Chapter 10 - One Foot In And One Foot Back

June 1993

Peeta was waiting, though he wasn't sure what he was waiting for. He knew what he wanted – that had never changed – but there was a hard knot inside his chest that kept him wary. He couldn't completely extinguish the fear in the back of his mind that maybe his life would be limited to a love he could never fully trust, that would only disappoint him.

He'd lived with that kind of love before, and he wouldn't go there again. He'd rather be alone.

He was mad at himself for still wanting her, and he was mad at himself for questioning what, deep down, he knew was right. And every time he allowed himself the luxury of just thinking about it, he ended up more confused than he had been before. He couldn't see his way out.

Whenever he got to this place, he walked away. Distanced himself. Didn't call. Tried not to think about her. And that sometimes worked for a little while. But then she'd call again. Or he would hear a song and think of her. See something that reminded him of her.

And in those moments, it was as instinctual as breathing, as easy as a heartbeat: he was reaching for the phone before he even realized it. He yearned to see her, to just show up on her porch.

But it felt too easy. He didn't trust himself. And once he had made it back to that realization, he was mad at himself all over again.

To distract himself, Peeta had thrown himself into a new project. As winter had turned into spring, he felt nostalgia for camp. He knew it mostly had to do with Katniss and the entire experience last summer, but he also realized that he really liked working with his campers.

With this in mind, it wasn't a big leap to begin planning a series of baking classes for kids. He let the idea percolate in the back of his mind for awhile before beginning to try to figure out how it could work. He could hold classes on Saturdays through the summer, one class for middle school students and another for high school. For once, he appreciated the business degree he had almost completed because he knew how to go about drawing up a plan that could possibly convince his parents.

Of course they'd been skeptical. He showed them how, if he enrolled at least ten kids, he could offset the money they'd have to pay someone else to work while he was teaching. And he was pretty sure Delly would take the hours, so they wouldn't have to spend time training someone new.

And the exposure the bakery would gain – from advertising alone much less from word of mouth from the families enrolled – could only be good for the bakery.

When his mother heard that last part, her expression changed minutely. She was intrigued.

"What about the expense in ingredients?" she had asked, looking for a reason to say no.

"Minimal. The cost of the class would cover it – just like fees for an art course. The parents would expect that, I'm sure."

His mother nodded again, and his father took advantage of her silence. "I think it sounds like a great idea, Peeta," he said. "But are you sure you can control these children? What kind of experience do you have with this?"

"Dad," he said, trying to hide his exasperation, "it's much simpler than being a counselor. It's an hour and a half on one day versus twenty four hours a day each week." What did they think he'd done last summer? Did they really doubt him that much?

"If the class runs late and the parents have to hang around the bakery waiting for their kids, they're likely to buy things while they're here," his mother commented.

"I imagine that will happen even if I end it on time," Peeta said. He had tried not to roll his eyes. Sometimes he wondered how his parents had ended up this way – and how he'd managed to be so different from them.

His parents had agreed to think about it, but his father had let him know the next day that they were willing to try. "But your mother will want a detailed accounting of expenses each week."

"Of course," he said, smiling and feeling uplifted for the first time in so many months. As he finished his shift, mentally planning in his head, his thoughts kept returning to Katniss. He wanted to call her. He wanted to tell her.

But the knee-jerk reaction that had come to rule his life as far as she was concerned had squelched that thought. He wasn't ready to tell her.

Their conversations had been increasingly personal and meaningful, and the most recent one – when she'd told him about her one night stands – still made him sick to his stomach. He knew it was none of his business, and he had tried to remain aloof when they talked about it, but it felt like a punch in the gut. He hated knowing it and did everything he could to keep from picturing it. She was an adult. She could do what she wanted. But it made him ill to imagine her in a place where she went out searching for that kind of comfort – and, worse, to know it had failed so horribly that she had one more burden of regret to carry because of it.

Despite the increasing seriousness of their recent conversations, he'd been careful not to share anything too personal with her. He'd deliberately held back, not yet ready to open himself up to her fully. He appreciated that she was making an effort, and he knew how much that effort must be costing her. But he wasn't there yet.

So as his plan for the baking classes developed and he suppressed the urge to tell her, he decided to reach out and reciprocate in a different way.

The next day, he took an extra long lunch break, knowing he could stay late to make up for it, and went to Pike's Nursery. He didn't have any particular shrub in mind as he began wandering among the rows and rows of plants, but his eye caught on one with small, yellow flowers, and it immediately reminded him of the embroidery on the smocked dress from all those years ago. When he saw the name of the plant was Evening Primrose, he knew he had to buy them. It was maybe more meaningful than he meant the gift to be, but he decided not to question it.

He felt sure she wouldn't be home, but he still drove slowly down her street, scanning for her car. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he felt a huge rush of relief when he was convinced that it wasn't there. He pulled up right in front of the house.

After grabbing the plants out of the back, he made his way up the walk. He'd had an idea to plant them himself, but now that he was here, he just wanted to get away as soon as possible. After depositing them on the first step of the porch, he stepped back to admire the newly sprouting flowers Katniss had been working on. It looked good, neat and well cared for.

When he heard the front door open, he jumped and looked up in a panic. Jo stood in the doorway looking at him.

"Hi," he said. His hands were sweating and his heart was beating wildly again. "She's not here, is she?"

"No," she said.

"Good," he said, taking a deep breath. "I, uh, I brought her those." Peeta gestured towards the plants on the step. "That's all."

Jo was smiling at him, an expression he'd not seen on her face too many times before. "I'll let her know you were here."

"Thanks Jo." He turned and walked halfway down the walk before turning back to her. "Delly was really excited to see you last weekend."

Even from ten feet away, he could see her expression change and her face color. "Yeah," she said nodding and working to suppress her expression. "Yeah, it was good."

Peeta nodded at her. "See ya around."

"I hope so, Peeta."

At home that night, Peeta began to formalize his ideas. The class would run for six weeks from late June to early August, and he made notes on what he would cover each Saturday. He made a flyer to advertise the cooking class and planned to run by Kinko's after work the next day to make copies. Although there was still some time before the class would begin, he knew that the sooner he filled the spots, the sooner he could get a detailed report to his mother. He also wanted to call Creative Loafing, the weekly free newspaper, and see how much it would cost to place an ad there.

The next morning at work, thoughts of the class filled the empty spaces of his mind. It was a relief to have something productive to focus on, and it kept at bay the questions about Katniss that were running around in his head. He wondered what she'd thought when she saw the primroses. He'd half expected her to call, but she didn't.

For the most part, however, he was too busy to wonder too much. For the first time in a long time, he felt like his old self. He was busy, he was excited about what he was doing, and he had a lot to look forward to over the next few weeks. As he drove home from Kinko's that night, with the stack of freshly printed color flyers sitting beside him, he felt a surge of excitement.

And being who he was, Peeta wanted to share it. He wanted to call Katniss.

As that thought surfaced, doubt pulled at his mind for the first time that day. He wanted to call her, but he couldn't deny the voice that cautioned him. Peeta hated that voice – especially after having been in a good head space all day. He needed to banish that doubt, but it was harder than he wanted to admit.

Pulling into his driveway, he stopped for his mail. It was a heavy stack because he didn't tend to get it every day. Only when he got back into his car and the stack tilted did he see the picture falling out of the corner of his eye. He caught it at the last minute before it fell to the footwell of the car.

His heartbeat sped up immediately as he gazed at the picture of her. It had been six months since he'd seen her, and that last time, she'd looked terrible – pale and frail and too thin. He didn't realize until that moment that he'd held on to that image, pictured it when he thought of her.

As he looked at the snapshot, memories flooded him of the previous summer – all the memories he'd tried to forget.

Here, she looked healthy. Sitting on the porch, she had her knees pulled up to her chest, and he could tell her skin had regained the deep, olive tone that spoke of summer. Her arms were crossed over her knees, and her chin rested upon them as she looked up to the camera. Face flushed and slightly sweaty, she looked as if she had just finished planting the primroses, which he guessed she probably had.

What arrested him was the fact that she looked strong. That was the expression he'd allowed himself, no really forced himself, to forget. Her eyes shone, illuminated to a soft grey color in the sunlight, and though her expression was nervous, it was also determined.

Looking at the picture, he felt the old urge that he'd had since he was twelve, since the first time he'd lain his hand on her face and cupped her cheek. Closing his eyes, it was if he could feel the disparity between the softness of her cheek and the hard line of her jaw.

A moment later, he opened his eyes and realized he was still sitting in his car, the engine running, at the top of the driveway. He closed the door, put the car in drive, and headed towards his parking spot at the back of the house.

Peeta stewed for awhile. He knew what he was going to do. He was going to call her. He was going to move forward. But still that persistent voice whispered to him, so he was waiting. Holding off.

After heating up some leftovers, he sat at his small card table and made a list of places he would drop off flyers the next day. A few he needed to call first, but most places he could just show up. He organized his list geographically to make the most sense for his drive. Then he calculated the amount of time needed to make deliveries on his lunch break.

He was stalling. He knew it.

Finally, he reached down and picked up the phone. Johanna answered.

"Hey, Jo," he said. "How's it going?"

"Good, but I'm walking out the door. Here's Katniss."

There was a pause she handed off the phone, and then after another moment, he heard a door shut.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

"Hey," she said and let a breath out. "How's it going?"

"Good. I got the picture." He waited a moment. "You look good." He wondered if she was smiling. He looked down at the picture again and imagined her smiling.

"Thanks," she said. "I love the . . . the roses. They're perfect. Thank you."

"The yellow flowers caught my eye, and then when I saw what it was, well, I just thought they were right."

"Yeah, they were." She was quiet a moment before asking, "How's your summer going?"

"Good, better than I expected, I guess."

"Why's that?"

He swallowed. "Well, I'm putting together this baking class. For kids and, I mean, I'm just in the planning stages of it now, but I got my parents to agree to it, and it's going to be on Saturdays starting in a couple weeks. I made flyers today and am going to put some around town tomorrow to try to get interest." He paused. "It's not a big deal," he hedged, "but I'm excited about it. It's a distraction from the daily routine."

"Peeta, that's awesome," Katniss said, and he could hear the enthusiasm in her voice. "That's a great idea. The kids loved you last summer, so I'm sure they will for this, too."

He laughed softly. "Well, as long as they enjoy it and, I guess, learn something. I don't know. We'll see, but I'm looking forward to it."

"You should be. That sounds really great."

"Right. So anyway, now I'm trying to figure out what to bake each Saturday, that kind of thing. It's been fun." He realized he was repeating himself.

"You should bring a flyer by Fernbank. We have summer camps starting next week, so there'll be a bunch of kids in and out." She paused a moment before continuing in a rush, "I mean, you don't have to see me. Just bring it by some morning. I have all morning classes this semester, so I'm only there in the afternoons."

The silence was awkward and he knew he needed to say something but he didn't know what. Finally, he decided not to comment on whether he'd see her or not. "Thanks, I appreciate it. I'll take all the advertising I can get."

They both knew he had dodged the issue, and it lay there, filling up the gulf between them, the waters that neither knew how to negotiate.

"Well, good luck," she said finally. "Let me know how it goes."

"Yeah," he said. "I will."

Peeta had arranged with his father to leave work early the next day to distribute the flyers. He started with the shopping center across the street before heading to several churches and businesses along Ponce de Leon. When he returned to his car, he sat for a moment thinking. He was near Fernbank, and it would make sense for him to go there next, but she would be there.

He didn't have to see her. He could easily leave it at the front desk and head straight out.

He turned the key in the ignition and backed out of his parking spot, turning the car in the direction of Fernbank.

Walking in the foyer a few minutes later, he looked around. There was no one sitting there, but just down the hallway, there was a bulletin board. He carefully pinned his sheet up, making sure not to cover any of the other notices, before stepping back and looking around. He knew her desk was in one of the classrooms down the hallway.

Before he could give it much more thought, he wandered a ways, peering into empty, dark classrooms until he reached one with a light on inside. Looking through the window in the door, he saw her sitting at the lab table at the front facing the rest of the classroom.

His heart rate steadily increasing, he watched her a moment. She leaned over a notebook, writing intently and glancing up at a book in front of her periodically. Her eyebrows were furrowed in thought, an expression he'd seen on her face countless times. The sight made him want to reach up between her eyebrows and smooth the wrinkle there.

He stepped back from the window, trying to decide what to do. Looking up and down the deserted hallway, he ran his hands through his hair a moment before scrubbing his fists over his eyes. Emotions warred within him, simultaneously telling him to go in the door and walk away.

Finally, he quickly rapped on the door before opening it.

Katniss looked up as he stepped in the doorway, her face registering surprise and her eyes wide. She opened her mouth to speak before closing it again. As she gripped the black lab table in front of her, she visibly clamped down on her emotion, allowing a neutral expression to fall into place.

He realized he was staring, had been standing there a moment too long not to have said anything.

"Hey," he said with a slight wave of his hand. His eyes roamed her face taking in what he'd seen in the picture: a healthy glow to her olive skin, and her hair, pulled back in a messy ponytail, was dark and shiny. She looked good. More than good.

His eyes met hers again as he became conscious of the fact that she hadn't replied. She seemed to realize it at the same moment and her face broke into a look of embarrassment.

"Hey," she said.

The silence was heavy between them. The ease they'd slowly developed over the phone had disappeared. She fidgeted, clenching and unclenching her fingers on the edge of the lab table. He hated seeing the anxious look on her face and knowing he had caused it.

"I came by to bring a flyer," he said hastily. She stood then, so he quickly stopped her, saying, "But I went ahead and put one on that bulletin board right by the front door. I hope that's okay."

"Yeah, sure. That's what I would have done," she replied, still standing. "Where all have you taken them?"

"Um, all over Northeast Plaza, a few places in the Highlands, a few churches. During lunch I put one up at the Avendale pool and at that strip mall near Scott Boulevard."

"That sounds good."

"Hope so." He paused. "So what are you working on?" He gestured to the papers in front of her.

Katniss glanced down a moment before looking back up. "Um, a syllabus. Last winter I taught this Conservation Biology class to juniors and seniors. They asked me to do it at the last minute, so my supervisor basically gave me the lesson plans he'd created. But I think I'm going to get to do it again this winter, so I'm trying to create my own course."

As she spoke, she moved her hand off the black lab table, and he could see the sweaty imprint it left. She glanced and saw it and blushed again as she moved a stack of papers to cover her handprint.

"That's cool," he said. "Did you like teaching?"

"Yeah, I did," she said, nodding. "More than I thought I would. But since we're outside of the county system, we have a little more freedom. I'm not sure how I'd like having to meet arbitrary standards."

He stuck his hands in his back pockets and looked around at the various posters on the wall before turning back to her. "So what time are you heading home today?"

"I have to stay late tonight," she said with a slight frown. "The Decatur birders are meeting."

He nodded, feeling somewhat relieved. He wasn't sure why he had asked, wasn't sure what he would have said or done if she'd been ready to leave. "Ah, the birders," he said. "I'd forgotten about them."

She straightened the stack in front of her as she said, "Why don't I walk you out?" She looked up at him hesitantly.

"Sure."

She gave him a small smile as she came out from behind the table.

"How's the garden?" he asked, as he turned towards the door.

Walking back down the hall, they chatted aimlessly, and he was relieved that they had found a comfortable space for conversation again. He held the door for her and watched as she walked through, his eyes lingering on the curve of her hip. She was wearing cargo shorts, and her t-shirt fitted her waist right where he liked to put his hands. He shook his head minutely to try and clear the thought.

As they reached his car, he remembered something he'd meant to mention to her. "Oh, man, did you hear the Maniacs broke up? I mean, I think they're technically still together, but without Natalie Merchant, I don't really know what they'll do."

She turned to him with an exaggerated frown. "I know! I can't believe it! I'm in mourning."

A split second after the words were out of her mouth, her face froze, stricken. "I . . . I . . ." she stumbled over her words before taking a shaky breath. She turned from him and shrugged. "I guess I've been doing that a lot lately."

He stepped closer to her though his arms stayed by his side. "I wanted to be there for you Katniss. I wanted to help you."

She nodded, looking towards the street. "I know. I'm sorry. I wish I had let you."

"I wish I had fought for you." She turned her head back to him as he spoke. "I'm sorry I didn't."

Katniss nodded again as her eyes searched his face. He saw her throat working as she swallowed.

"We can't keep apologizing, like this, Katniss. If we're going to keep talking, we're going to have to let it go."

She had turned away from him again, and her voice was soft as she said, "Can you? Let it go? Can you forgive what I did?"

He reached out to her shoulder, turning her slightly so he could meet her eyes. "I think so. I want to." A single tear escaped down her face. "Can you?" he pressed. "Can you learn to not push me away when things are hard?"

She was quiet as she swallowed again. "I just feel so much guilt." Her voice broke, and she took a deep breath, trying to hold in the emotions coursing through her body.

Watching her, the remaining cold, hard kernel of despair dissolved, radiating warmth outward through his chest. He took the final step that separated them, closing his arms around her. She sank into him. Her arms came around his waist, and her head nestled into his neck.

"This wasn't your fault," he murmured. "You did everything for her."

"I should have been there," she cried, taking great, heaving breaths. "If I'd been at home, this never would have happened."

"You don't know that. You can't think that way. You are not her mother. You weren't in charge."

"I should have been."

"No."

His hand traveled into the hair at the nape of her neck, weaving into the loose ponytail. He massaged the base of her skull, feeling knots under his fingers. Her hands ran up his back, grasping at his shoulder blades, and all he could think was that he had given up on ever feeling this way again. Yet here it was, the warm wash of being next to her. It felt more right than anything else ever had.

She moved her head away from him slightly, keeping her eyes at his chest. "I pushed you away." Remorse permeated her voice as she shook her head.

"Yeah, you did," he said. "And I let you. I ran."

She looked up at him then, staring into his eyes. He slid his hand up from her neck to cup her face in his palm and run his thumb over her cheekbone. She blinked, focusing on his mouth before lifting her eyes to him again.

"I didn't mean what I said that day," she said quietly. "I never felt that way." Her eyes were bright and moist as she continued. "I need you. All this time, I've needed you, and I can't imagine that ever changing."

He was suddenly shaking, trembling in her arms. Bringing her hands up to his cheeks, she caressed the skin under his eyes as he had just done to her. "Shhh," she whispered.

Peeta felt so exposed under her gaze that he closed his eyes. Her arms slipped around his neck, pulling him to her as his own closed around her waist, gripping her as he took a deep breath. Her hands threaded through his hair, fingernails lightly scratching his skull, and he feared he was going to lose it right there in the Fernbank parking lot in front of god and everybody.

She turned her head and pressed her lips to his cheek. She kissed his other cheek and both of his eyes before he moved his hands to her face, angling so he could find her lips.

They met in one long kiss, her lips sliding under his. He was home. He felt the breath rush from his chest in a sound like a whimper. She gripped him tighter, and he tasted the salt of tears on her lips. He pulled back to kiss away the track they had made down her cheek.

She opened her eyes, revealing the emotions coursing through her. Just looking at her was enough to empower him, to wipe away the fear and insecurity of so many months. He wrapped her up and held her.

"I love you, Peeta," she whispered in his ear. "Only you. Always you."

They had eventually pulled themselves together. The birders would be showing up soon, and so he let her go with a promise that he'd see her tomorrow. He drove home, drained. He trudged his way up the steps, dropped his stuff on the counter, and collapsed on the couch. Closing his eyes, he basked in the memory of her lips on his, her body flush with his.

He was awakened some time later to a light tap on his door. Groggy from sleep, he thought he'd imagined it, but when it came again, he pulled himself up off the couch and pulled back the curtain that covered the sliding glass door.

She stood in front of him on his doorstep looking nervous, fidgeting with her hands. He pulled back the door and drank her in with his eyes.

"I probably shouldn't have come…"

His lips claimed hers and he grabbed her up in his arms before she could say another word, lifting her from her feet and backing into his apartment. He reached behind her to shut the door and the curtain before clamping his arm back around her.

She clung to him, her hands grasping the sides of his face while their tongues tangled. His mind turned off as he became completely consumed by her, the smell of her hair and the taste of her lips and the feel of her body in his hands. The sorrow of the last months drained away and was replaced by a building urgency.

He ran his hand down her hip and grasped her thigh, pulling it up and bringing her flush against him. She gasped, breaking the kiss, as she pressed herself against him. He ducked his head to kiss her neck, sucking and biting his way back up.

"Peeta," she gasped. "Peeta, please."

He pulled back, memorizing the look of desire on her face. She was breathing heavily and her face was flushed. He reached down for her other leg, pulling it up to wrap around his waist. Never taking his eyes from hers, he carried her back to his bedroom where he dropped her on the bed. Immediately crawling on top of her, he claimed her lips again.

She reacted with force, pressing her lips to his so that he felt her teeth through her skin and knew they would both be bruised from it. He grasped high up on her ribcage, squeezing her lithe body as he rubbed his thumbs along the sides of her breasts. She whimpered, and then brought her knee gingerly up his thigh until it snuggled between his legs. He groaned as she gently pressed against him.

He shifted so he could settle between her legs, and when he pressed against her, feeling her knees rise to cradle his hips, he groaned again.

"Katniss," he said, his voice strained.

She pulled him down so that most of his weight fell on her as her legs wrapped around his calves. She thrust up against him. Her words burst out, gasping in a staccato pace: "You. Are. Mine."

Her breathless voice spurred him on. He was consumed by her, wanting to claim her as she had claimed him.

He leaned back and pulled her shirt off. As she sat up, he reached behind her and, with a quick flick, removed her bra, too. He sank down into her, barely humming before he took her nipple into his mouth. He sucked hard, grazing it with his teeth until she hissed, before caressing it gently with his lips again.

His hands ran down her stomach in search of the button on her shorts. With one hand, he pulled the button free and slid the zipper down. He lifted himself and sat back to slide off her shorts and underwear until she lay bare before him. He rose from the bed to turn on a small lamp in the corner.

"I want to see you," he said, returning.

She stood up to meet him and allowed him to look, watching him as his eyes and hands mapped out her shape. Then her hands were on him and tugging at his shirt to pull it over his head. She ran her hands over his chest, pressing kisses in their wake. He closed his eyes at the sensation of her chest brushing against his as her hands dropped to the button on his shorts, quickly discarding them.

Standing before each other, they remained quiet a moment. Katniss reached ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, bringing them closer together. Her heat pulled him in as his hands smoothed down her hips.

Her eyes closed as he reached for her lips again. The sound she made sent a jolt through him. He pulled her back down on the bed and ran his hand up her thigh, groaning as his hand found the wet heat inside her. She stiffened as he twirled his fingers, but as she whimpered again, she pushed his hand away.

"No, Peeta," she murmured, "I just want you. Please."

He reached over to his side table to grab a condom from the drawer, and she ran her hands over his thighs as he rolled it on.

He parted her legs again and buried himself inside her in one, strong push. He heard her moan as she enveloped him, the tight heat erasing every other sense but those engrossed by her. He thrust in a long, hard rhythm, shuddering each time he pushed back inside her.

He knew he needed to slow down, but he wasn't sure he could. Balancing on his forearms, he reached down and kissed her as his hips flexed over and over. Her hands raked through his hair, pulling on the ends and forcing his lips away from hers. She reached up to suck on the skin on his neck, nipping with her teeth. Desire shot down his spine, but he resisted. He rolled on his back, bringing her with him.

"I want you with me," he said. "Come with me."

She began to ride him, grinding down with each pulse of her hips. He watched her body move, her hair falling around her shoulders with each thrust. He clutched her waist, helping her continue her motions until her breath came in short, sharp gasps.

"Peeta," she panted.

With her words he made a final thrust into her, and then grasped her to him as delirious waves shot through him.

Skin sticky with sweat, they traded gasps as their bodies slowly recovered. Katniss lifted herself up off his chest, her hands on either side of his head and her hair cascading around them.

"You," she said, still breathless. "It's only you. Always."

"Always," he replied.

Sometime later, he woke with his body curled around hers. He reached to pull the blanket up over them, and as he did, she stirred and turned to him.

"Are you awake?"

Her eyes were clear. She hadn't been sleeping. "Are you? Are you okay?"

"Yes," she smiled. "Just enjoying being here. Don't want to sleep it away."

He lay back down beside her and ran his hand up her hip and to her ribs. She flinched. "No tickling," she said. She ran her hand across his collarbone, looking at his chest. "I wanted to tell you that I got another AIDS test. And it was clear. I mean, I passed."

The information was not actually welcome. It reminded him of what he wanted to forget, but he knew it was good for them to acknowledge. Nodding at her, he reached for her ear, playing with a strand of hair.

"I also wanted to tell you," she continued, and his eyes flicked back to her face, "um, well, I . . . I went on the Pill this winter. So, if you want to, I mean, we don't actually have to use a condom. If you don't want to ."

As the meaning of her fumbling words registered, he rolled and pinned her underneath him. "Woman! Are you saying we just used a condom when we didn't have to?"

She was smiling. "Yeah," she said, the word cut off by a giggle as he attacked her neck.

"What are we waiting for," he mumbled into her skin, already reaching to part her thighs.

"Oh no," she said, snapping her legs together. "Not so fast this time." She pushed him back so she could crawl on top of him. "This time," she said, punctuating her words with kisses to his chest and neck, "we're going to do this very slowly."

A/N - I've been working on this chapter for six weeks, and when I sent it to BohemianRider, it was a terrible mess. She helped me out so much. I've worked and re-worked it so many times that I'm sure there are new typos in it. So I'm sorry for that.

Whew. Just one short epilogue to go, and this story will be over. I'll get it written as soon as I can. But for now, thanks so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, or sent me asks on Tumblr. I really appreciate all the support I've gotten for this story! xxoo - Penelope