Katniss checked her work email, and groaned. There was another lengthy article from Gale about the extensive health benefits to eating a plant-based gluten-free diet.
This triggered her bad mood. She had spent night after night fantasizing about thick juicy burgers, pizza, dinner rolls, cakes, and maybe just ONE beer with gluten. Only to wake up to intense pressure from her boyfriend Gale to prepare the healthiest breakfast known to mankind. It tasted like resentment and disappointment.
This was all her co-worker, Peeta's fault. That bastard eats the most amazing, delicious, succulent, carb-filled, mouthwatering juicy meat-ridden lunches.
And I just want him.
IT, I mean I want his lunches.
Katniss went about her work day, sipping her anti-oxidant health infused blah blah blah smoothly that was supposed to give her energy. How about a damn cup of coffee?!
That is IT!
She stood up to find a cup of coffee, just as there was a knock on her door.
There was Peeta. Calmly approaching her. His business casual attire hid his sculpted, fit and solid body. Flaunting all his carnivores ways. I can practically smell the baked goods wafting from him.
That's a bread boy.
"Hey, Katniss? I heard there's a new restaurant that opened up nearby, I'm told they have excellent g-free options. They wanted me to review it. What do you say? Should go check it out?" He asks kindly and sincerely. Blue eyes sparkling. Smile enchanting.
This hunger is clearly going to my head.
"Sure." I answered as I grabbed my purse and headed to lunch with Peeta-bread.
Mmm bread.
She subtly leaned over to give his shoulder a little sniff when Peeta wasn't looking.
Oh my gosh he smells delicious!
Cinnamon rolls and fresh baked bread.
This is dangerous.
We're sitting in the restaurant, I order their "Big Salad" which they claim is sensational with roasted carrots, arugula, avocado and a dressing that is "to die for" they claim.
Peeta orders the house steak.
STEAK.
As he eats a little bit of the juices run down his chin and I stifle a groan.
He wipes his chin and gives a hearty chuckle. I couldn't even look away if I tried.
A wave of heat travels through my body.
As he slowly butters his roll, I'm mesmerized. By the roll. The smattering of butter. Ohhh no that's too much butter. His hands keep buttering, slow and sensual. I want his hands on me.
I didn't even realize I'm leaning into Peeta until I have his collar bunched in my hands.
The air is electric.
I barely make eye contact before crashing my lips to Peeta's.
He kisses me back with vigour. Aggressive, but reverent. His strong arms wrap around my waist and pull me tighter. Ugh, he's so strong.
We're both breathless and pull away just looking at each other slightly shocked at our intensity.
Then I smirk, and before he can say anything, I steal a bit of his steak.
And it's Soooo goood.
Mouthwatering, mind blowing.
A deep moan escapes.
Peeta's eyes grow wide.
I wink and reach for his bread.
4 months later Peeta and I are seated at his Parent's house for the Annual Mellark's Thanksgiving dinner.
Peeta is expected to write a piece about his own family traditions, so we take note of every delectable dish.
The juicy honey ham. The soft flakey Turkey. The warm buttery delicate rolls. Turkey and herb stuffing. The garlic mashed potatoes with an indulgent amount of butter. Peeta's mom's traditional twice baked sweet potato dish with "a secret ingredient" that I will find out from her eventually. The tart cranberry sauce.
I won't even tell you about the pies. They were insane.
Peeta and I can't seem to keep our eyes or hands from wandering after we've finished our pies. We say our goodbyes and hurry home to add our own new tradition to the day.
It was a happy Thanksgiving indeed.
