Happy Bonesday! This chapter covers The Woman in the Sand, which is one of my very favorite episodes. I'm sure you'll notice that I changed some things to suit my Booth and Brennan better, but they're fairly small changes. Hopefully they're both still in character.

Enjoy and please review! :)

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Chapter 14

Brennan kept a close eye on her partner from the time their plane landed in Las Vegas until they arrived at the crime scene and found one more body than they'd anticipated. The evidence required the majority of her attention from that point forward, but she still observed him through occasional sidelong glances and staring contests.

The skeletal remains were thought to belong to Mason Roberts, a federal prosecutor who had disappeared the day before a mob trial five years ago. Brennan was able to confirm that it was a male in his thirties who had been beaten with something like a pipe or baseball bat, and Booth commented that a beating like that matched the mob theory perfectly.

Only minutes into her preliminary evaluation of the bones, Brennan noticed a few carrion birds circling not far from the tent that had been erected over the skeletal remains. The second body was only a week to ten days post mortem and belonged to a female in her mid-twenties, but the injuries matched those she'd found on the skeletal remains.

They remained on the scene for hours, and Brennan conferenced with Cam and Angela in order to compare dental records for the prosecutor and run a serial number from a hearing aid she'd pulled from the female victim. The dentals matched, and the serial number led them to a Billie Morgan, who had been reported missing by her husband two weeks ago.

Brennan agreed to ship all of the evidence back to DC, but Booth could tell she wasn't particularly happy about letting it out of her hands. He stayed wisely silent but couldn't help a tiny smile at her grumpiness as they drove their rented SUV to inform Billie Morgan's husband of her death. Brennan had her arms crossed and was biting the inside of her lip fretfully. As much as she would have liked to fly back with the remains, she knew that Booth needed her help more than the lab did this time. Aside from the fact that this was a potential mob case, which came with its own dangers, working a case in Vegas would undoubtedly be tricky for him.

He needed his partner and his girlfriend, and she wasn't about to leave him, regardless of what the team might turn up as the case progressed.

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The evidence of domestic abuse that Brennan had found on Billie Morgan had them expecting a rather different person than the one they encountered when they met Billie's husband. Don Morgan was small in stature and seemed genuinely upset at the news of his wife's death. He vehemently denied ever having hurt his wife, and he claimed that they'd argued over money the last time he'd seen her.

Don admitted to having borrowed eight thousand dollars from a loan shark in order to pay for breast implants that Billie had hoped would help her land a job as a dancer. He had given his wife the cash and had never seen her again. Don had been under the impression that she had left him and taken off with the money.

Booth surmised correctly that the loan shark in question had returned to collect his eight grand, and when Don couldn't pay him, the shark or his cronies had broken the man's thumb. Brennan raised a quizzical brow at Booth's quick deduction but remained silent while he talked Don into giving up the name of the loan shark. She fervently hoped that Booth had never found himself in a similar predicament caused by his gambling, and she cringed inwardly at the mental picture of that possibility.

Booth had someone at the Bureau track the loan shark to a local hotel casino, and he steered their vehicle in that direction while they discussed the man they'd just interviewed.

"I'm just not sold on the whole domestic abuse thing, alright? A scrawny guy like that-"

"Rage has nothing to do with size," Brennan interjected.

"I know that Bones, you know that I know that. It's just...I looked into the guy's eyes, and I just didn't see it."

Brennan's attention caught on his first statement, and she wondered briefly about his father's stature. Booth, on the other hand, was picturing his tall but thin partner laying out full-grown men in seconds.

"What about the breast implants?" she pressed. "You know, if she'd gotten them, they would have been a part of her remains."

"Yeah. Well, then the money had to be for something else, and hopefully this guy," he showed her a picture of the man that had just been sent to his cell, "will be able to tell us what it was."

Brennan didn't reply but instead resumed her studious observation of his expression and movements. To anyone else, he would have appeared to be perfectly calm and focused, but Brennan wasn't just anyone. She could read Booth nearly as well as she could read skeletal remains, and it was clear to her that he was growing increasingly anxious as they drew closer to the hotel.

Before allowing Booth to leave the car so that the valet could take care of it, she reached for his hand and squeezed it to claim his full attention.

"Are you sure you're up for this?"

"Of course," he assured her. "I'll be okay."

Brennan would've liked to have kept hold of his hand as they walked toward the casino on the main floor, but she knew that the sooner they tracked down Lou Mackey, the sooner they could leave. She scanned the area for a sign of the man and spotted him quickly, but she then realized that Booth was lingering at the entrance a few steps behind her.

"Booth?" Brennan came back to stand in front of him, blocking his view of the casino. He looked a little wild-eyed and was breathing a bit heavier than usual.

"I just need a minute. I'm okay."

Brennan placed a hand to the side of his face and locked eyes with him. Booth allowed himself to get lost in the mesmerizing depths of her blue eyes, and as each second passed, his breathing came easier. The noisy sounds of the slot machines seemed to be muted, and the panicky feeling faded to a manageable tension. They stood with their faces mere inches apart, unmoving but poised as though their lips might touch at any moment. Booth stared into her eyes for so long that a couple of bystanders actually stopped to watch, but he was oblivious to their audience. He'd found his anchor in her unwavering gaze, and he could find no trace of judgment in her eyes. There was only love, support, and trust. She didn't doubt that he could handle this, and her faith in him made him all the more determined to live up to it.

"Thanks, Bones," he said a little brokenly. Brennan smiled gently and touched her lips to his swiftly before turning back toward the casino.

Lou Mackey was still in sight and was headed toward the bar, and Booth moved to follow, leading Brennan with a hand to her back.

"Look, you wait here, okay? I know how to talk to these guys," he said as they neared the entrance to the bar. Brennan pursed her lips at being left out but followed his instruction and watched from a short distance as Booth approached the loan shark.

"Lou Mackey," Booth greeted him genially as he took the barstool next to the older man. "Don't I owe you money?"

"I'm afraid you have me confused with someone else," the man replied, not making eye contact.

"I don't think I do. My buddy, Don Morgan, he introduced us. Thirty? Scrawny guy? Broken thumb?"

"Do I need to call security?"

Booth grinned and pulled out his badge, placing it on the bar before answering.

"Yeah, you know, that's a great idea. Maybe you can tell all of us what you did to Don and just maybe how his wife ended up dead."

"I don't know anything about any wife," Lou evaded. Booth smirked and tossed a picture of Billie Morgan onto the bar. "She's attractive. I didn't even know he was married."

"How about the name Mason Roberts? I'm sure that rings a bell."

"Whispers on the Strip are that you finally found him. Congratulations. Now leave me alone," he retorted, eyes widening slightly in what the man probably thought was an intimidating expression. Booth merely grinned back at him, pocketing his badge and the photo.

"If you know more than you're saying, I'm gonna find out eventually."

"Do I look worried? I'm a businessman. What are you harassing me for?"

"Ah, you know… Just something I have about bullies. Thanks for the drink." Booth reached around the other side of Lou to swipe the glass of amber liquid from the bar and gave the man a sarcastic salute before strolling out of the bar.

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Brennan was waiting for him, and they left the casino quickly to head back to their own hotel. Booth didn't resist the urge to take her hand as they made their way to the exit, and she squeezed it back reassuringly.

Once they were back in the SUV, Brennan booted up her laptop to check the team's progress on the evidence. Booth quelled the temptation to remind her that they most likely hadn't had the remains for more than an hour or two, knowing that relinquishing control of the analysis was testing her patience.

The team gathered around a webcam in Angela's office to report their findings. Hodgins announced that the scarab beetles that had fed on Billie Morgan had been poisoned by high levels of glucocorticoid in her system, and Zack took a few minutes to run through the list of fractures to both sets of remains that he'd been able to identify so far. Mason Roberts had been beaten with a baseball bat, and his throat had been cut as well.

The injuries to Billie Morgan were more perplexing, and it wasn't until Brennan got a look at the x-rays on her computer screen that she determined their origin. Billie Morgan hadn't been a victim of domestic abuse; it was more likely that she'd been a boxer.

"You mean like a real boxer? In a ring?" Booth asked, surprised at her conclusion.

"But wouldn't boxing gloves have prevented injuries like these?" Cam inquired, referring to the numerous old and new fractures to the Billie's hands.

"Unless she wasn't wearing gloves," Hodgins suggested.

"Well, what boxer does that?" Angela asked.

"Ultimate fighters."

"Ultimate fighters," Booth echoed in approval. "You're into that crap too, huh Hodgins?"

"Dude, it's barbaric. When it shows up on cable, I can't turn it off."

"And it's actually legal?" Angela verified.

"Completely sanctioned. They do wear some protective gear, which would fly in the face of our girl's injuries though."

"That is, unless it was underground," Booth pointed out.

"Underground where?" his partner asked.

"Come on. Haven't you guys ever seen Fight Club?" Booth asked, grinning inwardly at the potential complaints Brennan would have about the psychological aspects of the film. Meanwhile, Hodgins sounded like he was positively thrilled at the idea.

"Illegal, no holds barred, slugfest. Modern-day Panem et Circenses. But generally there's no free bread," he sniggered. Cam shot him a dirty look. "What?"

Brennan closed the connection a few moments later, and Booth suggested they pay one more visit to Don Morgan before heading to their hotel.

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Don claimed to have had know idea that his wife was fighting. He admitted that she'd been a boxer, but that her league had kicked her out more than a year earlier when they found out about her damaged hearing. Booth and Brennan teamed up to antagonize him a little, asking if perhaps the eight thousand dollars had been wagered in Billie's favor and subsequently lost when she'd been defeated, but Don didn't waver from his insistence that he had no idea who had killed his wife.

They headed back to check in at their hotel, studiously avoiding the casino in favor of the restaurant on the lower level. They discussed the reasons Billie might have had for taking part in illegal fighting, but they were interrupted by a phone call from Hodgins. He'd found traces of hexavalent chromium on Billie's shoes and explained that such a thing would most likely be found in an automotive shop that specialized in chroming. Since any mechanic who used the chemical had to file reports with the EPA, it should be a fairly simple matter to track down the origin. Brennan thanked him and ended the call, noticing that Booth's eyes had wandered to the stack of Keno cards on the table.

"Hey," she said, reaching a hand out to gently tilt his chin in her direction. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah," Booth replied, wincing a little at the distant jackpot sounds emanating from the casino.

"Let's head upstairs," she suggested. Booth had finished his meal, but Hodgins' phone call had delayed Brennan a little.

"No, finish your meal, Bones. I'm okay."

"I'm done," she assured him, giving a playful wink before she continued. "Besides, if we get hungry...later...there's always room service."

Booth grinned and followed her to the elevators, deciding that watching her bottom half as she walked was far more entertaining than the card tables they were passing.

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Booth groaned as he was awoken by the sound of his girlfriend's voice, and it took him a few seconds to realize that she was speaking into her cell. Hodgins was calling with the address of the only automotive shop in the area that had been authorized to use hexavalent chromium before it had been shut down. Brennan thanked him sleepily after she'd jotted the address onto the notepad on the nightstand, and Booth's face scrunched in confusion at her next words.

"Tell Angela thank you as well and remind her to be at my house at two, okay? It shouldn't take long… She has a key… Thanks, Hodgins." Brennan snapped the phone shut and put it back on the nightstand, rolling over to face her boyfriend. She was only a little surprised to find his eyes already open.

"What was that about?" he asked curiously, still not quite awake. A glance at the clock told him it wasn't even six a.m. yet, and he grunted in frustration. "Did Hodgins forget the time difference?"

"Probably. He gave me the address for the auto shop we need to check out." Brennan yawned and snuggled closer to Booth. He moaned wearily and pulled her against him.

"Happy Birthday," she purred, nuzzling into his neck to press her lips to his pulse.

"Thanks, baby," he smiled. Booth shivered a little, enjoying the feel of her mouth against his skin. Within seconds, his body was reacting predictably, and Brennan chuckled seductively as she felt his arousal pressing against her.

"You know, waking up early isn't a complete loss..."

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A few hours later, they'd dressed and made their way to the address Hodgins had provided.

"What was the other thing you were saying to Hodgins? About Angela," Booth asked as they got out of the SUV.

"Nothing," she replied, her voice just a little too casual. Booth glanced at her suspiciously.

"Seriously?" he pressed, not believing her for a minute. Brennan was not a good liar.

"Seriously."

"Uh huh…" He decided to let it drop as they stepped into the dark interior of the abandoned auto shop. The vast concrete floor was littered with scraps of paper, and a large black circle had been painted onto its surface.

"Heh, flash paper," Booth said, picking up one of the scraps.

"What's that?"

"Betting slips. Uh… Burn fast in case there's a raid," he explained awkwardly. She merely nodded, and he once more found himself feeling grateful for her lack of judgment. Brennan removed her UV light from her pocket and shined it over the floor. Blood spatter glowed back at them immediately. The floor was practically covered in it.

She took some samples and had them overnighted to the lab on their way back to the hotel casino where they'd found Lou Mackey the day before. As they walked through the noisy area, Booth didn't seem to struggle as he had the last time. Brennan was pleased to note that the tension in his shoulders appeared no greater than the amount he carried on a typical day.

They spotted Lou Mackey fairly quickly, and they interrupted his discussion with a man who looked to be around Booth's age. The unknown man also looked like he would've loved to be just about anywhere else.

"Hey, look at this!" Booth said jovially as they approached. "It's my buddy, Lou Mackey."

"Oh great. So we're friends now?" Lou sneered.

"I need you to tell me where a fight fan can get a little-"

"Seeley?" the unknown man interrupted him. Only then did Booth recognize the face of an old friend.

"Frankie?"

"What are you doing back in Vegas, huh?" Frankie said excitedly, pulling Booth into a 'guy hug.' Brennan looked mystified by the interaction, trying to recall if she'd ever seen Booth hug anyone other than herself and his son.

"Your man's got a lot of friends," Lou told her, eyeing Brennan up and down in a manner that didn't go unnoticed by either partner.

"So it would seem," Brennan replied coolly, shifting her weight slightly closer to Booth, who immediately wrapped an arm around her waist. Lou bid Frankie a slightly threatening farewell and ambled away.

"Is he a problem?" Booth asked his old friend.

"No, no, it's all good. Hey, look at you, huh…" Frankie's eyes drifted to Brennan with bright interest.

"Yeah, Frankie Daniels, this is Temperance Brennan," Booth introduced them. "Frankie and I served in the Gulf together."

Brennan shook his hand politely, recognizing the combined effects of dopamine and serotonin in the man's jubilant expression and jerky movements. She listened to the conversation with a slightly analytical perspective and gathered that the man's gambling addiction had led to a divorce and a great deal of financial trouble. She wondered idly if the man had ever tried an antidepressant.

"Listen, Frankie… You know anything about these underground fight clubs?" Booth asked quietly.

"Yeah, actually I do know one. Bare knuckles, no rules."

"Great. I need to know where."

"It moves around. This guy, Joe Noland, sells eight-hundred numbers. You call, you find out the time, the place, a code to get in…"

"The old boxer, Joe Noland?" Booth asked. Frankie nodded.

"The heavyweight champion in '92. He owns a gym here on Federal."

"Thanks."

"You looking to get in on the action?"

"Oh, you know… I did some boxing back in the day. Thought I might check it out," Booth answered evasively. Brennan fought to keep her expression neutral, realizing that Booth hadn't told his friend why he was really asking or the fact that he was FBI, but the thought of Booth participating in an illegal fight was not a pleasant one.

"Well, it's high stakes. Not cheap to get onto the roster either, or so I hear."

"Got it. Thanks, man."

They parted ways, heading toward the exit, and as soon as they were out of Frankie's earshot, Brennan asked the obvious question.

"Are you planning to fight?"

"I don't know, Bones… I'm thinking it might be just about the only way to get the inside information, you know? Illegal fight clubs are underground for a reason. Everything's secretive. It's not like I can just go flash my badge and question the guy."

"Okay… so what's the plan?"

"Come up with an undercover strategy, see what I can find out that way."

Brennan's face lit with interest, and Booth did a double take at the change in her expression as they climbed into the SUV. Her eyes were bright with the kind of fervor she usually reserved for mysterious skeletal remains and John Wayne movies.

"That sounds intriguing," she gushed. "What should I be?"

"No, Bones. Just me this time," he said gently. "Undercover work requires a high degree of deception, and you're…" a really bad liar "...too honest for that, okay?"

"I can do it, Booth! I can, I promise." Brennan's expression became hopeful and pleading, and Booth wondered if she knew what that particular face did to him. Every time he saw it, he felt like giving her just about anything she might want. He sighed, trying to keep his eyes on the road and away from that face. "Come on, please? I can contribute to your undercover persona. You can even decide what I should wear."

Booth quirked a brow, intrigued at the prospect. It was his birthday, after all…

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Their hotel contained a number of small shops, and they took a few hours to have lunch and select clothing for their undercover identities. True to her word, she allowed Booth to pick a couple of dresses for the occasion. One was black, the other red, and both were revealing. Brennan smirked at her reflection in the dressing room mirror, thinking that her boyfriend was certainly taking full advantage of her offer. She didn't allow him to see the dresses in the store, deciding that it was perhaps the sort of reveal she should do in the privacy of their room.

Brennan left him briefly to put together his own wardrobe and discreetly made her way to an ATM. Judging by Frankie's assessment, this deception would require a good amount of money. He was obviously a man who had won and lost quite a bit over the years, so his idea of 'high stakes' was probably pretty substantial. She decided to pull the maximum amount allowed by the ATM from her savings and rolled it into a rubber band, wedging it between her breasts before making her way back to Booth.

He had finished his shopping, and he gave her a summary of their undercover identities as they rode the elevator back to their room.

"Right, Bones, so… I'm Tony Scallion, originally from New York, used to box in the army. You're Roxanne-"

"Roxanne?" she echoed in distaste.

"No? How 'bout Roxie?"

"Better."

They entered their hotel room, and Brennan carried her garment bags into the bathroom to change and refresh her hair and makeup. Booth spoke to her through the closed door as he got dressed as well.

"Ok, so we're newlyweds. Takin' Sin City by storm… Ready for action." He adjusted the collar of his white shirt and tugged it a little over his wifebeater and suspenders.

"We can't be newlyweds, Booth. I don't have a ring. Wouldn't that be kind of obvious?"

"Oh, right. Okay, we'll stick with girlfriend then. Maybe fiancée?" he asked, trying not to sound hopeful at the prospect of being allowed to call her that, even just as a ruse. The bathroom door opened with a low creak, and Booth watched her step out looking a little nervous.

He felt as though the air had been temporarily sucked from the room, finding it hard to inhale and even harder to remember what he'd said only seconds before. Was that dress that tiny in the store? Booth knew it must have been, but he was sure it hadn't seemed so revealing on the hanger. He was suddenly faced with a new dilemma. He wanted to show her off almost as much as he wanted to hide her away and keep her to himself. He wanted to do what was necessary to solve the case but not as much as he wanted to lock her in their hotel room and make love to her for hours. Jesus Christ, how am I going to focus on anything when she looks like that…

"Is this okay?" she asked, fairly certain she was reading both desire and uncertainty in his features.

"Yeah," he said faintly. "Yeah, that's… yeah."

She walked toward the bed, providing a very appreciative Booth with a view of her back.

"Can you zip me up?"

Booth cleared his tight throat and stepped behind her to oblige just as Brennan's cell rang.

"Hey, Cam," she greeted after checking the ID. Booth knew they were talking, but his attention was focused solely on the expanse of smooth skin he was slowly concealing as he zipped the back of the tiny black dress.

"That's hot," he groaned involuntarily. Brennan glanced back at him with a smirk.

"Hot? Wait a minute, what's hot?" Angela asked her over the speakerphone.

"Uh… Nothing." She giggled a little as Booth brought his mouth down to the base of her neck and wrapped both arms around her waist. "Vegas…is hot. It's...very hot here." She tried to focus on Angela's response, but at that moment Booth captured her lips in a searing kiss, and the world faded away. She snapped the phone shut quickly, not particularly concerned with the fact that she'd just hung up on her boss and her best friend.

"Jesus, Bones… You look incredible," he mumbled against her lips. She turned to face him and wound her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. His hands crept down to cup her backside, pulling her hips into his.

"We should go," she whispered between kisses. "We can do this later, when there's more time."

Booth agreed reluctantly and forced himself to step away, doing his best to breathe evenly.

"We'd damn well better have all night, baby."

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Brennan was seriously questioning her choice of shoes within minutes of leaving the hotel. She had grabbed the only pair of black heels she'd seen that were her size, not bothering to try them on with the assumption that she wouldn't be wearing them all that long. What she'd failed to realize was that they were at least two inches higher than anything she normally wore, and walking was tricky. By the time they stepped through the doors to Noland's gym, her legs were starting to feel a little sore.

"My semitendinosus muscles are already aching," Brennan complained under her breath.

"What?"

"The shoes are making my legs hurt. How does anybody actually walk in these things?"

Booth was in the process of feeling out his character but couldn't resist a grin at her complaint. What Brennan hadn't realized was that the eyes of every man in the gym had turned in her direction as soon as she'd walked into the room. He adopted his best New York accent to reply.

"Well, ya know, them boots, they ain't made for walkin' sweetheart," he answered, giving her a provocative slap on the ass. Brennan's eyes widened a bit, but she maintained her smile as she watched him grin with his tongue protruding between his lips, looking rather pleased with himself.

She threw an arm around his shoulders, and he brought his around her waist.

"Okay, that was totally over the top," she said through clenched, smiling teeth. She knew he'd never dare to do something like that in public under normal circumstances, and she thought he might be enjoying this just a little too much. However, she acknowledged inwardly that she'd never been undercover before. Maybe I should just follow his lead, she mused.

"Alright, well you play your part, and I'll play mine," he said quietly, echoing her thoughts. They passed an elevated boxing ring where a young woman was training, and Brennan pointed her out in a low voice.

"Booth, the girl…"

"Yeah, I see. 5'6", southpaw," he acknowledged, noting the woman's left-handed stance.

"And left-handed," Brennan commented unnecessarily. Booth did his best not to roll his eyes.

"Can I help you folks?" A tall, middle-aged man greeted them from behind the ropes of a separate ring, looking down at them politely.

"I can't believe it, 'Sloppy Joe' Noland," Booth replied, slipping effortlessly into his undercover persona.

"Sloppy Joe?" Brennan asked, looking up at the man and curling her red lips into a sexy smile.

"Yeah! That's how he left his opponents," Booth explained.

"These days it's just Joe," the man said tolerantly. A younger man approached, wearing boxing gloves.

"I busted a lace, Joe."

"Sorry to bother you, Joe, but you know, you had a huge impact on my style back in the army. Ya know… Juke to the body, followed by a right hook? Worked for me every time," Booth said, demonstrating the technique slightly as he spoke. Joe nodded, but the younger man next to him interrupted the conversation again.

"Another army fighter, Joe?" he joked. "How many of these has-beens you get in here a week?"

"At least this one still looks like he's in shape," Joe pointed out. Brennan spotted an opportunity and flung her arm around Booth's shoulders, shooting a sultry smile up at the two men.

"Oh yeah! My man's in great shape, believe me," she gushed, moving against her partner as though she might start stripping his clothes off right there and then.

"Easy there, honey," Booth replied, covertly warning her not to overdo it.

The younger man challenged Booth to show off some of his moves, and Brennan encouraged him, landing a playful slap on his rear end. The wide grin on her face was one hundred percent real, and she was satisfied that she'd achieved a proportionate response to his earlier behavior.

Booth shed his jacket and handed it to her before having a go at the punching bag while Joe held it steady. It wasn't the first time Brennan had watched him lay into a punching bag; in fact, it was something she rather enjoyed watching. This time was no different, and the husky tone of her voice as she praised him was completely genuine.

"What's your name?" Joe asked. Booth pulled Brennan close again and draped an arm around her shoulders, allowing his hand to graze her breast possessively.

"Tony Scallion. This here's my fiancée, uh, Roxanne."

"We're more engaged to be engaged," she said with a sexy smile, their faces an inch apart as Joe asked a follow-up question. Booth indulged in a quick kiss before he returned his attention to the older man.

"So you looking to train or what?"

"Ah, you know… I don't fight no more, but they say you can direct me and Roxie to a little, you know… underground action."

"They say a lot, don't they?" Joe replied with a lazy smile.

"Yeah, well, some guy at the Rio… one of them 'you didn't hear it from me' types…"

"Sorry, can't help you," he answered. Even Brennan could see he was lying, particularly when he exchanged glances with the young man behind him, who nodded at an unspoken question.

"Ah, what did I tell you, Tony? That guy was just trying to hit on me," she purred.

"Well, I do know a number you can call. Not that I give it out to just anybody," Joe said quickly.

"Oh, come on, Joe. They seem like such a nice people," the younger man encouraged, raking his eyes appreciatively over Brennan's figure. Booth's smile faltered a little, and he leaned his forehead to the side so that it touched Brennan's. The sultry tone she was using as 'Roxie' was more than doing the job, he realized, and he didn't particularly like the way the young man was staring at her.

"Ten thousand bucks," Joe announced. "Each." Booth resisted the urge to sputter in shock.

"Whoa, that's a little steep-"

"No, Tony, come on! We only live once, and I want to see a fight," Brennan enthused, wiggling out from beneath his arm and stepping toward Joe. She reached two fingers into the bodice of her dress and pulled the roll of cash from her cleavage, passing it to him with a sexy smirk.

Booth tried to smile through his astonishment at her behavior, and the younger man was thoroughly amused at her antics.

"Nothing like being a kept man, huh?" he asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, I don't know what I'd do without her," Booth replied, putting his arm back around her shoulders. The contact with her breast was clearly intentional this time.

They said their goodbyes and left with the phone number in hand, both feeling slightly high with exhilaration and sexual arousal. The tension seemed to make the air between them crackle with electricity, and once they reached the car, Booth grabbed her almost roughly, pushing her back against the vehicle and kissing her passionately.

In the back of his mind, he knew that this wasn't typically the sort of indulgence she allowed while they were in public and working a case, but he reasoned that his behavior would still fit their undercover personas.

Brennan kissed him back and wrapped herself around his body without a second thought. The deception as well as the observation of Booth's boxing moves had caused her libido to skyrocket, and she hoped he would agree to use the lights and siren on the way back to the hotel. She was nearly ready to rip the black dress off herself.

When Booth finally wrenched his lips from hers, her eyelids were heavy with desire, and each breath threatened to spill her breasts from the low-cut dress.

"Fuck, Bones," he swore, panting and painfully hard. "Let's go."

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Booth struggled with the key card as he pressed Brennan firmly against the door, refusing to stop kissing her long enough to look at the card reader. She moaned and fumbled to take the card from his hand, and he relinquished it willingly, moving his now-empty hand to the hem of her dress and pulling it slowly upward.

Somehow Brennan managed to get the door open, and they tumbled into the room. Booth locked the door behind them and shrugged out of his shirt and jacket eagerly. He watched her hungrily as she backed away from him on those ridiculously high, come-fuck-me heels, smiling her Roxie smile.

"Come on, Tony. Show me what you got," she purred. Booth grinned predatorily and stalked toward her, crossing the floor in two long strides and bending to sweep her into his arms in a move so quick, Brennan felt slightly dizzy as he lowered her to the bed. He groaned against the flushed skin of her chest, pulling the thin straps of her dress down over her shoulders.

"Oh god," he murmured, releasing her breasts from their confinement and wrapping his lips around a hardened nipple. Brennan moaned, threading her fingers into his hair and moving her hips wantonly against him. Booth lifted his head to speak, "Mmm… Does Roxie wanna be fucked?"

"Yes," Brennan pled. "Please…"

Booth forced himself to peel her dress from her writhing body more slowly than he'd have liked. He didn't want to tear this dress, and he followed its progress with his tongue, worshipping every inch of soft skin he revealed as he removed the garment. When at last the dress had found its place on the floor, Booth whimpered a little at the belated realization that she'd gone completely without a bra, and there was nothing between them but a tiny black thong. That could be torn away, and he accomplished it with one savage yank of the flimsy material.

Brennan trembled beneath him and reached up to pull his wifebeater off, tossing it onto the floor. She pushed the suspenders away and helped him shed his pants and boxers, leaning up to grasp his biceps and pull his full weight on top of her.

"Now," she begged.

Booth needed no further encouragement, surging into her with one powerful stroke and bottoming out within her. Her mouth fell open in a silent scream, and she gripped his arms tightly enough to leave fingerprint-sized bruises.

"Like that, Roxie?" he panted, withdrawing nearly completely before burying himself once more. Brennan shivered at his words, only slightly surprised at his willingness to roleplay. She knew he'd enjoyed her Wonder Woman costume, but he hadn't called her by a different name that night. She felt her center throb with arousal at his deviance.

"Yeah, Tony," she moaned, leaning up to push her tongue into his mouth provocatively. Booth returned the kiss with persistent dominance, battling almost roughly until she acquiesced somewhat, sucking his tongue into her own mouth in retribution.

Their hips moved in a steady rhythm, slowly increasing until it was all Brennan could do to keep her legs wrapped around his waist. Sensing her struggle, Booth eased his weight off of her slightly and brought both of her knees up toward her chest.

"Ohhh, fuck, baby," he cursed, enjoying the new depth the position provided. The angle change allowed his erection to connect with a particularly sensitive place within her, and it acted like a trigger. Brennan shouted in surprise as her climax rushed upon her unexpectedly, and as the waves of pleasure crested over her, she knew that a second release would follow quickly.

"Come for me," she encouraged him, forcing the words through her clenched teeth. Booth quickened his pace until he was pounding into her relentlessly, chasing his own release as she continued to spasm around him. He cried out as his orgasm collided with hers, and Brennan felt a resurgence of pleasure as one release bled into another.

Booth released her legs back to their original positions, and he collapsed onto her, barely remembering to keep his full weight from crushing her into the mattress. Their chests heaved in synchronized gasps for oxygen, and when at last Brennan was able to focus her eyes properly, she moved a hand to touch his cheek.

"I love you, Booth," she said softly, capturing his gaze with her gleaming blue eyes.

"I love you too, Bones. Always." He smiled, leaning down to kiss her gently. When he lifted his head, she was grinning playfully at him.

"Happy Birthday, Tony."

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Whew. If only we'd gotten to see that, right? Okay, so there has been consistent smut in every chapter since chapter 7, and by the time I was writing this one, I started to feel like all they ever do is have sex. (I know some of you don't mind.) So the next few chapters will be more T rated since we have some big drama coming.

Reviews make me smile!