"C'mon, we only get thirty minutes people," Katniss grumbles to herself as she fidgets in line at the new sandwich shop. She can't help but look at her watch repeatedly while the people in front of her are all at a standstill. She's usually a patient person... well, who is she kidding? On her lunch break, she likes things fast and efficient.

It's just that she heard her coworkers rave about the new place in the mall that boasted freshly baked bread topped with organic veggies. The meat and cheese is sliced right before your eyes and placed directly on your sub. How could anyone go wrong with that? She figures she's currently waiting for the bread to rise.

Sighing in frustration, she decides to give in, anticipating that she'll need to eat her lunch while she walks back to work. Surrendering to the inevitable, Katniss leans against the wall and pulls her Kindle from her bag. She may as well catch up on her novel while she stands in wait at the mercy of Mellark's Subs.

She shuffles along with the line, sensing when the girl in front of her is at least one foot ahead. Her book is getting to a really intense part, and she is actually thankful she has some time to read in spite of her stomach's rumbling statement of dismay. Her eyes close in contentment as she inhales the scent of freshly baked bread. "Hang in there, buddy," she says softly as she pats her tummy.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't hear you." The kind, masculine voice breaks her from the conversation with her stomach, and a flush rises from her chest to her ears. "Welcome to Mellark's. I wasn't able to catch your order."

"Uh... um... I was talking to myself. Um," Katniss stammers as she realizes this whole time she never looked at the menu to decide on a sandwich. The guy behind the counter is all smiles as he waits patiently for her to speak. She scans the menu posted up on the wall, trying to keep her eyes from focusing on the sheen of his blond wavy hair or the glimmer of his sapphire eyes.

"Can I make a suggestion?" he offers. "We have a turkey avocado sub that's been a real hit today."

She tries to turn her furrowed brow into a relaxed, casual smile, but she thinks she probably looks more like she's constipated than any attempt at being friendly. Her face turns to a scowl as she looks at her watch and notices she has only twenty minutes left of her lunch time.

"Yes, that one. The avocado turkey sub sounds great." Quick and easy order, right?

"Okay, coming up," he says with a grin, showing off his straight, white teeth and perfectly slanted smile. All the while, time is ticking.

He leans into the bread warmer and has to reach back further to pull out a roll. She appreciates how his white t-shirt strains against his back and shoulders just right, and his jeans tug a little tighter on his butt as he moves the bread forward in the hot contraption.

Her eyes dart down to the counter when he unexpectedly pivots around. His hands get her full attention as he cuts the bread and opens it wide enough to make her sandwich. She unconsciously licks her bottom lip but not because the bread looks so damn good.

He clears his throat to get her attention, and she jerks her head up quickly to face him, biting her lip from embarrassment. "Want everything?"

Yes, I do!

"Yes, please... oh, but no onions," she adds reflexively.

As he carefully spreads the condiments on the bread, he inquires, "No onions?"

"No, I mean, I like onions, but I don't want to have onion breath at work, you know. That might turn people off from shopping and buying equipment from me and..." What the hell am I saying? "And, um. Anyway… Yeah, no onions."

He chuckles. "Okay, just wanted to be sure I heard you correctly."

Mortified, Katniss looks anywhere but at hottie sandwich-maker guy. Why couldn't she have gotten the girl next to him with the cat's eye glasses and brown spiky hair. She wouldn't have caused Katniss to break out in a sweat and make her share her deep thoughts on onions.

She watches his hands work, delicately placing the sliced meat and avocados onto the bread. His strong, thick fingers move deftly to apply the lettuce and tomato just so. No wonder it takes so gosh-darned long to get a sandwich here.

She speaks up. "You don't have to be so careful with my sandwich. I only have about fifteen minutes left on my lunch break as it is." Her teeth worry her lip again, but it needed to be said.

"I'm sorry. It's a bad habit of mine. I want everything to be how I would make it for myself and forget that people are in a hurry." He points to his name tag that reads on two lines: Peeta, Sandwich Artist.

"Don't you think you're taking the artist part a little too seriously?" Katniss asks with a tinge of humor in her voice.

He puffs his chest, wielding his mayonnaise covered spreader in front of him. "Hey, I'm an artist by trade. I take this job seriously." He winks and finishes packing up her lunch. "Tell the cashier I'm giving you my employee discount today... for the wait."

"Oh, no. No, Peeta. I can't do that. I don't want to owe you anything," Katniss declines earnestly.

"You're not going to owe me anything. I feel I owe you—for taking the time you could otherwise be spending reading a Pulitzer Prize winning novel."

Peeta's tongue wets his lips as he hands her the bag. His smile is contagious as Katniss' eyes soften, and her lips upturn at the corners just slightly at the gesture. "Okay, but just this once," she concedes.

When Katniss finally bites into the sandwich, she realizes Peeta must be an artist. It's the best sub sandwich she's ever had.

It's Peeta's day off, and he needs a new baseball glove for his league game this weekend. He didn't intentionally leave his old, broken-in mitt on the sofa for his dog to chew up; he simply had too many things on his mind that day. Things like helping his dad with the new sandwich shop and studying for his finals, not anything to do with that girl.

It's not like he would lose all sense of reason over a woman just because she has the most silky, black hair he's ever seen. Or that her skin is unblemished and tan, with caramel-colored freckles sprinkled along the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Or that her tongue gently licks her pink bottom lip just before her teeth grasp onto the plump skin right before she smiles. And none of that has anything to do with his decision to shop at Haymitch's Hunting and Sporting Goods at the mall.

Except that it has everything to do with her. He doesn't know the elusive girl's name. He saw her last week, and she hasn't returned. He thought he was charming. Maybe too charming. Maybe he scared the living bejeebers out of her, and she turned, ran, and never looked back. Maybe he's reading way too much into their short conversation about sandwiches.

Haymitch's is a large store with many departments. Once an employee points Peeta in the direction of the baseball equipment, he takes a long route starting with the traditionally feminine sport areas just in case she's working today. He passes through women's apparel, shoes, tennis equipment, and then ends up in the baseball area. No signs of his onyx-haired beauty.

His. He laughs and shakes his head at his apparent possession of this woman he doesn't even know.

He picks up a bat before looking at the gloves, gives it a full swing with follow through. Feeling a bit heavy, he takes the next size down to try. After swinging a few bats and not seeing a sign of mystery woman, he moves to the gloves. He may as well do what he came here to do. He strides to the wall with the different sizes, colors, and makes of baseball mitts. He tries on a few but can't find his size in his favorite brand. He can't change brands. That would just be bad luck.

He looks around for a sales associate to help him check if his size is in stock. Unable to find someone in his immediate area, he moves over to the next department. He's not sure if the hunting and gun guys will want to look for baseball mitts, but he'll take whatever help he can get.

And that's when he sees her. Surely she's filling in for someone today. But as he stands at a distance to watch her help a customer, she seems very capable at holding a bow and arrow. Peeta's mouth falls slack unintentionally, in awe at the sight of this petite, gorgeous woman showing a grown man how to properly load a bow for shooting. And the correct stance. And how to apply his wrist guard. And how to align the bow and arrow for best aim. And...

"Can I help you?" a deep voice startles Peeta from his dream-like state. A tall, good-looking guy stares expectantly at him, waiting for Peeta to speak.

He looks at the employee's badge. Gale, Sporting Goods Specialist. He shakes his head. "No, I'm waiting for her. But thanks." Peeta smiles and leans casually on a nearby rack of equipment.

Gale calls out, "Catnip, this guy's waiting for you." She stops what she's doing with her customer and takes two steps forward, focusing on where Peeta stands. Her brow furrows as she peers over, but her face quickly dons a smile once she recognizes him. She holds up a finger and mouths, "One minute" before attending to her client.

Peeta cringes in embarrassment. "Um, you didn't have to do that. I really don't mind waiting."

A sardonic laugh tumbles from Gale's lips. "Yeah, I imagine you don't." With a sly grin and a wink, he pats Peeta roughly on the back and walks away.

Catnip—what kind of name is that? Peeta wonders, doing his best to look more friendly and less creepy as he awaits the woman who's been on his mind since she came into his store for lunch a week ago.

"You found me," she says, one hand on her hip, the other holding a bow.

"Haymitch's Hunting and Sporting Goods," Peeta reads as his finger moves over the letters printed on her forest green shirt. "It was difficult; I hired a private investigator."

"Okay, you got me." She laughs, and Peeta appreciates the slight bounce of her chest as she does. "So what brings you by?"

He's not only captivated by her natural beauty but also how badass she looks holding that bow in her hand. He feels a stiff leathery object in his hand that triggers a thought. "Oh, sorry. A glove." All of a sudden, at a loss for words, Peeta shows her his glove.

"Oh," she answers dramatically. "Baseball. Sorry, not my area." She points to her badge: Katniss, Camping and Hunting Specialist. She shrugs then turns around, not failing to swing her hips a touch more than he remembers.

"But wait, uh... Katniss?" He hates sounding desperate, but he doesn't want their conversation to end there. "Surely you must know how to check if there's any stock in the back."

"There's a reason I'm a Camping and Hunting Specialist; I know my equipment," she continues, very matter-of-factly. "You should've had Gale help you. He's the Sporting Goods Specialist. Didn't you see his name tag?"

Now Peeta feels like a complete idiot as he nods his head. "Yeah, okay. But Katniss? Oh, and it's nice to officially meet you. Well, you know, now that I know your name, I think I feel more comfortable..." Katniss stares at him like he's from another planet as he mutters his way through his impending question. "So, I really came here to see if you'll go out with me sometime."

There. It's out. He's done it.

She glides in closer to him, her lips forming a shy smile as she takes his baseball glove and examines it. Standing this closely, he breathes in her scent of eucalyptus and mint, so invigorating and so fucking sexy. She radios Gale to assist a customer with a question about baseball equipment, then slides the device back onto her hip and leans in, her voice like soft velvet teasing his ear.

"Meet me at Plutarch's Coffee and Tea tomorrow at five?"

He nods obediently and confirms their plans. "Plutarch's. Tomorrow. Five. I'll be there."

"'Kay," she says as she steps away from him, walking backwards toward her area.

Peeta's unable to look away, memorizing the way her silvery eyes shimmer, how the dark green shirt compliments her skin tone, and how cute she is when she blushes. He's never been hit this hard before, and waiting for tomorrow to come will be miserable. But the agony will be worth it if she at least gives him a chance.

"Here you go, my friend. One large mocha latte with a shot of espresso." Madge places the cup in front of Katniss and shifts closer, whispering, "What brings you here after work? I'm used to seeing you first thing." Katniss' face gives it away as Madge gasps, her hand covering her mouth in surprise. "You're meeting someone!" she exclaims, feeling the giddiness bubbling from deep inside.

"Shh, Madge, let's not alert the media," Katniss snaps, darting her eyes around to see if anyone is paying attention to her overexcited friend. "It's just a meet up. That's all."

"But you like this one. I can see it in your eyes. I'm asking for a break so I can get all the details." Madge and Katniss go way back to elementary school, having been friends on and off throughout the years. But since Madge started dealing Katniss' favorite drug, caffeine, they've become closer than ever.

Madge returns to Katniss and motions to a small table by the window. "Where did you meet?"

"At the mall. He works at that sandwich shop that just opened. He should be here around five, but I wanted to get here right after work to shake off my nerves." Katniss stretches her neck and rolls her shoulders, trying to relax.

"Who asked who out?" Madge asks.

"He asked me," she says, remembering how handsome and sweet he was at the store. "He came to Haymitch's yesterday looking for some sports equipment, but I think he really just wanted to talk to me." Katniss looks down again at her watch. Not yet.

"Then you have nothing to worry about. He's yours for the taking if he went to all that trouble to find you."

"You think so?" Katniss asks, chewing on her lip for good measure. "It's just," she lowers her voice an octave, "I haven't been romantic with anyone since Gale. But I can't stop thinking about Peeta and how cute he is. I just hope he's not turned off by what a dating novice I am."

"Katniss, you and Gale broke up over a year ago. It's about time you found someone new and started moving forward. You know he has." Madge looks down, afraid she might open an old wound.

Last Christmas, when Madge had asked Katniss for her blessing to start dating Gale, she thought her friend was going to kill and skin her with the look she'd shot back. They had a few rocky weeks after that, but Katniss saw how good those two were together, which reminded her why they'd broken up in the first place. So by February, she fully supported their arrangement.

Now, a few months later, she's confiding in her ex-boyfriend's girlfriend how inept she feels about dating. Is it possible to be any more uncomfortable? At least Madge was Katniss' friend first and has her best interest in mind.

"It's almost time, so I'll make it quick, but he seems to be making it easy on you." She takes Katniss' hand in hers. "Do what's in your heart and don't overthink it. Use your instincts, just like you do when you're out in the woods. That's what they're there for—to protect you."

"Thanks, Madge. You always know what to say."

The girls stand and hug, Madge telling Katniss that she better get back to work, when she sees him through the window walking toward the door. Should she sit, stand, greet him at the entrance? Damn dating and feelings of awkwardness.

Use your instincts, Katniss remembers her friend's sage advice.

She sits down, sipping her latte, when he walks over and greets her. "Hey, Katniss. You don't know how relieved I am that you're actually here."

That pearly smile stretches across his handsome face as his hand swipes through his hair. She tries not to sigh and stare and instead attempts to sound like a normal person.

"Of course I'm here. Should we go order you something to drink?"

She begins to stand, but Peeta takes her hand and shakes his head. "No, you sit, and I'll go order." He crouches down to press his lips onto her hand, and that's when Katniss notices the long blond eyelashes fanning over his cheeks. He looks up at her, and she hopes he doesn't expect her to say anything because she's unable to choke out any words after that entrance. "You good? Need another?"

She shakes her head without thinking as the moist heat from his kiss sears itself into her skin, radiating warmth throughout. It's now that she has time to look at him, not as a person making her a sandwich, or the nervous guy asking her out, but as her date. She sips her coffee and watches his movements. He walks heavy, but he has such a strong build, how could he not? His hair is loosely combed so his blonde waves occasionally fall down onto his forehead. The navy blue henley he wears brings out the pink in his cheeks but also stretches nicely across his back, shoulders, arms, and chest. She sighs as she takes him all in.

His brow furrows as he approaches the table, his lips straight in a line as he looks into her cup. "You're almost finished with yours. I'm sorry I made you wait."

"Don't be sorry; you didn't make me wait. I came straight after work, so I started early, actually." She takes a quick glance at her shirt. "I'm the one who should be sorry, since I didn't bring a change of clothes. You look so handsome, and I look like a mall employee."

"Correction," he laughs, "a Camping and Hunting Specialist. And you look beautiful." His gaze sets right on her, unwavering to the point that she feels the need to take a breath for fear she might hold it so long she'll pass out.

"And the Sandwich Artist! What a team we make," she snorts lightly and holds her cup to clink with his. "Did you get tea?"

"Yeah, not much of a coffee drinker. But this is strong stuff. Oolong—no sugar. Puts hair on one's chest for sure."

Now she's imagining what his chest hair looks like.

"By the way, why haven't you come back for lunch? Didn't you like the sandwich I made you?"

"Truth is, Peeta, it takes too long. I like to relax on my break, not wait in line." She bites her lip, hoping she hasn't already offended him on their first date. "I know you're an artist, but people are in a hurry."

The delicious laugh comes from deep in his belly. "Oh, you should see the look on your face right now. I'm not angry or hurt." He takes her hands in his own. "I appreciate honesty, I do. And I know I joked around about being a Sandwich Artist. Truth is, I'm just slow. I like to take my time when I really enjoy what I'm doing." His glance up to Katniss lingers just a bit longer than she's used to.

"So I should ask for someone else, then?"

"Probably, but actually, I do more of the behind-the-scenes work. You know, making the bread, helping my dad with the shop. I was pitching in that day because we had a sick call. I usually only go up front when I'm needed."

As Peeta goes on about his family's business, Katniss traces her finger around the rim of her cup, transfixed by the way the light hits his jaw at such an angle to brighten the bit of stubble that runs along it. As her eyes travel down to the nook in his shirt, she notices just a hint of dark blond chest hair peeking out.

She unconsciously darts her tongue onto her lips between sips but tries her best to keep her attraction for him under control so she doesn't do anything to scare him off. He asks about her job and school, seeming interested in what she has to say. That's better than most dates already. He even throws in little jokes here and there that make her laugh.

Men rarely have that effect on her. Except her dad. He always made her laugh.

Peeta notices the sky beginning to dim as the shadows dance across their table. He and Katniss have already gone through a few rounds of drinks and a plate of scones during the last couple of hours. He's mesmerized by the colors of the horizon, drinking it in like he's been thirsting for this moment all day.

"What's got your attention?" Katniss inquires quietly. "I think this is the first I've seen you at a loss for words."

He grazes the top of her hand with his fingers, his voice dreamily telling her of the sunset's powers over his psyche and how it was the first thing that'd inspired his love for painting. "It's really one of the most beautiful things in nature." His eyes flit back to his date, and his hand squeezes hers. "Aside from you."

During the course of their first date, Peeta has managed to make Katniss blush several times, and he revels in it. There's the slight tinge to the cheeks when he offers a mild compliment all the way to the flush that rises from her chest and paints her face and ears. That usually happens when Peeta pushes the first date boundaries and implies something a touch more intimate.

He doesn't want Katniss to feel the need to cut their date short, so he takes the lead and offers to walk her to her car. "I assume it's across the street at the mall?"

"I'm able to walk myself. I don't want to put you out," she says.

"You do realize this is my ploy to not only spend more time with you, but to make certain that you survive your short walk and can't use death or dismemberment as an excuse to avoid going out on another date with me."

Peeta has his answer when her cheeks bloom, and her lips curve slightly upward. He leaves a generous bill on the table and offers his hand to Katniss, who readily grips it as she stands from her seat. She looks toward the counter and gives a friendly smile to Madge as she exits, not missing her smug grin and wink.

Their hands fit snugly within each other. Hers is strong, but his feels even more steady. Images of her father flash through her mind as they stroll past the shops to the crosswalk. Did he grip her hand like this? He was her world, and when he passed several years ago, she never thought she could go on. But Gale was there for her. They shared in their mutual pain from losing both their fathers in the same work accident.

Until they both healed and didn't need each other anymore.

Peeta notices Katniss become quiet and rest her head against his shoulder as they walk, so he instinctively wraps his arm around her shoulders, bringing her even closer. He thinks he hears her exhale a sigh as she snuggles into him on their walk.

Capitol Mall is an open air mall, and once they cross 12th Street, they pass by some shops on their way to the employee parking lot. Peeta spots a bookshop he's frequented and wonders, "Katniss, do you ever miss the feel of paper on your hands?"

"What?"

"You know, the feel of paper as you turn the pages of a really good book." He releases his arm and turns her toward the bookstore window. "I notice you read on your Kindle, and I honestly can't imagine enjoying that." He takes a chance and embraces her from behind, resting his chin on her head. She doesn't flinch but relaxes in his arms.

"I guess I like the Kindle because it's more efficient. I can carry a whole library in my bag."

Peeta smiles at her constant need for efficiency that has peppered the conversation throughout their date. "But don't you miss that sound of a page crinkling when you turn it or the feel of a well-read book between your fingertips?" His own fingertips graze the wisps of hair that have fallen out of her braid and trace the shell of her ear before caressing her jaw to her chin.

Her head falls back onto his chest, her eyes close from the pleasurable tickle on her face, and her skin awakens to the heat emanating from the strong beat of her heart. She languidly responds, "I've never thought about it that way, but now you mention it, there are some things I miss."

He nudges her braid to the side, timidly pressing his lips to her pulse point. He appreciates the slight whimper that escapes her and calms himself. She likes it. "What do you miss?" he murmurs against her neck, sprinkling kisses along her delicate, olive skin.

"I miss the heft of the book, the weight of a big classic novel in your hands," she says as if hypnotized by some sort of spell he's cast upon her. "And you can see your progress. You don't need a computer to tell you you're halfway done with a book; you can feel it, see it. Your bookmark is a tracker to your progress. I really miss that."

"Peeta?" she asks as she turns to face him.

Use your instincts, she remembers as she falters in expressing her wishes to him.

He stands facing her, looking down into her smoky gaze. He can lose himself in her if he isn't careful, but being careful isn't all it's cracked up to be when love is involved. Before she has time to say a word, he says it for her.

"I desperately need to kiss you right now, Katniss. May I?"

Her eyelids flutter, and she smirks as she parts her rosy lips. "I'll allow it."

When his hands touch her cheeks with enough firmness to keep her stable, but the gentleness to make her melt under his grasp, she understands why he likes books so much. He likes to use his hands. He's a baker, a painter; everything he does is with his hands. And as she's wrapped up in his kiss, she realizes another thing.

He's a master with his tongue.

As he laps over hers ever so softly, his head angles just enough to appreciate every nuance within her irresistible mouth. She smooths the tips of her fingers along the muscles in his back, her nails skating along, eliciting moans she can feel more than hear. The resonance of his blissful sighs reverberate through her body. Like an echo transmits sound throughout a cave, his groans of pleasure resound all the way to the marrow of her bones.

She's putty in his hands, sensing his smile against her skin as he dusts kisses along the hollow of her neck. When he stops and places a quick but delicate kiss on her overworked lips, she sighs mournfully.

"I don't want to scare you off on our first date," Peeta says as his darkened eyes communicate a different message. He runs the back of his hand along her arm and asks, "When can we have our second?"

The thwack from the bat brings everyone to their feet as the ball sails past the left-center fence. Peeta rounds the bases humbly, not one to showboat when he hits a home run, but this one is special. This is the game winning, tiebreaking, walk-off two run homer that sends the Merchant Mavericks to the playoffs against the Seam Swingers.

Once Peeta touches third base, he slows, readying himself for the onslaught. He holds on to his head and crouches down as he approaches home plate when he's attacked. Katniss has never witnessed such a thing, not having been raised watching baseball. In spite of all the hoots and hollers, she worries about her boyfriend, hoping he's safe under that huge dogpile of men.

She stands and paces, fret spreading over her face while the team rumbles around the ground on top of Peeta. He told her when they first started dating that he was a wrestler in high school. He can handle some rambunctious camaraderie on the field, right? But still she waited.

When a very dirty, very dishevelled, blond man arises from the dust, she exhales a held breath that sounds like, "Peeta." Placing her hands over her heart, she walks over to the field, standing aside for him to high-five and celebrate with his buddies. But he strides past all of them with his sights on one person. Katniss.

He approaches her, smiling as he tugs on the bill of his cap. Katniss plays with the end of her braid, bashfully chewing her bottom lip as he makes his move, picking her up and swinging her around in the air. Her laugh surrounds him. "Put me down! You're crazy, you know that?" she jokes as he places her back down.

"Crazy about you," he bounces back, his grin spreading ear to ear. "Come here, woman." He pulls Katniss in closely and nuzzles her neck as she pushes against his chest.

"After a shower, maybe I'll consider letting you attack me, but right now..." She waves her hand in front of her nose,,and he lets out a raucous laugh. "There's too much testosterone in your blood right now. You need to calm down and have a beer."

He eyes her like she's his next meal. "Okay, we'll go have a drink and celebrate, but as soon as we get home, you're all mine." He waggles his eyebrows, and she rolls her eyes, giving him a kiss through dusty lips. "Remember, Katniss. I know that you enjoy a shower as much as I do, so don't play hard to get with me."

She looks around to be sure no one heard what he'd said but grins all the same, remembering the first time they showered together. They'd been dating for a month and had only been kissing and petting up to that point. Katniss had wanted to move forward, and she was sure Peeta did also, but he was too much of a gentleman to push it. So, the ball was in her court.

"Peeta, I'm here," Katniss called as she entered his apartment. She felt intrusive using the key he hid under his doormat, still paranoid that they were too new of a couple to have access to each other's personal space like that. But he'd said if he didn't answer the door to make herself at home, that he might just be showering.

She'd brought a change of clothes for their date, having just gotten off work, and planned to take a shower after Peeta. She went into his bedroom and set her bag down, pacing and worrying her bottom lip. All she had to do was undress and join him. They'd both be clean and maybe, just maybe, she could finally move their relationship forward. How embarrassing could it be, she'd thought. He had felt her under her clothes, knew every freckle, traced every scar, but he hadn't seen her. Nor had she seen him.

But she knew his body, too. She'd seen him without his shirt. That was a beautiful sight to behold, but she had yet to see below the belt. She was vividly aware of the strength of his legs, how the muscles strained against his jeans, his ass, soft and round with just enough firmness to grasp onto, and his cock. She knew how she could give it life just by saying his name, whispering it as he lay on top of her.

She undressed as she thought about him from head to toe, tossing her clothes aside one by one. He was singing a song he must have heard earlier when she quietly stepped in with him. She didn't want to scare him, so she placed her hands on his back, reveling in the sight of his full naked backside. Her plan didn't work as he jumped in fright once her hands touched his skin.

"Shit, Katniss. Oh goodness, I'm glad it's you." His face worked through several emotions before she noted the exact moment he realized she was standing naked in front of him. He stood in awe for a moment, taking her in. "Katniss, I knew you were beautiful, but you are absolutely magnificent."

He grasped her cheek lightly and lowered his lips to hers, palming her breast as he did so. Katniss scolded herself internally for waiting as long as she had; it felt so fucking delicious being pressed up against his wet, naked body. She did what she'd been craving since their first date and threaded her fingers through the trail of wet hairs on the flat of his stomach. He groaned in appreciation as her hand lowered to feel him.

"Katniss," he hissed against her moist skin as she stroked up and down and around his length. His cock was a sight to behold, and truthfully, she had a limited sampling to compare against, but it was perfect. It belonged to Peeta.

It had only been a month, but they were inseparable. Besides work, they were always together, sharing food, watching movies, reading books, playing outdoors...just not having sex. Katniss appreciated his patience. She needed that extra time, and knowing it was on her terms made her feel safe.

So as his eyes closed and his head rested against the cold tiles of the shower, he shuddered in ecstasy as Katniss' name fell from his lips repeatedly. She took pleasure in doing this for him, rewarding him for his self-restraint. And when he warned her that he was close, she debated if she wanted to kneel down and take him in or watch his face at that moment when he lost all sense of reason. She opted for the latter.

It was a spiritual experience watching Peeta come.

It was as if he was giving himself to her, completely vulnerable, repeating his mantra of pleasure, all while she watched and waited. She had an epiphany as his soft breaths fluttered onto her face, as his chest heaved rhythmically, and as he ultimately emptied into her hand.

They trusted each other.

The connection Katniss had with Peeta after only a month of being together far surpassed anything she'd had with Gale. There were reasons they'd needed each other, but it wasn't the mind-body-soul connection she had with Peeta.

So when Peeta came out of his trance and saw Katniss for who she was and what she'd done for him, he cranked off the shower and offered her a towel. They dried each other before he swiftly cradled her in his arms, walked her to his bed, and pounced on top of her to return the favor. Again and again.

They didn't make it to the movie that night.

Bellies full of pizza and beer, the last thing Katniss and Peeta want to do once they arrive home is have sex. While Peeta takes his shower, Katniss gets back to work unpacking boxes. He asked her to move in on their third "monthiversary," as he called it. She had been spending so much time with him as it was, she thought it was the most logical step. She gave notice, and before her rent was due, she was out and unpacking in Peeta's bedroom. Their bedroom.

If she thinks about it too much, doubts trickle into her mind, but she replaces those feelings with her friend's wise words.

Use your instincts.

She takes a cleansing breath and continues her task, placing sweaters and jeans and undergarments in the drawers Peeta had cleaned out for her to use. She looks around the room and smiles. This is her home now, and she doesn't wish to be anywhere else.

Katniss awakens with hands roaming all over her body and warm breath wafting over her breasts and tummy. She stretches, her arms over her head and toes pointed as Peeta explores every inch of her. Her hand rests on his shoulder, caressing it lovingly as he pulls down the thin bit of silky fabric keeping him away from his goal.

"Good morning to you, too," she says with a giggle. "Making up for the time we lost yesterday?"

Peeta huffs, "In the future, remind me not to fill up with pizza and beer when I'm horny for you, okay?"

"How do you know that wasn't intentionally planned?" she teases as her fingers rake through his messy blond waves.

"Would you really deny yourself of this if you could have it?" Peeta spreads her legs and swipes his tongue up her middle, paying more attention to her clit, sucking and licking it until she moans in agreement.

Arching her hips up to meet his face, she relents. "No, I would never deny myself of you." She feels his smile after her confession and is quickly rewarded with his fingers filling her up. Cries and whimpers of pleasure drip from her lips as he does his best work on her below. Alternating the flat of his tongue with the flick of her nub while pushing his fingers in and out deftly, Peeta relishes in her surrender to him.

When he first began giving Katniss pleasure this way, she was timid and had difficulty letting go. But now she trusts him, just as he trusts her, and knows her vulnerability is also her strength. He loves seeing the two sides of his girlfriend, the unrelenting Camping and Hunting Specialist and the one that crumbles helplessly under his tongue. So when her grip tightens on his short locks of hair and her pelvis writhes in quick motions, he knows he's succeeded again.

And as her liquid honey flows into his mouth, he savors it for its flavor and for what it means to Katniss: pure abandon, absolute surrender, and undeniable love.

He moves on top of her, running his fingers through her unplaited hair as she slowly opens her eyes and smiles lazily. He wraps her legs around him and slips in. He never tires of the feeling of her warm walls clenching tightly around him as he slides in and out. He laughs as she tries her best to grab his ass, and when she's successful in reaching it, she squeezes and gives him a firm smack. He swears he gets harder when she does.

She feels him swell inside, teasing her with the head of his cock as he thrusts shallowly at first and then penetrates deeply. She could do this all day, him being on top of her, in her, controlling every sound and movement coming from her body. But as he pumps and she sees his blue eyes clouding over, his movements becoming more erratic, that's her sign to lift herself at the perfect angle so they can finish as one. Together.

As the sweaty couple lie side by side, her head resting on his chest, he strokes her hair exactly how she likes and asks, "So what should we do for our fourth monthiversary today?"

Katniss chuckles at his silliness while her fingers play with the soft hair on his chest. "We could teach each other our trade. You could show me how to bake bread to make the perfect sandwich, and I'll show you how to shoot an arrow."

Peeta kisses the top of her head and nods in agreement. "I like it. The Sandwich Artist and The Camping and Hunting Specialist. Who would have thought we would make a perfect pair?"