I instantly pull away, shocked and sputtering.

"Katniss—w-what?" I start, but I have no words. Katniss just kissed me. On the mouth. I can't even comprehend it.

She places her hand on my chest, her fingers setting my skin on fire. "Kiss me," she whispers. They're the first words she's spoken all day. "Touch me."

Oh fuck. "Katniss, maybe this isn't the best idea," I say, trying to convince myself just as much as her. "You aren't thinking clearly right now."

She shakes her head. "I am. Please, Peeta." Her voice is raw and broken. Tears slip from her silver eyes and run down the flushed, blotchy skin of her face. Her lips are quivering and a little of bit of snot is dripping from her nose. But I've never seen her look more beautiful. "Just make me forget," she whispers.

And I want to. Oh god, I want her. But I can't take advantage of her like this. We just buried the last family member she has, and she's obviously not in the right state of mind. She doesn't want me. She said it herself, she just wants to forget. But I know, as soon as I'm inside her, I'll never forget. I won't want to.

She leans down to me and begins kissing up my neck, her lips trembling against my skin. Her nails are digging into my chest, painful pleasure. My hands rise on their own accord and grip her hips; she feels so good.

I release a shuttering breath and force myself to get my head in the game. I told Katniss I was here to help her—and that's what I have to do. She needs this. She needs a release. And I will give it to her. I can't watch her break again—not Katniss. She's so strong—I just. I can't. Not her.

As soon as her lips reach the corner of my jaw, I turn my head and seal her lips with mine again. Her soft lips taste like salt and honey and home, and I'm hungry for more.

I make quick work of the buttons on her black ruffled top, the one she wore to the funeral, and slip it off her shoulders; my lips follow my hands. The skin of her shoulders and arms is just as warm and delicious as her lips. I nibble on her shoulder blades, eliciting a small moan from her. I'm throbbing my jeans, my erection pressing uncomfortably against my zipper, but I ignore it. This isn't about me.

Katniss rolls onto her back and pulls me on top of her. "I need you to kiss me again," she gasps into my hair, and I oblige, bringing my mouth away from her collarbone and back to hers. Her smooth tongue collides with mine, sweet and forceful, and she hums contentedly in the back of her throat.

I position myself between her legs, pushing up her cotton skirt with my thighs, and we fit together inexplicably—a missing puzzle piece.

I slide my left hand out from under her back let it fall onto her chest; I feel her body sink further into the mattress in response, moaning quietly. Her breast fits perfectly in my hand, and I squeeze it gently, my fingers eager to feel the weight of it. I graze my thumb over her pebbled nipple through the sheer fabric of her bra and Katniss's fingers clench on my hair in response, pulling at the roots. She likes that. I do it again, tweaking her nipple between my thumb and forefinger with more pressure and she writhes under me, grinding her hips against mine, pushing another soft moan into my mouth.

Suddenly, she places her hands on my shoulders and pushes me away. I pull back, gazing into her lust-filled eyes.

"What did I?—did I do something—" I start, but she silences me by reaching behind her back and unclasping her bra; it slowly slides off her body. She falls back down on the bed, biting her bottom lip, nervous and self-conscious.

I've seen breasts before, obviously, but I can't help but stare at Katniss's bare chest. They are the perfect size, round and pale. Her nipples are small and pink and enticingly hard and I need to taste them. I lean down and envelope her left one with my mouth, nibbling softly, then increasing the pressure until I'm biting it entirely; I groan against her skin, officially hard.

"Fuck," Katniss moans as her nails scratch my scalp. I swirl my tongue around the area and nibble at it again before I switch to the other side and do the same thing. With my lips attached to her perfect nipple, I look up to her face and watch as she tosses her head from side to side, biting her lip, her eyes squeezed shut. Hands down, it's the sexiest thing I've ever seen.

I leave her breasts and kiss down her stomach until I'm where I want to be the most. I unzip the zipper on the side of her skirt, and slowly inch it down her thighs, revealing her white cotton underwear. God, that hot. I lick my lips in anticipation.

"Peeta?"

I tear my gaze away from the junction of her thighs and back up to her face. Her eyebrows are pulled together and her cloudy eyes are wide and questioning.

"I've never…" she trails off, her hands moving to cover her face, discomfited. What? What she talking about?

I crawl back up her body until my face is only a few inches from hers. "Never what?" I ask. I peel her hands away, forcing her to look at me.

"No guy has ever, you know, gone down on me," she murmurs, red blotches of embarrassment appearing on her cheeks.

"Seriously?" I shake my head in disbelief. I haven't thought about doing anything else since the minute I saw her. She nods. A rush of pleasure runs through me. I'm gonna be the first person to taste her. "Well we are about to change that," I tell her, grinning.

I watch as her face morphs with surprise, and I can't help but lean in for another kiss before I slither down her body again. I stop at her breasts momentarily, sucking the peaks, but continue my journey, licking along her ribs and dipping my tongue into her bellybutton.

"Wait," she says. I look up to her face from the edge of her panties. "Take your shirt off."

I sit up on my knees and pull the offending garment over my shoulders, not even bothering to unbutton it first.

She reaches up for me when it's cast aside and pulls my body back on top of hers. She kisses me again with fervor, her hands running up and down the panes of my stomach and chest. I glide one of my hands along her delicate collar bone and between our bodies, back to her breast. She's going to get as much pleasure of this as possible. She sighs into my mouth as I pinch her hard nipple, her body bucking uncontrollably against mine.

But I stop before I get too tempted. I tear my mouth away from hers, even though it pains me, and shift down her body again until I'm eye-level with her crotch. I can see that they're damp with her arousal and my dick throbs at the notion that I have the ability to turn Katniss on. I slowly pull off her white briefs and throw them over my shoulder.

I almost come in my pants at the sight of her, spread open and glistening. Her clit peaks out, swollen and begging to be sucked, but I refrain. For now. Unable to wait, I dive in, dragging my tongue through her slick folds. Katniss's hips rise and I hear a mewl of approval and surprise escape her. Eager for more, I move her muscled thighs onto my shoulders, and slide my hands to the soft but firm skin of her ass to get better access to her delicious core. She tastes earthy but sweet and I'm drooling for it—even better than I imagined as I thought about her in the shower, my hand wrapped around myself, pumping furiously. But I honestly never thought I'd get the chance to do it.

I swivel my tongue south, seeking her entrance, and dip my tongue inside when I do. Katniss swivels her hips against my face, gasping loudly and pleasurably, so I keep doing what I'm doing, drawing her sweet wetness into my mouth. I massage her tight walls, groaning at way she contracts around my tongue. What I wouldn't do to be buried deep inside of her.

When my tongue starts to tire, I slip out of her and find the bundle of nerves that will make her scream my name. As soon as the tip of my tongue touches her clit, her hips fly off the bed, her hand suddenly in my hair.

"Peeta," she moans. I can't help but smile at the way she pants my name.

I remove one of my hands from her ass and slip two fingers inside of her as I go back to her clit, worrying the hot flesh between my lips. I curl my fingers upwards, seeking her g-spot, trying to get her off with an explosive orgasm.

I run the pad of my tongue over her clit, and then the underside, trying to find out what she likes best. But it's not until I wrap my mouth around it entirely and suck as hard as I can that she begins to really grind against my face and pull at my hair so hard it hurts. I should have known she'd like that.

She doesn't warn me when she's about to come, but I can feel it. She slowly tightens around my fingers and then she contracts violently, shouting my name loudly and gutturally. Her hands clench around the fistfuls of my hair in time with her waves of her orgasm, and I keep sucking and teasing her clit until I feel her slump into the bed, exhausted.

I quickly go back to her entrance and drink the evidence of her orgasm before I pull away and seek her gaze. Her grey eyes are hooded and sleepy and I know I've done my job—given her a well needed release of pain and pleasure.

I crawl off the bed and remove my black slacks, not even trying to hide the fact that I've got the most painful erection and I would probably explode with a subtle breeze. It relieves some of the ache and I take a deep breath, willing myself to relax. I snatch the folded quilt at the end of the bed then crawl back onto it to lie down beside her, throwing the blanket over the two of us.

She cuddles into my chest and kisses my neck delicately, her tongue slipping out of her mouth to prod deliciously at my pulse point.

Yeah, this is definitely not helping with the whole boner thing.

"Katniss…" I warn. She pulls her face away and gazes down at me, her hand caressing my pecs. She lets the blanket fall, revealing her left breast; her nipple is still hard and begging to have my mouth around it again. I shake my head, dismissing those thoughts.

"What?" she asks.

I take a deep breath. I don't want to hurt her. But doesn't she understand that I'm dying here? She could never be just a one night stand for me. I'd have to have her again and again. To feel her silky skin against mine; to intertwine our fingers together above her head; to move inside her and feel her walls milk my come out of me and into her.

I brush her hair behind her ear and lean up kiss her perfect, slightly sweaty forehead. "I don't want you to regret anything," I tell her truthfully, hoping that will be the best explanation.

"I may be younger than you Peeta, but I'm not a child. I can make decisions for myself." She's angry. Good. That's better than hurt.

I graze her flushed cheek with my thumb. "I know that. But that doesn't mean that your decision-making skills are on par right now." I kiss her lips—just once, quickly—but even that simple action makes me hungry her more. But I refrain. "I made you forget. That's what you wanted, right?"

Her eyes flash with something I can't identify, and she breaks our stare, looking down at the quilt; she covers herself up again.

"I think I'm hungry now," she whispers after a long silence. She's still avoiding my eyes.

I nod my head and slip out from under the blankets. I've settled mostly, but I decide not to get dressed. I mean, Katniss is still naked and I don't want her to feel any more vulnerable than she already is right now. "I'll order a pizza. I'm gonna search for a phonebook or something downstairs—can you be alone for a minute?"

She nods her head and collapses down on the bed again, bringing the quilt up to cover her head.

Dread filling my stomach, I turn and exit the room.

I lick my lips as my foot hits the first step.

I can still taste her.

Katniss doesn't sleep at all. So neither do I, no matter how tired I am. After we finished eating pizza, Katniss just laid on her back and watched the ceiling; I joined her, keeping space between us. She got dressed while I searched for a phonebook downstairs in the massive kitchen—slipping back into her underwear and pulling on my discarded button-up. She looked so mouth-watering my shirt, I couldn't deny that, but I didn't move to hold her like I wanted to. After what just happened, she needs to make the move, set the pace. I don't want to scare her away in her grieving state.

When the sun was officially gone and the moon began to light up the room, we submerged ourselves under the covers and tried to fall asleep. But it's been hours and still nothing.

It's not until past two a.m. that I finally feel Katniss curl up against me and press her face into my neck. I wrap my arm around her immediately, squeezing her body to my side. She slips one of her legs between mine; her toes are ice cold like always.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. Her breath tickles my ear and causes goosebumps to erupt all over my body. Her voice always has that effect on me.

I comb my fingers through her still loose hair. "For what?"

"Your mother."

My entire body stiffens, my hands freezing in her waves. I forgot I told her about that. I quickly resume running my fingers through her chestnut locks. But I stay silent. I don't want to talk about my mother.

She runs her hand down my stomach and rests it on my hipbone. "I can't understand how anyone could ever hurt you," she murmurs, so quietly I'm not sure is she meant to say it out loud.

I want to scoff at that. My mother was just the first of many women to hurt me. And yeah, the pain she inflicted was worse and longer-lasting, but she was still just the first. I've known nothing but suffering when it comes to the opposite sex and only sometimes can I see that ever changing. Only in moments like this, warm cuddling with Katniss, can I see a painless future. But it's a fantasy, a fallacy, never to come true.

"I could say the same about you," I whisper. She pulls away to look down at me. The moonlight shines on her features, now furrowed with confusion. Not her relatives—the pain they inflicted wasn't intentional. "Your ex-boyfriend," I explain. "You said that he cheated on you. I can't imagine anyone doing that to you."

I run my fingers down the smooth skin of her thigh, unable to help myself. She shivers against me, but doesn't move away. "Yeah, well, you can't change the past right?" she says, pushing away the hurt.

I nod. "No. But you can try to move past it."

Easier said than done. I've been trying to live by those words for years, with no success. Only more heartache.

"It was actually a good thing he cheated," Katniss says, startling me back into the conversation. "Made me realize that he wasn't what I wanted."

I feel myself nodding. "It was the kinda same with Delly—the one that just cheated on me. I now know that we weren't meant to be. But the pain," I take a deep breath, "is still fresh."

She starts to run her hands up and down my stomach, and I instantly relax, her touch soothing me. I don't know if she's doing it intentionally, but it's working. Her touch is strong and steady and comforting—unlike anything I've known in my life.

"I'm glad you're here with me," she says, her fingers playing with my happy trail.

"Me too," I tell her honestly. I can't imagine doing anything else right now.

"We barely know each other, yet you take care of me as if we've been close since birth. I've never known anyone who cares like that before."

"I've never met anyone as strong and as beautiful as you before."

I finally turn my face to her and watch as her grey eyes flash with that same emotion I can't seem to pinpoint. She places her hand on my cheek and closes her eyes.

And that's how we finally fall asleep.

There's not a lot in this house food-wise, but I find the ingredients for my special cinnamon bread. I need to make Katniss something—something to show her that it was more than just taking care of her last night. Something that will tell her that I care for her. And I need to do it without saying the words. Because I soon as I say them, it's over for us. Doomed. And I don't want that.

I let the dough rise and mix the cinnamon sugar while I let my mind wander. I've done this so many times its second nature—as natural as breathing to me. I didn't want to leave her and have her wake up alone, but it was necessary; and I think I can get back in time before she awakes. But I want to please her in any way possible, and this will. She moaned when she first ate a slice of the cinnamon bread my father packed for us and she complimented him, and I never told her that I actually made it. This will show her.

It's only five a.m. and the sun hasn't even started to rise, but I couldn't sleep anymore. There's honestly nothing better than falling asleep next to Katniss, but I can't stay asleep for long; my mind is too busy. It wants her and then it doesn't and it relives tasting her and it wants me to forget it. But I can't forget it anymore. She's under my skin and I don't think she's going to get out—at least not soon anyway.

But I refuse to fall for her. Like her, sure. I'm completely infatuated with her now and I'm finally willing to admit it. But fall in love with her? Uh-uh. No. Never. I'm putting my foot down.

It's fifteen minutes to six when I pop the loaf into the oven and head upstairs. Hopefully, I'll be able to sneak back in bed. I walk as quietly as I can down the hallway and into the peach room. Katniss is thankfully still asleep, her hair matted around her face. She's on her stomach, her face turned to the side, her arm stretched out on the space I was previously occupying. My chest warms at the idea that she's reaching for me.

I slip onto the mattress and place her stretched arm on my stomach, lying down on my back. Katniss immediately snuggles into my side, her head settling by my armpit. My bread has to bake for forty minutes, and I want to spend that time watching her sleep. I like watching her sleep—and not in a creepy way. I just—I can't explain it. I like looking at her when there's no chance of her seeing. She has an effect on me. I'm a victim, a slave to her, and I love breathing her in.

I try not to get excited by the sight of her plain white panties peeking out from under my shirt, but I can't help it—my dick twitches automatically. I was there twelve hours ago, tasting the arousal I gave her. There's no better knowledge I've received in my life. That I, Peeta Mellark, can make Katniss Everdeen come.

Unfortunately, my watching time is cut a couple minutes short when Katniss begins to stir at my side. She blinks her eyes open, blurry and grey as she chases the sleep away. But soon enough she fixes her suffocating gaze on me and I try to smile at her as comforting as possible. Thankfully, she smiles back—though it's small. But it still counts.

"I'm baking breakfast," I tell her cautiously, gauging her reaction.

She nods her head and together we crawl out of bed and down the stairs. I walk behind her, watching the gentle sway of her hips under the shirt that barely covers her ass. Beautiful. Just fucking beautiful.

The timer goes off just as we enter the kitchen and I scramble to find an oven mitt to pull it out. It's perfectly golden, the cinnamon bubbling out of the slits on the top of the loaf. I set it on top of the oven and search for a glass to get Katniss some water. Milk goes best with it, but considering no one lives here, I highly doubt the fridge would contain milk. And if it did, the carton would probably be so old it would have grandchildren.

When I hand Katniss the glass, she gives me another small smile. Unable to stand it for another second, I lean down and quickly kiss her forehead. I just need to touch her, taste her—anything. I'm desperate here. Her smile is wider when I pull away and I instantly relax.

"How are feeling today?" I ask, tentatively.

She bites her lower lip that's trembling slightly, and shrugs her shoulders. "I'm not crying, so that's a good sign," she says, dismissing me, hiding her sadness.

"I will be here for you if feel like it."

She shakes her head. "I'm just hungry right now."

I nod and turn back to the stove, and slip the loaf of cinnamon bread out of the pan. The aroma takes over my senses, and I breathe deeply, relishing in the comfort it gives me. I quickly pull a bread knife out of the corner and slice a couple slices for Katniss. I slide them onto one of the paper plates I found last night and hand it to her.

"Thanks for doing this," she says, lifting the bread to her mouth.

I nod. "I'd do anything for you," I whisper, uncontrollably, the words falling from my mouth before I can stop them.

She takes a large bite, and I watch her carefully as she chews and swallows. She immediately takes another bite. Her mouth morphs into a grin, chewing and smiling at me. I smile back, a chuckle escaping my mouth.

Once her first slice is finished, she asks, "Did you make the bread your father packed for us?"

I nod.

A small, quiet smile comes onto her face then. A smile I haven't seen before—like she's breathing in the subtle scent of rain. "I want to learn more about you."

My heart flutters in my chest. There's nothing I would love more.

How was that? Sexy enough for you guys, but it didn't shatter the fragile, budding state of their relationship? I hope so. Thank you all for reading—and for reviewing, favoriting and following. You guys are awesome. Any predictions for what's to come with these two? Let me know

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