Coffee and Classics
WOW! I'm amazed at all the interest in this story! I never imagined my would fic be so loved, and so quickly! Thank you so much. This chapter was fun really fun to write, and you get to see Katniss making decisions based on her heart, which is very unusual for her. I hope you like it!
I do not own The Hunger Games.
CHAPTER 6:
Peeta and I walk in silence to my apartment, but it's not uncomfortable. Once we reach my complex, I quickly walk up the stairs, with Peeta in my wake. I pull out my keys and open the door to my apartment, and step aside to let Peeta in. He doesn't hesitate, but his face looks itched in concern. Once we are both in the apartment, and we have taken off our shoes, I put my hand on his lower back and shove him towards my bedroom, the alcohol in my system giving me more confidence that I would have ever expected. Once in the room, I turn on the light on my nightstand and turn towards Peeta. He stands by the door, hesitantly.
Without thinking, I cross the room and begin to unzip his jacket. He reaches up his hand, possibly to stop me, but I smack in away. I gently push the fabric off his shoulders, and he lets it fall to the ground. The shirt under his jacket is a faded Florida gators shirt, and I know it must be old because it's stretched across his muscular chest. I smile a little, admiring the muscles through the shirt. I take off my jacket too, and throw it behind me. With another surge of confidence, I reach for his belt. Again, he tries to stop me, and again, I smack his hand away. I unbuckle the belt, pull it out of the loops in his jeans and let it drop to the ground, next to his jacket. I'm too afraid to look at his face when I unbutton his jeans, unzip them, and pull them down to his feet. Quickly, I turn away and move to the other side of my bed.
Peeta's eyes follow me as I hastily take off my jeans and climb into my queen bed. I look up at Peeta and see him finish taking off his pants, and climbing into bed next me. Once settled, I turn off the light and turn onto my side to face him, only to discover that he's already facing me.
"Thank you for, um, staying with me," I say to him, blush creeping up my face as the alcohol begins to wear off.
"Always," he says simply and forcefully. After a moment, he lifts his left hand to my shoulder, and then slowly and deliberately, he moves it down my arm, and my side, until hands on hip. He squeezes my hip gently, and then closes his eyes. I take a moment to inspect his face, now that it's only a two feet from me, and he can't see what I'm doing. With his eyes closed, I notice how long his eyelashes are, as they cast shadows on his cheeks. Lying on his side, his hair flops away from his forehead, and I see up close the scar he rubbed earlier. It's curved, like the edge of a plate or something, and an inch and a half long. After about minute of examining, Peeta's breathing deepens and I realize he's officially asleep. And soon after that, I begin to drift too…but right before I fall asleep I hear sleepy moan, "Katniss."
I wake up from the best sleep I've had in years, surrounded in warmth. It only takes two second for me to realize the warmth is from Peeta, whose arms are wrapped around me, and whose legs are intertwined with mine. My face is buried in his neck and I feel his hot breath on top of my head. What startles me the most is that I'm equally wrapped around him; my arms are encircled around his chest, with one hand on the base of his neck, my fingers curled into his hair. My intense desire to panic like I normally would is instantly extinguished when the hand Peeta has on my waist slides down and firmly cups my ass. I content sigh escapes from him and my face breaks into a huge smile—my stomach full of butteries and desire pooling in my low…
"God, you feel good," Peeta whispers, and his hands tightening around me briefly. I pull my head away to look to his mouth, and see him grinning from ear to ear. I return the grin, my hand tightening on the hair I have in my grasp.
"You do too," I whisper shyly, trying not to look in his directly into his eyes, but I fail. They draw me in. And they are just as beautiful as they were yesterday, causing me to melt into a puddle.
"Look Katniss, I know I said I wanted to be friends, but I don't know if can just be friends with you. You make me feel…I don't know how to word it exactly. But I can already tell that there is something special here. Do you feel it too?" I freeze momentarily. I've never actually had a real boyfriend, always using taking care of Prim as an excuse, but now that she's fifteen, I can't hide behind her anymore. And I would be lying if I said I didn't want to be with him. But I don't know if I can let him in. No matter how much I like him already. I might even be falling…no. I'm stopping that thought right now.
"Katniss?" Peeta repeats, his voice full of worry.
"Yes I feel it," the words tumbling out of my suddenly dry throat. Nervous, I focus my gaze on a freckle on at the base of his neck, and distracting myself from the silence follows my statement. It's not until I feel Peeta's hand that previously rested on my ass move to tilt my chin up to look at him, that I actually look at his face. His blue eyes are scorching, brimming with happiness, and locked to mine. I quickly see him glance at my lips, and then before I can think of the consequences, I press my lips against his.
And they are even softer than I imagined. Our lips dance together, locking and unlocking, and soon our breathing is staggered. I feel his tongue along my lower lip and I open my mouth, giving him access. Instantly, his tongue is wrestling with mine with passionate precision—both hurried and gentle. I moan into his mouth, loving the feeling of his tongue intertwined with mine. My hands move to his hair, the silky strains moving smoothly through my fingers.
Peeta moves on top of me, gently pressing me into the mattress as he shifts his weight to have his chest press against mine. My nipples perk at the sensation, and I moan again. No man has ever made me feel like this before. I mean, I've only kisses a few guys in my life, but none of them were like this. Peeta is hands down the most skillful kisser I've ever been with. Possibly the world. Everything he does sparks a fire within me, causing a hunger so foreign it scares me. But each kiss causes the hunger to grow, never satisfying it.
It's not until I feel Peeta's arousal pressing against my thigh, that I truly panic. I freeze, fear running through my veins. Peeta notices, and begins to pull away, but not before planting soft kisses on my nose, cheeks and jaw. I sigh at the feeling, the fear lessening slightly.
"I. Love. Being. Near. You. And. Kissing. Your. Soft. Skin," he whispers between kisses. He stops to look at my face, bringing his right hand to tuck my hair behind my ears, supporting all of his weight on his right elbow. "But I have to go to work." He smiles innocently. I nod, flushed, unable to respond without stuttering.
"God, you're so beautiful when you blush," and then he laughs as he sees my face turn into a scowl at his compliment. "And when you scowl. Actually, I think you are the most beautiful when you scowl."
He leans down to give me one last lingering kiss, and electricity shoots through me. I place my hand on his chest and slip my tongue into his mouth, wanting the kiss to be deeper and last longer. He moans as I nip at his bottom lip, then groans as he pulls away suddenly, burying his face in my neck.
"Seriously, I have to go. I can't be late, it's only my third day of work," he pulls back from my neck and looks into my eyes; presses a quick peck to my lips, then leaps out of bed, crossing my room with graceful steps, and pulls on the clothes he wore last night. I panic a little, knowing he's about to go to work in the same clothes he was in yesterday—can you say walk of shame? I bounce out of bed, walk to my closet and pull out a sweater from the back corner. I walk over to him just as he finishes buckling his belt.
"Here. Wear this. I don't want anyone to think…" I trail off, and raise my eyebrows, waving my hands at his attire. I think he understands because he a smirk lights up his face as he grabs the sweater from me. When he puts it on and sees that it fits perfectly, he looks at me questionably. "It was my Dad's."
Peeta's eyes darken and he nods, and then moves to wrap his arms around me—comforting me. He kisses my hair quickly, and I hear him take a deep breath. "You smell good. Like trees and vanilla. It's mesmerizing." I smirk into his chest, and then push away. I don't need to be comforted when it comes to my Dad. I've dealt with it. And I don't want to talk about him. Ever.
"You need to go to work, remember?" I ask teasingly. He chuckles, grabs my hand and pulls me to the front door with him.
"Will you stop by today? And hang out with me after work?" He asks when reach the front door. I'm about to nod when I remember: Johanna.
"I promised my friend Johanna I would go to some club with her tonight," I say defeated, and obviously lacking in joy. He laughs loudly at my tone.
"Well call me later, and maybe I could just sleep over? I've never slept as well as I did last night. It kept my nightmares away…" he trails off, looking down at our clasped hands. I'm shocked. He has nightmares too? What about? He looks troubled, and for some reason, I want to push away his hurt. I've never wanted to do that for anyone but Prim, and I'm shocked at how quickly Peeta is getting under my skin.
"It kept mine away too," I find myself confessing. Peeta looks up to me, surprised at my confession I'm sure, his eyes smoldering like the blue flame of a fire. Carefully, he cups my face in his hands, and slowly brings his face down to mine, pressing our foreheads together. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply.
"Please over again tonight," I whisper. The plead in my voice surprises myself.
Peeta breaks out in a heart-stopping smile. Quickly, he presses his lips to mine, still smiling, then turns, waves goodbye, and walks out the door.
I stand there, replaying all the emotions I've experienced in the last half hour. My heart is practically beating out of my chest.
Fuck. I'm in trouble.