The heat of his breath is enticing, and I know that I won't be able to resist for long. I promise myself, maybe until the end of this week, I'll survive. Or the month. But then the feeling becomes stronger, a passion that bubbles inside my chest, pressing into my sternum and sending shots of Serotonin through my mind. I know my feelings are rational, hominoid, emotions that will keep my race going as long as possible. Anthropologically. Ange says he's "just plain hot." Scientifically, he's a fine specimen for the theory of evolution.
If he knew about the tingling sensation down my spine, or the haze my brain flies into when he steps beside me, we might work as a couple. But no, we must refrain. Angela again with her words "Screw it," or some other phrase. It's not as easy for me as it was for her and Hodgins. I've backed myself up, painted the floor so I'm trapped into a corner. My pride is now my enemy. I can't hold out much longer, and I know it. I always go in for the kill. We work together. What would Cullen do? My only hope is for another business trip, one that would take us far, far away. To unimaginable distances.
The way his strong, experienced hands find their way to the curve of my back is addicting. As we work more cases, it has reached lower depths, venturing further down that previously allowed. If he'd done that on our first case, I'd have kicked his ass. It's natural, out of habit now, so much so that it's the looks of my best friend that make me realize how close he actually is. I want more. Gordon Gordon can tell, apparently it's obvious. But I'm not as oblivious as everyone thinks. I know the tension that surrounds us. The way he finishes my sentences, even when we're arguing, and how he pretends like he's only staring at the remains.
I want him to be with me. To have him closer and be protected always. I know to keep or partnership strong however, I must keep being the actress. I must pretend that I'm not aware of us, or what we could be. I must stay oblivious, until the breaking point occurs.