press to mine, and a gasp immediately escapes my lips. Every touch from him sends me into an explosion of excitement and pleasure. Love, I tell myself, this is what love is.