A/N: Hey all! Sorry I was MIA last week. I had a big theatre festival last weekend and I came down with a flu, and am now presently working my way through a horrible cold. But alas, no excuses. This is one more chapter of fluff for our little love birds before the angst begins. Sorry, but it needs to happen!
Katniss POV
I can Peeta having to hold back a chuckle at the incredulous look that is probably on my face. I close my mouth as I watch Peeta take a step closer, a grin ebbing on the corners of his lips as he reaches his arm out, resting his hand on my forearm and giving it a soft squeeze. It's hard to deny the jolt of electricity I feel from his touch that shoots up my viens and makes my pulse quicken and my mouth go dry.
"I didn't think you would actually take that seriously," I breathe, still a little startled.
The smile doesn't dissipate from Peeta's mouth as he moves closer, bringing up his free hand to tuck a loose stand of hair behind my ear, the thumb of his other hand rubbing soothing circles into my arm.
"Of course I would, Katniss. A deal's a deal. I wouldn't lie to you, now would I?" he retorts. I can hear the blatant honesty in his voice and I can't help but smile back – his breathtaking grin has always been contagious.
"No, I guess not. I wouldn't want you to break your promise," I say.
I now notice that Peeta's face is closer than it was before, and my eyes immediately make a beeline for his lips. He runs his tongue along the bottom one, wetting the chapped skin, and I bite my own in response. Why must this boy – no, man – be so damn attractive?
"No, I guess not," he echoes my words as my own face leans closer to his. I can feel our breaths mingling, smell the scent of flour and sugar on his skin, see the light blond stubble that is scattered along his jaw line.
He moves closer and closes his eyes, but I can't let him know how desperately I want the feel of his lips against mine, how he makes my pulse beat erratically, and my palms sweat, my head reeling just from the scent of him. It isn't right. I don't deserve him.
I pull away from his embrace, realizing with flushed cheeks that I have somehow tangled my arms around his middle.
"Uh, maybe you should show me now?" I breathe, my voice uncharacteristically high. I don't do girly, I don't do flirting. Is this flirting?
No, of course not. This is just Peeta and me.
Peeta coughs uncomfortably and puts his empty arms down at his sides, his posture looking slightly defeated. I can't help but smile slightly at the fact that he light in his eyes that I saw when I first walked in this morning is still there.
"Yeah, sure, Katniss. Whatever you want. So, cheesebuns," Peeta says, rubbing his hands together. He nods with his head at the forgotten apron on the counter. "You might want to put that on. It's going to get a little dirty."
Almost at the exactly same time, Peeta and I both blush crimson, and I hide my face in my once I see his mouth hanging open, for once no words to ease the situation. I sulk over to counter and put the apron on. I look down and see that it hands almost to my knees, and the top bib part barely covers the top part of my chest.
Peeta mumbles something under his breath that almost sounds like, "Get it together, Mellark," when he shakes his head and walks over to me.
"May I?" he asks quietly, motioning to the ties of the apron. I nod, sweeping my braid off and over my right shoulder, bending my head down. I am brought back to memories of what transpired between us last night and an involuntary shiver runs down my spine. I feel Peeta's calloused fingers touch the tie on the back of my neck, and hear rather than see the shifting of fabric as the apron gets pulled up to cover more of my chest. He ties it off, then slides his hands down my back slowly to the tie around my waist. I hear him let out a sigh as he tugs on the tie, pulling me slightly closer to him. His thumbs brush slightly against my butt and I freeze slightly, but not as much as before. In some ways I revel in the little touches that happen between Peeta and I, and then instantly regret them, scolding myself for enjoying it.
"All done," he whispers against the shell of my ear.
"T-thank you," is all that I manage to stammer through my lips as he moves away, yet again motioning with his hands to lead me to stand in front of the counter. I shake my head, trying to clear the inappropriate thoughts from my head. Is this what all the girls were talking about when they went to the slag heap? Is this what my mother constantly referred to girls being? 'Hormonal teenagers?' Because if so, I am not going to be able to sort my feeling out for Peeta as easily as I thought I would be able to be.
Peeta stands a solid foot behind me as I stand behind his kitchen counter. "Now, cheese buns are pretty easy to make, despite the hype that they have concocted. To make this easier, I've already measured out the ingredients for us. Just pick up the cup over there. It has the flour in it. You're just going to pour it into the bowl in front of you with the yeast and water. Just be careful not to spill. Baking is picky about measurements."
I giggly slightly as Peeta ramble on. It's cute, how invested he is in his work, and how dedicated he is to it. I pick up the cup that holds the flour and dump it in unceremoniously into the bigger bowl of ingredients. "Like that?" I ask.
"Just like that, Katniss," he says, his voice carrying something in it that I cannot pin to an emotion I've heard before. I shake it off and set the cup down, putting my hands on the counter.
"What's next?" I ask.
Peeta comes in from behind me and pulls the bowl closer to me. "Now you have to mix it with your hands, and then you have to knead it."
"Okay…" I say warily, not sure if I can accomplish this task well. I really want to show Peeta that I can do more than hunt and devour all of his bakery goodies. I can be his friend a part of his life too, maybe even help when he finally starts up his bakery again.
He chuckles from behind me. "You'll do fine. Just stick your hands in there and start molding them together. Like mud almost."
I do as he says and stick my hands in the bowl, feeling the gooey dough slip in my fingers.
"It's squishy," I say, a lithe laughter in my voice. My comment resonates with Peeta, and I hear a small chuckle escape his lips.
"Yes, it is, but it's fun. I think you're good. Take the bowl and dump it all out onto the counter and start kneading."
I nod and dump the contents of the bowl onto the already floured counter, sending a small cloud of the stuff into the air and settling on my apron, arms and hair.
Peeta chuckles again as I feel him step closer, his breath barely touching the skin on the back of my neck. "Um, you have some flour in your hair," he laughs.
"Shut up, I know," I growl as I swat away at my bangs.
He steps closer, and I can feel heart radiating off of him now. "You have to work it slowly, then all at once. Be careful," he says quietly.
I nod yet again, unable to form a coherent sentence with him this close and behind slamming my palms into the dough hastily for a few moments. I hear Peeta sigh and he steps closer again, and his chest is now flush with my back. I do not flinch this time, now used to the contact. I do not know if this is a good thing or a bad thing.
"Slowly, Katniss. Gently," he breathes, and his voice has taken on a huskier quality that for some reason makes me want to clench my thighs together. He rest his chin on my shoulder, slowly moving his hands down my arms, causing goosebumps to break out behind the heated trail he leaves on my skin. His rough hands now rest on top of mine, and he laces our finger together in such a way that we are able to knead the dough together. My senses are heightened now at the proximity that Peeta and I are allocating. My breathing is coming in shaky pulls as my insides smolder. Again I have the strange urge to rub my thighs together, to quell the heat that is making me almost dizzy.
Our motions are languid, slow and almost stop. I lull my head back against his shoulder, too content to care that his isn't right, that I don't deserve to indulge in pleasure such as being close to Peeta, being able to touch him, be near him.
I realize now that our hands have stopped, and that Peeta's breathing matching my rapid one. He has managed to move closer to me, his thighs to his chest flush with the back of me. The whole kitchen is quiet. The only sound I can hear is that of our breathing and my blood pounding in my ears. I can feel my resolve breaking slowly, the armor I have put up the past couple of weeks cracking under the sensation that is simply Peeta.
This time when I feel him place a kiss on the back of my neck, I don't stop him.
I lull my head down, letting my chin rest comfortably as he continues pressing warm, languid kisses on the heated skin on the back of neck, working slowly to the skin behind my ear. I let out a sigh of contentment. Damn my rules, damn being fair, and damn him for breaking down my resolve.
I feel rather than hear Peeta whisper my name into my skin as he continues his kisses, down my jaw and the other side of my neck. He lets my hands untangle from our grasp as he moves his own slowly up the sides of my body, running his big hands up and down my sides in a soothing matter. His thumbs brush the undersides of my breasts and I let out a throaty moan that I did not expect to escape. It was part surprise, part pleasure.
And I want him to do it again.
At the sound that I make from his action, Peeta instantly slides his hands down to grasp my waist to whirl my around in his arms, pressing me against the counter, the previous job at hand forgotten as his lips crash into mine for the first time since that night in the second arena. My arms immediately wrap around his neck, my finger tangling in the golden curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to me still. Peeta lets out a low groan from the back of his throat and pushes against me more, his lips rougher, deepening the kiss. I meet him eagerly, pulling at his hair.
He surprises me and moving his hands down from my waist to the back of my thighs, lifting me up and placing me on the counter unceremoniously. I instantly wrap my legs around his waist pulling him closer. More. I need more.
Suddenly I feel Peeta's tongue glide across my lower lip. It resonates with the thrumming between my thighs that I am choosing to ignore. All I know now is that the ember inside me earlier is now a full- blown inferno, raging through my veins and making my pulse so loud I can hear it in my ears. Does Peeta feel this way, too?
I can't think straight, all of my thoughts are muddled. All I want is him, and his lips on mine, his body as close to me as possible. I let my hands wander down the front of his shirt and under the hem slightly, aching to feel the heat of his skin beneath my fingers. When my hands finally make purchase I feel Peeta groan inwardly, my name falling off of his lips and across mine, where my tongue meets his languidly. Our mouths are fierce and hot and ravishing, and I can't tell where I stop and he begins. I tug him closer to me if possible by the edge of his shirt, running my hands over his chiseled chest under his shirt, trying to commit to memory every part of him. For all I know this is the last time that I will get to be this way with him.
All of the sudden I feel something press against me, and I immediately press back. I am too stunned to realize when it happens again that it is Peeta, and…something attached to him that wasn't there earlier.
I push my hands against his chest and pull away. "Peeta, we...we're friends," I say breathlessly, taking a gulp of air to calm my breathing a rapid heartbeat.
I see the look of confusion of Peeta's face before he glances down to see what I am trying to avoid, and an immediate flush of crimson graces his cheeks. A look of dread is in his blue eyes, which have darken from our activities, as he reaches out for me.
"Oh, Katniss, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I…" for the second time today Peeta is speechless, and for some reason, this scares me.
I yank the apron off of my body, snagging it on my braid a few times in my haste before thowing it on the counter.
"I have to go. I just…" I don't manage to complete my sentence as tears fill my eyes and the gravity of what just transpired between us settles in on my heart.
I manage to look over my shoulder one last time before I exit through the door, and I instantly regret the decision. The look on Peeta's face is pure devastation. I knew that being friends, or in a relationship, would just only complicate things which is exactly what just happened. I'm not good for him. I always manage to somehow get him hurt.
I grab my coat from the rack and bolt through the door into the snow, the cold biting at my face as the tears rush down my cheeks, my whole body feeling empty. I can never let that happen with Peeta ever again.
A/N: Sooo, tell me what you think! Notice that the rating for this story has changed to M for obvious reasons. Do you like the smut fluff? I can't tell if I'm good at it or not and would love some feedback on it. Thank you to all who have favorited and are following this story. It makes my heart happy to see that someone likes my writing. Up next we are getting into some angsty waters. Thanks for reading!
~P