A/N: First Bones fic, I have been reading a lot of Bones fanfiction obsessively, but have not posted any of my own. Please tell me how you think I did.

Yoga and Punching Bags

At first she had just resorted to previous lovers to satisfy her biological urges. But in her mind she was thinking of him. His hands running down her back and cupping her breasts, his waist her legs were wrapped tightly around, his dick inside of her. And a few times too often, her fantasies had become vocal and she had called his name during climax. And even though they had agreed to have no-strings attached sex, her partners had not taken too kindly of her thinking of someone else.

So for a few months she relied on her own hands to relieve herself of some of the pressure he inflicted on her. But slowly it became clear that it just was not enough. This left her constantly unsatisfied and just his voice on the phone was enough to make her wet. So she resorted to strenuous workouts followed by mind numbing yoga and meditation.

She would pound out her frustration on five miles of asphalt and stamp out her feelings of desire as she pumped weights. As she bent and twisted in various yoga poses she focused solely on her breathing and could almost pretend she was forgetting him.

It was absurd the lengths she had gone to capture his attention, to force him to admit to feeling something. She wore low cut tops, tight skirts and high heels she could barely walk in. She dated his boss, his brother, anybody to try and make him jealous enough for him to just push her against the door of his office and kiss her senseless. But he was immune.

He had told her to go with her gut. Even though she had never done so before, she was quite certain he WAS interested. She desperately hoped she was right because just being his work partner and best friend was just not enough for her any longer.

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He actually has broken the punching bag. He just kept hitting it and hitting it, forcing his frustration out on to it when it had snapped off the chain and collapsed.

He paused, mid swing, shocked.

"Hey, Booth man, maybe it's time you headed out." Charlie suggested gently from his side.

He sighed, defeated. "Yea. Just gonna hit the showers first I guess."

He trudged off, work out bag casually slung over his shoulder and his feet heavy.

He took a cold shower. Again.

He can not even remember the last time he took a hot shower.

"Tomorrow," he mutters to himself, "I will tell her tomorrow."

But he doesn't even believe it himself anymore because he has been telling himself that every night for god knows how long.