A/N: Thank you for all the reviews and support! I hope you all enjoy this final part, this was a fun little ficlet to write. All the thanks in the world to my amazing friend and beta Court81981. There may be a one shot in the works next...maybe lol ;) I'm on tumblr ~ thegirlonpeetamellark

A week goes by.

I don't reach out to him. I don't know what I would say if I did.

I think about him constantly.

I think about his touch, his cock, the way he made my body feel. I have closed my eyes and pleasured myself to the memory of our dry humping session on the couch more than once.

But I also think about what he said.

That he wants me. That he wants something real between us.

Every time I think about this I feel short of breath, a stab of anxiety in my chest.

Peeta Mellark doesn't just want to fuck me.

Things probably would have been easier if he was who I thought he was. He would have worn me down, we would have fucked by now, and he would have gotten me out of his system. He would have moved on, and I would be left to deal with the guilt of sleeping with Madge's ex-boyfriend.

Maybe it actually wouldn't have been easier that way. But at least it would have been a lot less complicated.

The thing that scares me most of all with this whole situation is that there is a part of me that is crazy enough to want to take the risk. There is a part of me that wants to throw caution to the wind and really see what this thing between him and me could be.

But I'm still scared. Still overwhelmed by how intense things are between us. How attracted I am to him. How much he can piss me off. How I can be so affected by him.

The first time I see him since our hook up is at the gym attached to our apartment complex.

He's running on the treadmill, and if he sees me across the room when I walk in he doesn't let it show.

I do 30 minutes on the elliptical in the row of machines behind where he's at, and by the time I get done he's still running.

After a few exercises on different machines I head to the drinking fountain to refill my water bottle.

When I finish and turn around, I nearly jump back, startled to find him standing behind me.

"Um, hi," I stammer out, my heart beating a frantic pace from his proximity. He is drenched in sweat, his hair curling in an adorable way at the ends that makes me want to run my hands through it.

"Hey," he says curtly, lips pursed in a thin line, not quite meeting my eyes.

I step away from the fountain and try to gather my wits about me, but before I can even say anything he moves past me and bends over for a drink of water.

I frown unhappily, not liking that he's just going to pretend there isn't this thing hanging between us.

When he stands up from his sip of water, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and glances over at me.

"See you," he nods in my direction before walking away.

And I'm left standing there, feeling more alone and confused than before.

The next week drags on.

I'm relaxing on my couch, eating dinner and watching TV one night after work, when I hear a rustling at my front door.

I mute the TV and turn to get a better look at my entryway. There are several pieces of mail being slid under the door.

I stand up and make my way over there, grabbing the mail and opening the door.

Only I don't find anyone standing there. I step out into the hall and look both ways, getting a glimpse of the back of a blonde head about to head down the stairs for the first floor.

"Hey!" I call out, causing him to turn around and look in my direction.

Peeta is standing less than 20 feet from me, but it feels like a much greater distance.

"You couldn't just knock on my door?" I ask indignantly.

He shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "What's it matter? You'd get it either way. Your mail keeps ending up in my box."

I flinch, like someone literally just punched me in the gut. I scowl at him and steel my resolve.

"Yeah, I guess it doesn't matter. Why be forced to actually have to talk to me?"

I am fuming at this point, even more furious when I recognize the stinging behind my eyes and the lump in my throat as signs that I might actually start crying.

"Katniss…" he says in a gentler tone, but at this point I don't want to hear it.

I stomp back towards my apartment and slam the door behind me.

Apparently though it's not easy to stay mad at Peeta Mellark.

The next day I see him in the lobby helping Sae carry up her groceries to the first floor. He shoots me a look that says he wants to talk to me, to say something about the other day, but I don't give him the chance.

Two days later he's out in front of the building on the small grassy patch near the sidewalk, kicking a soccer ball around with Sae's granddaughter. He shows her how to kick it and chases her around playfully, picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder with ease. Her long dark hair flowing in the wind and the sound of her shrieks of laughter pulls at my heartstrings.

He was never the asshole I thought he was. He's better than most guys I know.

Every day that passes melts away the reluctance that is still there holding me back from reaching out to him, seeing where things could lead between the two of us.

And then one night, I hear through my window the enthusiastic sounds of a female in the throes of passion coming from his apartment below mine.

For one horrifying moment I want to cry, my gut twisting in agony at the thought of him with someone else.

And then I hear a man's voice that sounds nothing like Peeta's, telling the woman to 'suck his cock.' The pieces fall into place and the more I listen the more I recognize the obvious sounds of porn I'm hearing.

I relax a little, reassured that Peeta isn't with one of those skanks down the hall right now. I close my eyes and picture him naked and hard, working his hand up and down that perfect cock of his with long, slow pulls.

I clench my thighs together at the rush of heat that image causes between my legs.

My hands slip inside my panties, and then I make myself come thinking about him getting himself off.

We run into each other in the parking complex the next day. The parking garage is underneath the first floor of our building

"Hey." I catch up to him as we make our way towards the elevators.

"Um, hey," he says warily, like he's not quite sure what to expect from me.

He presses the button for the elevator, and I watch him carefully. I've missed being able to study him like this. He is so easy to look at. He's wearing jeans that hug his ass perfectly and a white tee that clings to his broad shoulders.

"I've been thinking about you," I hear myself say before I can think better about it.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and he tries to play it cool but I can tell how secretly pleased he is from this news.

"Oh yeah?" he replies with just a hint of a smile, the barest amount of pleased amusement in his eyes.

The elevator signals it's arrived, and we step in together. He presses the first and second buttons for each of our floors. When the door closes, I turn to him.

I hesitate for just a moment before deciding that I need to throw caution to the wind. I can't stop thinking of him, and I might as well tell him.

I reach out and place a hand on his arm tentatively. He looks down at my hand on his arm and then back to me, confusion apparent on his face.

"I've been thinking about you…with my hand between my legs," I whisper, suddenly feeling shy. I duck my head and feel the heat blossom on my cheeks.

The elevator stops, signaling we're at Peeta's floor.

He still hasn't said anything, and when I look up at him, he's staring down at the floor, clearly conflicted.

He looks up at me and shoots me a weak, half-hearted smile. The disappointment is clear as day on his face.

"Guess that makes me pretty damn lucky," he says, but I can see how he has to force the words out. "That's a beautiful mental image," he adds, and then leans forward to place a chaste kiss on my cheek before stepping out of the elevator onto his floor.

When the doors close behind him I'm left standing there to consider what just happened. While instinct tells me I should be hurt or even mad about him brushing me off like that, I can't help but think about how sad and disappointed he just looked.

It dawns on me that telling him I thought about him when I got myself off last night probably only reaffirmed him thinking I don't want anything more from him than a quick fuck.

The elevator opens onto my floor, and I step off and walk towards my apartment door.

When I get inside, I throw my things down, feeling anxious and upset that Peeta and I can't seem to get this thing right between us.

It hits me in that moment with startling clarity. I want more from him than sex. I want him. All of him.

I pace around my living room for a bit, my stomach in knots

Why did I do that? Why couldn't I have just talked to him like a normal person?

With a jolt I realize that mostly it's because I'm scared. Scared that he makes me feel more than anyone else ever has and it's easier to reduce what's between us to just sex without the complication of feelings.

There's a knock on the door, and I jump, racing over to it and throwing it open.

Peeta stands there looking distraught. He is shuffling back and forth, unable to stand still. He looks like he's not sure if he wants to charge me or run away as fast as he can.

"I can't do this anymore," he finally says, running a hand through his hair. "I'm going crazy. I want you. I need you. And I will take you however I can get you."

He steps into my apartment and takes my face between his hands and kisses me with so much passion that I actually whimper and feel my knees buckle just a little.

He slides an arm around my waist to keep me standing and pulls away just barely, so that when he whispers I can still feel his lips brushing against my own.

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

I bite down on my lip and nod my head slowly.

Fuck, I have never wanted anything more.

"Do you want to ride my cock?" he asks, letting his hands drop down to palm my ass, pulling me against his erection. The arousal pools between my legs and it's hard to think clearly.

He steps into my apartment, shuts the door, and lifts me up into his arms, forcing me to wind my legs around his waist. He turns and presses me against the back of my door, returning his mouth to mine again in a heated frenzy of lips and tongues and teeth.

I moan and start rocking my hips against him, grinding down against the very obvious bulge in his jeans.

"Oh fuck," I whimper, as the friction stimulates my clit just right.

He moves his lips to my neck and kisses a trail along the column of my throat. "At least I'm good for something right?"

My stomach twists uncomfortably at his words. He returns his lips to mine and kisses me before I can say or do anything else. He's exploring my mouth with his tongue and rocking his hips into me in just the right way, making me wet and needy and desperate for him to be inside me.

But I can't push those words out of my head.

At least I'm good for something.

Before I know it, Peeta is walking towards my bedroom with me in his arms, laying me down on the bed and stripping his shirt off. I look up at him in a daze of lust and desire.

He goes straight for the button on my jeans and starts to tug my pants down my legs. I help him by throwing my shirt off to the side, while he drops his own jeans to the floor before joining me on the bed.

He lies beside me and leans down to kiss me softly, palming my breast in his hand over the fabric of my bra before moving his hand down lower. He slips past my panties and deftly strokes my clit.

"Fuck, I want to be inside you," he whispers into my ear.

I keen and grasp his bicep, digging my nails into his skin as he gets me wetter and more ready for him.

He pulls my panties off while I work on my bra and then he's kissing me again with a desperate edge. "First, I'll make you come with my mouth. And then I'll slide inside you and fuck you as hard as you want it."

I gasp for air, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. He kisses along my jawline and then behind my ear and down my throat.

"Katniss…" he whispers against my skin, and the sound is so soft and pleading and desperate that it returns me to myself.

At least I'm good for something.

I can't let this happen. Not like this.

"Peeta," I say urgently, pulling him back towards me. I grab his face between my hands and force him to look at me.

When his clear blue eyes meet mine, I see the nervousness and confusion as he waits for me to say something, gently rubbing his hand up and down my arm.

"What?" he asks, eyes drifting away, as if he's afraid to hold my gaze, afraid of what I might say.

"I want you," I whisper, the words leaving me in a rush.

One side of his mouth turns up in a crooked smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He bends down to kiss me, but doesn't say anything else.

"No, Peeta," I break away from his lips. "I want you."

I trail my hands down over his broad shoulders and down his muscular arms. "I want you," I repeat, willing him to understand because I've never been very good with words. "I want this. I want us. I want to see where this could go."

He doesn't say any anything for a long moment, and my stomach turns with anxiety. I finally force myself to drag my eyes up to his gaze. His expression is completely blank and unreadable.

I bite my lip and reach up to cup his face, gently stroking his cheekbone and the ridge of his brow with my thumb. "Say something," I plead.

"Are you sure?"

His face nearly breaks me. He looks so unsure and afraid almost, eyebrows pinched together, lips pursed in contemplation. His voice isn't the strong, smooth tone of the Peeta I thought I knew—the Peeta who could piss me off and sweet talk a woman into anything. It's gentle and calm, hesitant and hopeful.

"Yes."

I throw my arms around his neck and pull him down to me. This kiss is different than all the other ones we've shared. It's full of this buzzing current between us that we have something real and tangible now. It's not just lust anymore.

My heart starts beating a frantic pace at the thought. The realization of what I just did, what we are now, fills me with a happy, nervous energy.

I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him against me until our hips are flush.

He's still in his boxers, and my arousal soaks his underwear. I moan and gyrate my hips against him.

"Please," I beg, breaking away for air. I need to feel him inside me.

"Do you—?"

"Nightstand," I inform him before he can finish asking.

By the time he gets his boxers off and the condom rolled down, I'm panting. I grab at the sheets by my head and twist, clinging to them as my legs part and fall to the side, baring myself completely to him.

He settles into the space between my hips and grabs his cock, flicking his tip against my clit a few times and trailing the length of my folds, coating himself in my arousal before positioning himself at my entrance.

"Peeta," I gasp, placing my feet flat on the bed and jutting my hips towards him as he slides in the first few inches.

"Fuck," he groans, grabbing both my hands and pining me to the bed. As if I weren't already completely at his mercy. As if I weren't already completely his.

He thrusts all the way inside me with one quick motion of his hips and I cry out, overwhelmed by his size, at how full I feel.

He leans down to start kissing my neck and chest, letting me adjust to the welcome intrusion. He is so deep, the biggest I've ever had. I tell him so with breathless pants in his ear.

"Katniss…" he whines, a helpless plea that makes me grin.

"Make me yours," I beg, circling my hips, encouraging him to move.

He releases my hands and sits back on his heels, gripping my waist to pull me into his lap. My back arches in this position, and he hits an entirely new angle inside of me.

"So beautiful," he gasps, pulling me down against his cock and letting his hand trail up to cup my breast.

I place my hand on top of his and encourage his gentle kneading. When I lock eyes with him, the coil of pleasure burns even hotter and tighter between us. His mouth is slack, his body covered in a fine sheen of sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead. I let my eyes wander down his chest and the bunching of his tensed stomach muscles as he pumps away.

"Oh God, Peeta!" I cry, grinding down against his pelvis to stimulate my clit. I press my head into the bed and throw my arms up against my headboard, using it as leverage to push down on his cock.

"Fuck me," I whimper, feeling like I somehow need him even deeper.

He shifts and pulls my legs in front of him so my ankles come to rest on his shoulders, his hands wrapping around the front of thighs to hold on to me. When he starts pounding into me again, it's harder and faster than before.

"Like that. Take it, baby."

I scream, teetering on the edge, so overwhelmed by him and the euphoric pleasure.

My orgasm crashes over me like a wave, and I clench around him, reduced to boneless, weightless ecstasy.

I'm still trembling from the aftershocks when I realize he's dropped my legs and has leaned down over me, pressing soft kisses on my eyelids and cheeks and neck. He's rocking against me slowly, pulling almost all the way out and then sliding in to the hilt and circling his hips so I can feel him everywhere.

I tremble and wrap my arms around his sweaty, muscular back.

"Never thought I'd actually get to have you like this," he whispers in my ear. "You're better than I ever imagined."

He punctuates his words with soft kisses and licks and nibbles on and near my ear.

"I wanted this," he stays, his fingers moving between my legs and searching out my still sensitive clit. I gasp as he rubs me gently at first, letting me acclimate to the pleasure again. "But I wanted you more," and then he bears down and circles it deliberately, simultaneously pumping into me with shallow, frantic thrusts.

I can feel both of our orgasms rising like the tide, ready to crash over us with powerful force.

I want to savor this moment forever, share this intimacy and pleasure as long as it will last. But when he leans down to kiss me, so soft and sweet and gentle, we both succumb to our bodies' wills and climax together.

I have been ripped open and left exposed. I am trembling. I have never felt like this before. Never felt so overwhelmed by the physical act of love. What we just shared diminishes anything from my past. I never knew it could be like this. I'm almost scared by how much it has affected me, wondering if anything can ever be the same again.

I tighten my hold on him, not wanting to let go, not wanting this moment to end.

He tries to pull away once, but I don't let him.

Eventually he insists, reminding me of the condom, and for those few moments his body is separate from mine it feels foreign and lonely.

I hold out my arms to him as he returns to the bed.

Our legs tangle together. My head fits perfectly into the crook of his shoulder. He strokes my back. I kiss his skin. Eventually we fall asleep like that. So tangled up together, it's impossible to think of being separate.

When I wake the other side of the bed is cold.

When I remember last night, and realize that he's not lying next to me, I shoot up in bed, my heart starting to beat wildly in panic.

And then I hear noise coming from outside my room. I crawl out of bed and throw on his white t-shirt that just barely reaches the tops of my thighs to cover my naked body. I tiptoe out into the living room and catch sight of him in the kitchen.

He's wearing nothing but his boxers and his back is to me, facing the stove. On the counter beside him is a stack of pancakes. I can hear the sizzling sound of bacon or sausage frying in a pan. I quietly approach, until he senses my presence and turns around.

His smile is breathtaking. He abandons whatever he's cooking and moves to take me in his arms, leaning down to kiss me so reverently my chest aches. He kisses me long and slow and sweet. His hands grasp at my waist, fingers pressing into me, holding me tighter and pulling me closer.

His tongue seeks entrance to my mouth, and I allow it. He tastes me, moves over my lips and teeth and tongue so expertly and sensually I can feel the wetness start to gather between my legs.

When we finally break away, I am breathless.

"I made you breakfast," he informs me.

I can't help my grin. "I see that."

His mouth descends on that sweet spot behind my ear. I tilt my head back and hold on to him as his hands slide down my sides, past my hips to where his t-shirt ends. He finds the bare skin of my legs, and I shiver from his touch.

"I think I want to eat first though," he hums in my ear.

I don't even have a moment to ponder what he means before he lifts me up and places me on the kitchen table. He pushes my—his—shirt up past my breasts, leaving me completely and totally exposed to him. Then he pulls up a chair and settles himself. He holds my legs apart, and I can barely keep myself propped up on my elbows at the ravenous look in his eyes.

He leans down and laps at me with long, broad strokes of his tongue. He traces my folds, wet sucking sounds from his lips and tongue meeting my arousal.

I cry out and reach for his blonde curls, tugging at the ends as he finds my clit and starts to suck it into his mouth.

"Goddamn you taste good," he says, before sucking two fingers into his mouth and then pushing them inside me.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," I whine helplessly, rocking my hips against his hand, reveling in the feeling of being penetrated.

He curls his fingers just right and returns his mouth to my clit.

I arms finally give and I fall back, my head thumping against the table with a loud thud that I know should hurt, but it doesn't.

He adds another finger and starts to pump inside me faster and harder, his mouth never leaving my clit. With his free hand, he reaches up and palms my breast, kneading the soft mound with deliberate movements.

"Peeta! Oh my god!" My legs tighten around his head, and I come so hard I can't see straight for a moment.

I'm vaguely aware of Peeta pulling me into his lap, cradling my body against his and pressing kisses across my cheeks and down my neck.

"Now you can eat," he whispers in my ear with a little chuckle.

We should probably talk at some point.

The thought flits across my mind for half a second, but I can't really focus on it, can't really consider it fully. I'm too preoccupied with fucking Peeta at the moment

"Your pussy feels so good," Peeta growls, hands on my hips, guiding my rhythmic motions as I rock against him up and down on his cock.

He leans back against the couch, his mouth hanging open, watching my breasts bounce.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Peeta groans, almost like he's in pain. He reaches out and finds my clit, suddenly rubbing it in tight, hard circles.

I dissolve into nothing but pure sensation that breaks me down until I'm trembling. He finishes with a few more frantic, hard pumps and then goes still.

He holds me against him, and then I move off of him so he can dispose of the condom and clean up. He returns to me with a warm wet washcloth and wipes between my legs gently. Then he pulls me against him and lies out along the couch, throwing a blanket over our naked bodies.

We should probably talk now. The thought pops up again, and for some reason a jolt of nervousness runs through me. I take a deep breath and try to push it down, telling myself there is nothing to worry about. We said more last night with our actions than we could with words. We're both in this for more than sex.

"So, umm…"

"I was thinking…"

I laugh as we both speak up at the same time. "Go ahead," I insist.

He grabs my hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to my palm. The gesture is so sweet and tender that I have to bite my lip at the surge of emotion it invokes.

"So…I just want you to know how much last night…and this morning…have meant to me," he begins. "I care about you a lot, Katniss."

I smile and lean up to kiss him softly. "I care about you too," I tell him honestly. "I meant what I said last night. I want this. There's something between us here, and I realized it was pointless to keep fighting it."

He laughs and runs his hand up and down my back, making me shiver. "I'm glad you feel that way. I could only keep up the asshole persona for so long."

"Oh, that was all just an act?" I tease him, trailing my nails over his stomach muscles.

"Yeah, I could see how much it turned you on, so I ran with it."

I laugh, burying my head against his chest.

"But seriously," I say, once my giggles have calmed down, "I'm really glad we're doing this, that we aren't just fucking. It will make it easier—"

I hesitate when I realize what I was about to say.

It will make it easier to explain to Madge. Thoughts of my friend come crashing down on me for the first time since Peeta stepped into my apartment and kissed me last night. It was all too easy to block out that little detail in my mind when all I could think about was how much I wanted him. All I could think about was how good he felt and how sweet his lips tasted.

He must feel me tense up, because he uses a finger to tilt my chin up towards him, forcing me to look at him.

"Katniss…there's something I need to tell you."

I look at him curiously, a nervous, anxious feeling starting to form in my chest. I push it away, determined not to think the worst.

He takes a deep breath. One hand tangles in my hair and the other interlaces his fingers with my own.

"When I ended things with Madge…" he looks down at our hands clasped together, "I told her there was someone else, and I wasn't lying."

I try to pull away, but he won't let me. "So what? You lied to me and you did actually cheat on her?" I can feel the panic and hysteria slowly start to descend on me, threatening to make me lose it.

"No!" Peeta insists vehemently, calming me somewhat. "I never cheated on her. I would never do that. Not to her. Not to anyone."

"Okay, so…"

"Katniss…you were the someone else. It has always been you. It was you since I first laid eyes on you."

My breath catches, and I stare up at him in disbelief.

"Just those few times we hung out I couldn't shake how attracted to you I was, how much I wanted you. I felt like I might as well have cheated on Madge. It felt like such a betrayal to her, but I couldn't help it." He smiles and shakes his head. "I knew it wasn't going to happen though. I knew I wasn't going to be able to just end things with Madge and then ask you out on a date. I realized Madge and I were headed down this road eventually though, so I ended things with her and figured she at least deserved to hear the truth. Then she went to school and I moved back home for a while to help my dad at the bakery. My mom just passed, so he's still adjusting to running it by himself."

I'm speechless, completely caught off guard by this revelation, even though I guess if I'm being honest, I was pretty attracted to him when we first met too.

Of course I felt like a complete traitor having those kinds of thoughts about my friend's boyfriend though, so I pushed them to the back of my mind and simply ignored them, pretended he didn't affect me.

But now, thinking back…there were more than a few moments where I remember the tension between us. He would hold my gaze a moment longer than necessary. I would brush up against him not so innocently.

I'm jolted back to the current moment when Peeta cups my face, looking down at me with concern.

"Say something," he pleads.

I don't know what to say though, so I settle for leaning up and capturing his lips in a kiss.

"I'm glad," I whisper when we break away. "I'm glad that you waited. Things couldn't have worked between us any other way."

"You were worth waiting for," he replies without hesitation, trailing his knuckles down my cheek.

I bite my lip to hold back the emotions, wondering how I ever got him so wrong.