He runs his fingertips along the spans of her back from her perfect ass to the nape of her neck, both some of his favorite parts on her. Not that they all aren't. She gives a soft giggle, shivering. The tickling sensation combined with the cool air kissing her flesh.

He gives a soft groan when she looks at him over her shoulder, tossing her hair back in the process. He loves it when she looks at him like this. She has the come-hither look down pat. And sadly, when she beckons he comes. He gives a soft chuckle, realizing that it's usually both figurative and literal.

He touches the silky blonde locks, running his fingers through them. More evidence that she's real. Here. In his bed. In his life. The latter was enough for him to believe. The former makes him want to shout those beliefs from the rooftops some days. Except no one would understand her being here. With him. In his bed.

She shouldn't be. He knows this, as does she. It hasn't stopped them. He's sure Nathan knows, believes their mother suspects. Neither has said anything and if they haven't by now they probably won't. Perhaps believing after everything Peter went through he deserves something. He deserves this. Something good.

And Claire is good. His eyes travel the path his fingertips just finished in reverse, nape to ass. God he loves the feel of her skin. The heat radiating from her, especially fresh from the sex they shouldn't be having. He'd been afraid to touch her at first. She was pure, everything he wasn't and more.

She'd been quite convincing, as a girl is wont to do when she set her mind to something he'd come to discover. And Claire Bennet had set her mind on him. Not that he complains about that. Ever. Not then, not now, not tomorrow, not from his grave.

He leans over to kiss one of her shoulders, rubbing his cheek against her hair and takes in her scent. Shampoo, perfume, and Claire. She's so soft. It's not just her hair he could luxuriate in. He could touch and kiss her all day and never tire of it. Which proves it's not just about the sex. Though the sex is good. Stupendous. Best ever.

He wonders if the sex is as good as it is because it's forbidden. Sinful. Lecherous…

She groans softly and presses against him as his hand rubs one of her ass cheeks, letting him know she's not done yet. The very idea that she wants him again scatters his thoughts - and with them his doubts - into the wind.

~The End~

Story ©Susan Matthews/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com