Chapter 11
It wasn't the first time Peeta had slid out of a woman's bed silently in the pre-dawn. But he hated doing it this time, and not just because he'd only slept about two hours.
Katniss was sleeping soundly, black hair tumbling over the pillows, pretty face so peaceful and young looking in repose. He pulled the plain white doona up over her shoulder and kissed her forehead softly.
He'd never been so conflicted about leaving before. Never been so bloody afraid that sneaking silently away would send the wrong message.
Peeta wasn't a love 'em and leave 'em guy, he really wasn't. He'd call himself a serial dater, maybe. Always monogamous. But never with any intention of forever. He had one night stands, sure, but he'd had a few relationships that had lasted into months too. Just never anything serious.
This was different, he knew it deep in his gut. It wasn't a relationship at all, Katniss had been pretty clear that she was only here temporarily, that they were just having fun. But it wasn't a one night stand either.
Or at least he hoped it wasn't.
He sent her a text as he walked out her door, then kicked himself for it. A text. What a bloody impersonal way to tell someone she'd rocked his world. He was definitely off his game.
He'd have to step things up.
By the time Kip came to pick up the day's deliveries, he had a plan. He loaded up the back of Kip's cargo van with breads and pastries for the hotel uptown and the coffee shop, then handed him a carry tray and bag. A tenner guaranteed Kip would bring them to Katniss before his other deliveries. By Peeta's calculations, his little surprise would arrive right in that sweet spot after Katniss was up and ready for the day, but before she actually left for her shift.
He wasn't sure what it meant, that he already knew her routine.
When his mobile rang twenty minutes later, he launched himself at it. "Good morning, love," he said more confidently than he felt.
There was the briefest of pauses, just long enough to make him sweat. "I wanted to thank you for sending me breakfast," she said softly, a little stiffly. As if she was unsure. As if she hadn't expected to hear from him again. "You're very sweet." It sounded like a question.
"Not half as sweet as you are," he drawled. He was flirting with her, he couldn't help himself, but he meant it. She was sweet, though she hid it behind brusque professionalism and forced nonchalance. But he'd seen glimpses. And he wanted to see so much more.
But she snorted, clearly misunderstanding his words. Hearing the sexual subtext.
Not that she was wrong to think that. He'd barely tasted her last night and he was craving more. Already, he was addicted.
"You have to stop feeding me all of these pastries," she said, but he could hear the grin in her voice. "I'm going to be as big as a house."
Peeta snickered. Katniss was tiny, barely bigger than Ollie or Charlie. "I'll help you work it all off," he grinned.
"I bet you will," she murmured, warmth infusing her voice and Peeta felt like a damned king.
"Then I'll see you tonight?" He was pushing his luck, and he knew it. But he hadn't had nearly enough of Katniss Everdeen yet. Not by a long shot.
"I'm working until seven," she hedged.
"I'll cook for us," he offered. "Salads and lean protein, I promise." He could almost sense her argument, so he preempted it. "You have to eat. I have to eat. We might as well eat together. Come by after your shift." She didn't reply right away, so he added, "please."
She laughed, softly and musically. His dick jumped in response. "Yeah, okay," she said.
"Bring an overnight bag," he added, and her laughter increased.
"Don't push your luck, Hotshot. See you tonight."
Oh but he was feeling very lucky indeed.