Authors Note: topaz270 had mentioned had mentioned she wanted to see the Booth POV so here it is. Enjoy.
Every day, he noticed something new. They'd both been gone, but only she came back different. Her hair was shorter and lighter as if it was sun bleached, and she had bangs. The way they fell highlighted her eyes and drew him in. Her clothes were different too, tighter, more modern and sexy. Every chance he could, he was looking over Hannah's shoulder to watch her. The way her hips swayed as she walked, how she tossed her head to force the bangs out of her face because she wasn't used to them. He focused on her make up, curious as to how it gave the illusion of brighter blue in her eyes. At times he thought he saw lust in her eyes, envy maybe. Anytime Hannah was around he caught her staring, admiring the blonde's movements and listening to every word. He had tried to suggest subtly that she tell him what was going on, except she had avoided it each time leaving him figuring that she didn't notice her own behavior.
It bothered him, the way she stared at Hannah, but not in the way that it made ihm uncomfortable. No, it was in the way of envy, he wanted her to look at him that way. Like she was thirsty and he was the only one who could quench the thirst; but she wouldn't. Her eyes were glued to Hannah, and a few times he caught her tongue darting out to lick her lips. Even when they kissed, he'd peek and she'd be watching. And once, he chanced a wink at her as if trying to tell her he was pretending those thin lips were hers. He would kiss her much differently than he kissed Hannah; he was reserved and didn't bite back when Hannah drug his lip between her teeth. He didn't play with her tongue when it slid into his mouth and stroked his. But if was her, he'd shove his tongue in her mouth and dominate the kiss, he'd grip her luscious hips and pull her as close against him as he could, he'd bite that plump bottom lip until it was apparent she'd been kissed later. But he couldn't admit to that. It would be wrong, he was with Hannah and she was anything but a prize. He had grown to like her, admire her. She was everything in a woman that he loved, except not. She didn't have near the intelligence she had, her eyes weren't bright and fun like hers. She wasn't her plain and simple. She wasn't Brennan.
It wasn't until he had seen her interacting with another male, a collegue of his that he nearly slipped. He had gone home, grabbed the blonde a little rough and delighted in her excited squeals as he dragged her to the bedroom. They had tossed the sheets around, thumped the headboard against the wall, filled the rooms and maybe even the hall with moans and grunts, and it nearly slipped on his last grunt. With sweat covering his torso, his muscles clenched tight, his jaw taut, he nearly spoke her name. At the last minute, at the tail end of his excitement did he shout the cute blonde's name. He had waited for her to fall asleep before taking a walk. The night air had been cold against his skin, but not enough to deplete the erection he still had because he had faked his climax. The blonde wasn't enough, but thinking of her was. But thinking of her would give him away. It would all come full force to the light and he would have to explain himself, and accept what he truly felt. That his wants were irrational and unacceptable. He couldn't admit to it, to anyone.
Until she pulled him in her office, locked the door and forced him to sit on her couch. She had looked so tired, so burnt out, and yet she looked wild. As if there was something in her that needed to be tamed. When her hand landed on his thigh, squeezed and inched upward, it was too much. His senses were too high so he had moved away from her, and distanced his emotions from his face, but not before he caught the embarrassment hit her features. He listened with carefulness to everything she said, he pictured and analyzed everything she spoke of, form every fantasy to every detail and emotion she explained. When she had begun to apologize, he wanted to wrap his arms around her and force her to believe she didn't need to be sorry. When she ran thorugh the last fantasy, and was telling him to stay away from her he had broke. He had dropped to his knees, his hands grabbing her thighs firmly and beginning to slowly pull them apart. She had flinched, nearly jumped back when he touched her. But he spoke anyway noticing the drop in his tone. He had told her all his fantasies, told her he'd make hers come true. He'd pull her to her desk right in that moment and hoist her up on it. All the caution had lef this tone, confidence embracing every word as it fell from his lips. Every dirty detail, every time he thought of her as he climaxed, every time he wanted to take her against the wall; it all came out in a rush, just like hers had. He all but told her how he really felt. That Hannah was just a prize to rub in her face as revenge for rejecting him on the steps. That he really wanted her, under him, next to him, every day. But before he could, she had taken the moment he took a breath to speak. And it all but devastated him.
Her version of reality, though it made sense didn't agree with him. And when she brushed his cheek with her hand he had tried to lean into it but she was on her feet and at the door before he could. She left him there, to think about what she said, to let it soak in and believe. But he couldn't, he couldn't let himself believe she was right let alone accept it. So he had sat there, on the floor of her office, with an erection, and his mind stuck in overdrive. He didn't chase after her, he didn't call her numerous times or manipulate her into giving in like he usually would. He let her go and decided to agree with her, let Hannah and his relationship ride its way out. And once it had, he'd make sure she knew how bad he wanted her.
The End
