This time, there is nothing but us to interrupt us. And after a few attempts, Peeta gives up on talking. The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind.
**Edited and added, since now I can say it without crying.*
My Dad committed suicide on January 13, 2013. He suffered from depression for 10 years, and I was lucky to have him around as long as I did. In his honor I got the last thing he wrote to me on my bicep in his handwriting in blue ink, his favorite color. I’ll miss him forever, and now I’ll have a reminder that he loves me every time I look in the mirror.