#evillaugh

The voices and the lights recede. I try to ask a question once I think they are far enough away, but Katniss clamps her hand over my mouth harder and just lets out a low but forceful, “Shhhh,” right next to my ear. I’m starting to sweat because I don’t know how much longer I can take being pressed up against her like this.

I’m nervous about being caught and at the same time my body is getting really turned on by her proximity. I can literally feel her breasts rising and falling against my chest with each deep breath she takes, and one of her legs is sandwiched in between the two of mine, and her hips...dear heaven her hips are digging into me just slightly. I fight the rush of blood to my groin. I turn my face away from her, and breathe quietly through my mouth to lessen the effect of her intoxicating scent. But some of the wispy hairs around her braid have come loose and are ticking my cheek and neck. This is torture.

And that asshole, Gale, was right. All I want to do right now, all I have wanted to do since she came downstairs in that form fitting little green jumpsuit that compliments her olive skin and makes her ass look like a delectable piece of gourmet dessert, is kiss her senseless.

I want to kiss her so bad I can hardly breathe.

Slowly she lowers her hand, but instead of pulling away it falls to the middle of my chest. I felt my breath hitch and I chanced a look at her face. She’s not even looking at me; she’s looking in the direction the Peacekeepers went. But I can see her in perfect profile.

Her inky dark black hair covers the top of her ear, but the fleshy little lobe peeks out, just begging me to kiss and take it in my mouth to worship and nibble at.

The column of her neck is straight and elegant, beautiful, with the faint scars that pepper her cheek and run like barely visible jagged swirls under her ear and back beneath her hair, where the infernal mutt’s teeth sank in and pulled at her precious skin. I want to kiss each and every one of those scars. I want to run my lips over them and tell her in between kisses how beautiful she is. Her little nose sits straight and perky, always at odds with her scowling precious lips. And her dark lashes, they spread out thick and with just the slightest bit of upwards curl. I love her bare face, honest and clean without makeup or enhancements. I want to drag my mouth over the lines of jagged scars on her neck and behind her ear. I want to trace their perilous paths with my tongue. I want her to look at me, but I’m also scared shitless she’ll see everything I’m thinking the second she does.

It's a very confusing moment for me.

Then she actually does look at me and I can tell she’s caught me staring. I’m suddenly grateful for the near darkness, hoping that it hides the splotchy blush creeping up my neck and cheeks no doubt.

“We should wait until they leave, or else we run the risk of running into them again when they make their way back into town.” She says.

I bite my lip. I don’t know if I can survive another second entangled with her like this before it becomes very very clear how accurate Gale’s assessment of my feelings for her are. Popping a huge boner before our first date, hell, before she even heard it from my own mouth that I liked her as more than a friend would be one of the worst things to do. And yet, my traitorous body seemed hell bent on wrecking any shot I had of escaping this situation with my dignity intact.

So there you go. That's my take on Peeta getting erections. I'm a mean author but I don't regret my choices. Every time I think of Peeta's tented pants I stifle a laugh and a smile.