The Third Year: The Heat in Vegas

"We're more 'engaged to be engaged'."

Booth could still taste the blood in his mouth. Metallic and painful. It reminded him of bygone days and brought back memories he had fought hard to forget. Today there was something else in the taste, though, and he couldn't even put it down to the rush of victory.

Today the adrenaline hadn't galloped away with his reason because there was something that had grounded him, something that prevented him from hitting the casino after they had handed over Joe to the local cops.

Right now this "something" wore nine-inch-heels and a crimson red dress that revealed more of her curvy body that it covered. Temperance Brennan looked sinfully good, even though he had liked the black dress even better. The red garment was obviously a disguise, but the black one... he could picture her wearing something like that on a date. It had been somehow classic. Just like her.

When they reached their hotel with the two adjoining rooms, Booth went straight to the bar and poured himself a glass of strong Bourbon, the painkiller of a real man.

With a sigh of relief Brennan slipped out of her shoes, and he had to drop his head a few inches to meet her eyes. 'What a trick,' he thought, as he swallowed the liquor, 'going from sexy as hell to kind of cute with one simple movement.'

Lowering herself to the bed, Brennan crossed her legs and rubbed her feet.

"I'm truly glad that this is not my everyday outfit, those heels are pretty challenging. I think I've gained some respect for this kind of women in the last days," she stated.

Booth threw himself next to her in one swift move but regretted the bold jump immediately, as his ribcage protested vehemently.

"Ouch."

She turned to him with a mixture of compassion and disapproval on her face.

"We should have gone to the hospital like I suggested."

"Nah, Bones, I can take it, I'm a man."

Furrowing her brow, Brennan shook her head.

"Being a man doesn't make your bones more stable or something like that. It's ridiculous to think that not treating injuries is manly. Besides, I don't know if I can stand your whining all night long."

"I am not whining. I merely gasped because the pain surprised me for a moment."

"You have been beaten up by a man that looked more like a machine than an actual human being."

"Objection. The machine man has been beaten up by me."

"Yes, thanks to me, Booth."

He silenced for a moment and shrugged. She was right, and fair was fair.

"You're right, Bones. So you've knocked out the beast."

"I don't know what that means, Booth..."

He chuckled.

"It means we are a pretty good team."

"Oh, we are. And I have to say that Tony and Roxy are a very exciting couple."

"Yeah, we are hot."

Avoiding his eyes, she stated,

"I have to say that your torso looks quite impressive in nothing but an undershirt."

Leaning closer to her, he whispered right into her ear, "'Hot,' Bones, the word you're looking for is 'hot'."

Brennan had to suppress an intuitive shiver at the caress of his warm breath on her auricle, but he noticed it and smirked.

"And I have to say that you are even hotter, Roxy. Smoking hot."

"I'm just wearing the appropriate clothes for our undercover operation."

"Yeah, but there is a difference between wearing and wearing."

"That doesn't make any sense," she answered and rolled her eyes.

Determined to end this strange conversation, she lifted herself from the bed and tried to drag him with her.

"What's up? Where are we going?"

"To the bathroom. You didn't want to go to the hospital? Fine, but I'll check your wounds. Grab the first aid kit, Tony."

He cursed with pressed teeth but followed her nonetheless. His bathroom was tiny, just a shower, a toilet and a sink, and Brennan gestured towards the closed toilet lid.

"Sit down."

"On the toilet?"

"It's closed, and you have pants on, so what's the problem?"

"Well, it's weird."

"Don't be ridiculous, Booth, and sit down. Now."

Her voice was strict, and Booth was surprised by a rush of desire rolling through his body. Swallowing hard, he took a seat and regarded his partner with careful eyes. She was bent over the sink right now, filling a bowl with water, and the red dress emphasized the curve of her ass quite nicely. He let his gaze slid down her legs to her bare feet and was almost overwhelmed by a strange mixture of erotic and domestic feelings.

When she turned around, Brennan was surprised to find him staring at her feet. Quizzically, she looked down at herself. Sure, given her momentary attire she could understand his stare, but... her feet? She wiggled her toes, and the movement tore him out of his musings.

His gaze flew up, and she found a strange combination of... things on his face that she couldn't quite name.

"Pull off your shirt."

"My... why?"

His voice was uncharacteristically high, and she arched her eyebrows in surprise.

"Because I don't have X-ray vision," she stated dryly.

"Yes, sure. No X-ray vision," he mumbled, mentally kicking himself. 'Get a grip, Seeley, this is your partner.'

Carefully, not to add pressure to the aching parts of his upper body, Booth discarded the shirt. When he looked at her again, he caught her staring at his chest with an expression that wasn't clinical at all.

"How does it look?" he asked with a smirk, and she blushed adorably. 'Busted.'

"Not that bad," she finally managed to say, and with the bowl and a washcloth in her hands, she took a step in his direction. And another one. He opened his legs, and accepting the offer, she stepped right into his personal space.

Brennan gestured for him to hold the bowl, and when she dipped the cloth in the soapy water, his eyes were focussed on her slender hands. Booth wasn't used to the sight of his partner with polished fingernails, but tonight they were as red as her dress, and when she wrung out the wet cloth, the action was more erotic than it should have been.

Again, he had to swallow against the lump in his throat, and much to his embarrassment, he felt pressure in his pants. Holding the bowl in a way that it should block her view, Booth could only hope and pray to survive the night.

Oblivious to his agony, Brennan ran the damp washcloth over his bronze skin. So firm, but smooth at the same time. The scent of blood and sweat was in the air, and one more time that night she was overwhelmed by something that she hadn't expected at all.

Arousal.

Arousal so pure that it made her week in her knees, so strong that she felt a sudden dampness in her panties. Earlier that night, when he had hit the final blow and it seemed as if the big man was falling down in slow-motion, she had regarded Booth with desire-clouded eyes and slightly parted lips. Anthropologically speaking, her body had recognized the alpha male and signalized its willingness to couple. Rationally speaking, coupling wasn't an option because he was her partner, her friend and not a hot-blooded boxer.

Breathing deeply, Brennan tried to control her body's reaction and resumed her task. The water in the bowl was rosy with blood now – his and the other man's – and Brennan made a mental note to run an HIV test on him as soon as they were back in DC. There was probably no need to worry, and she didn't mention it to him, but better be safe than sorry.

As soon as he was cleaned to her satisfaction, she dropped the washcloth into the bowl and ran her deft fingers over his skin, poking here, prodding there.

Booth recognized a medical examination when he saw one, but still, with her bent over him like that he was helpless against the images his mind created. She seemed to have forgotten her low cleavage, and right now he had a pretty nice view.

It would be so easy... so easy to touch her breast, roll his thumb over her nipple. To lift her leg over his shoulder and bury his face between her thighs. To spread her, taste her, lick her. Dive his tongue into her hot, wet body until she would scream his name. To bent her over the sink, raise her dress, lower her panties – a thong, maybe a thong? – and take her from behind. Hard and deep and thoroughly. He would be able to see her face in the mirror, her sinfully red lips, her dark shadowed eyes, but underneath the make-up it would be still her. He wouldn't fuck Roxy, he would still make love to Temperance. Then he would take her to bed, and the image of her curled around him like a satiated kitten turned him on just as much as his previous fantasies.

He exhaled a deep breath to calm himself.

"Put down the bowl," she suddenly commanded.

"No! Why?"

He clutched the bowl – his lifeline – in utter desperation, and she regarded him inquiringly.

"Because I have to examine your ribs, and the bowl is in the way. Put it down, please."

Running out of reasons to hold on to the damned thing, he put it down and sent a quick prayer heavenwards.

As soon as he had fulfilled the task, Brennan could see the reason for his reluctance – a very prominent reason – and a soft gasp left her lips. He was aroused as well. Because of her?

Lifting his head tentatively, he searched for her gaze and found her looking at his midsection with hungry eyes. Inhaling a shaking breath, Booth could suddenly smell something in the air between them, something rich, something female, something primeval. It was her, he realized with overwhelming clarity, it was her body's reaction to his proximity, to his desire, and it seemed as if hers matched his own.

"Bones..."

Her name left his mouth on a whisper, and her eyes flew to his face. A rosy flush covered her cheeks, and her chest was heaving as she looked at him with intensity that stole his breath. He found dancing sparkles in her irises and longing so pure that it took all his willpower not to grab her and make his former fantasies come true.

Lifting his trembling hand to her face, he cupped her cheek with infinite tenderness, and for a moment she leaned into his touch. Her skin was hot and soft, so soft.

Slowly, his hand left her face, slid down her body, and for a bold second he grazed the underside of her full breast with his thumb.

Then he dropped his arm, and immediately she missed his touch, longed for more.

Casting his ribcage a quick look, she decided that it was highly unlikely that there were any fractures, and so she stepped back, almost fleeing from him, from this.

"You are okay. I," she hesitated," ahem... I... See you tomorrow, Booth. Goodnight."

She had almost made it out of the room, when his voice stopped her.

"Bones?"

Turning around, she was captured by his dark coal eyes one more time.

"It's fine. We are fine... Sweet dreams."

His words calmed her somehow, and she nodded, leaving him alone with boiling blood and an aching chest.

-BONES-

She decided to keep the dress.

Not the red one, that silky piece of sin was somehow too much. No, she kept the black one because he had told her and not Roxy that she was hot, and because there had been this look in his eyes when she had stepped out of the bathroom.

A look that had spoken even louder than his voice.

After a year and a half of working with him, their relationship was pretty stable, but every once in a while... every once in a while there was that spark which reminded her that he was handsome, and that she was beautiful. Melancholy that mourned the missed moments, wasted possibilities, telling her that someplace deep down, Booth was more than only her partner, more than even a friend.

Your beautiful... whatever she is.

Brennan remembered that line with a smile.

Yes, whatever she was... whatever they were.

To be continued...