Chapter Four

As soon as the street was a distant glimmer of light, Katara faced this hypnotically handsome teenaged boy. "Who are you?"

He looked at her blue eyes, fierce with determination and a sparkle of excitement. He wondered why she was excited.

"Zuko," he replied. His gaze strayed to her soft lips. He wanted to feel them again. They had been so soft. "And you are?"

"Katara," she stated. "And wh—"

But she never finished her question because Zuko kissed her.

Oh, she felt so good. He kissed her deeper and he heard her moan slightly. Her arms encircled his neck as his wrapped around her.

Katara was shocked when Zuko suddenly began to kiss her. And quite passionately. (Not that she had that much to go by.) Her head began to swim. She felt his lean, taut body against hers. He wanted more, and, oh, she wanted to give him so much. She heard herself moan distantly.

It felt so good. He did taste like chicken and oranges and so faintly of charcoal. He smelled like man and charcoal and soap. He was warm and firm. She pushed away from him slightly and slid her hands across his shirt. She found the buttons and fumbled slightly in her anticipation. She slipped it off his shoulders and her trembling fingers traced his chest and up around those broad shoulders.

They seemed to have a life of their own, her hands. They weaved themselves into his shaggy hair as they kissed again. How did she know how to do this? It was instinctive, this knowledge on how to make him kiss her deeper.

He moved away from her mouth, kissing his way down her neck. She gasped and tilted her head to give him more room. He stopped at her kimono's collar and traveled up her coffee neck, back to her mouth.

His hands ran up and down her back, which arched appreciatively. They moved away from there, spiriting themselves along her sides.

Then suddenly, Katara pushed herself away. "Stop!" she stated breathily. "I need to go back. W-we both do." Her chest heaved.

They began to think and quickly set themselves in order. Zuko buttoned his shirt, flushing at the thought that her hands had been there. She straightened her collar and tucked stray hairs back into her coiffure. He smoothed his hair rapidly. He glanced at her, beautiful in the dim light and breathless still. His eyes rested on her lips, memories flashing across his mind.

"Your lips are swollen," he broke the silence.

"So are yours."

He laughed a little then.

"How do I look?" she asked.

He took her in. The dress covering her slim figure, her face, her hair. He wanted to say she looked perfect, bewitching in the dim light. But he didn't. His eyes strayed to her neck and he noticed a hickey partially hidden under her collar. Staring at that, Zuko found it very hard to remember that they couldn't stay out here, that he shouldn't kiss her.

"You look fine," he answered, his voice a little gruff.

Katara waited for a minute after that, expectant for some unknown reason. She didn't know why but she felt like something should happen now. Maybe it was the way Zuko's eyes appeared. Slightly unfocused and yet not at the same time.

"I'll go inside first," she finally said. She left him and reentered the restaurant.