This is a very short chapter, but I think it does what I wanted it to do very well.
Enjoy ;)
The last thing she expected be doing on a Saturday morning was kissing Gale Hawthorne in his kitchen, but that's exactly what she was doing.
It was probably her that initiated it, but honestly, she couldn't remember. Nor did she care. She was enjoying it far too much to be concerned about the why or the how.
Somehow, they were wedged in a corner and all concept of space and time had been lost to them. All Johanna knew was the present and her present was Gale, that he was there, that he was real, that she was touching him and his hands were in her hair and God, she didn't know she needed that so bad, but she did. She didn't know she needed Gale that way. But it was… it was everything.
Seconds, moments, years later, they separated to breathe. Both panting, both flushed. Gale rested his forehead against hers and grabbed her by the waist.
"Fuck, Hawthorne," Johanna murmured, looking into his eyes, after she had caught her breath. "Have you always been so good at that?"
He smirked at her as he pulled her close and then kissed her again.
"I should've done that a long time ago." She said in response. It'd have been a lie if she said she never found Gale attractive, because he was. She had always found him attractive, but had never thought to kiss him before that day.
He chuckled. "You should have."
"Well, now what do we do?" Asked Johanna. It was truly a sincere question, she really didn't know. She had never felt this way with anyone before.
Gale kissed her behind her ear. "I have some ideas…"
A/N: What am I doing? How do I have so much material all of a sudden? WHERE IS ALL THIS INSPIRATION AND MOTIVATION COMING FROM?
Don't ask me, I'm certain I don't know.
Please let me know what you thought on this chapter! Thanks for reading!