Chapter 15

"When I lean my ear up against your seashell heart, I can hear an ocean...roaring inside."

John Mark Green

They were barely through the door to her apartment when she dropped all her belongings and launched herself into Booth's arms, nearly knocking him over. Wobbling just a little, his arms fell around her, pulling her in.

"It's okay. We're okay." Burying her head under his chin, she held him fiercely. "It's over. We're safe and he's locked up. I was there, Bones, walked him down to lock up myself just to be sure."

She'd worried all day, her mind running in circles, in and out of varying thoughts of Booth. Helping him find Broadsky her primary concern, always a starting point, but then her thoughts would wander and she'd get lost in their many shared experiences, the changes taking place between them. The feel on his body pressed against hers, over her, under her, around her. It was so real, an almost tactile memory which eventually brought her back to the, also very real, danger he was in and her need to focus so she could help keep him safe.

Safe.

He was safe.

Shaw's phone call, the notification that Broadsky was in custody, the relief she felt upon hearing it, was immeasurable. Still, she wanted to talk to him, hear his voice, hold him in her arms, quantify his safety. It was irrational, she told herself, he was busy, she was busy, knowing that he was out of danger and unharmed should be enough. It had to be enough, otherwise, how would they survive, how could she survive the uncertainty of the day to day dangers they faced in their profession. Like so many other times in her life, she would force it to be enough. Moving quickly to the next emotional land mine, she busied herself with preparations for an informal farewell to Mr. Vincent Nigel-Murray.

Pulling him in closer, she clung to his chest and forced herself to breathe.

"It's over." Whispering this time, he answered her tight hold on him with softness, his hands running up and down her arms and back. "I'm here. We're here...together, okay? It's over."

It wasn't until she walked up to the loading dock and heard him telling Angela that he barely knew the young English intern that the depth of her need hit her, an overwhelming wave of emotion, not just one, all of them, every emotion, every thought, every worry, every relief, all at once and she stopped, clinging to that plant like it was some kind of life preserver, and steeled her expressions. Compartmentalize, she commanded herself. Compartmentalize. They weren't alone, not remotely, and she couldn't act on her impulse, she had to hold it in, wait, for this, to be alone with him, like this.

"Hey, hey," grabbing her by the shoulders he pulled her back just a little, just enough to catch her gaze. "Hey, you know what you need? A bath, a long, hot, soaking bath. I'll run it for you, okay? It'll be good, get you all warmed up and relaxed, and maybe we can order in some food, I know you and I bet you haven't eaten all day, you must be hungry, right? I'm starved."

"And a drink," she added. He laughed.

"And a drink, God, yes, a drink." He laughed again. "You get the drinks and I'll get the bath."

He watched her walk away before making his way to her bathroom, leaving his suit coat on a chair in her bedroom and rolling up his sleeves as he went. They hadn't talked, not really, not since they left his apartment early in the morning, and it weighed on him. Not seeing each other, not talking about this huge thing that changed between them, meant he didn't really know where she was with all of it, where her head was. Well, except for the glances she gave him as they stood around her intern's coffin and the way she linked her arm through his before they headed back into the lab. The quiet way she asked him to take her home, that was significant, enough to let him know she was still with him, but he wanted more, knowing this wasn't going to be an easy transition for them.

Smoothing his tie down against his chest, he held it as he leaned down and plugged the tub, turned the water on, and adjusted it to just the right temperature. He felt guilty, just a little, for expecting her to run away. It's just that's what she did, in the past, she always had, always, and, God, he didn't think he could handle it if she backpedaled like that. If that was going to happen, he wanted to see it coming, he wanted a fighting chance, enough time to convince her to stay, to not give up on him, on them. His fingers drifted underneath the water, testing it again before he shook his hand off and stood up. He shouldn't worry. It was her that asked him to take her home, her that broke the silence of the long drive to her apartment with one, emotion-filled plea, "stay." She asked him. That was a good sign, had to be.

"Right." Muttering to himself, Booth looked around the spacious bathroom.

There were candles scattered on counters and decorative shelves and even around the tub itself. Pulling out his lighter, he set to work, deciding dim light would be peaceful after such a long couple of days. He was looking around at the warm flickering light when she stepped quietly into the room wearing a silky, pale pink robe and carrying a bottle of scotch and two tumblers. She lifted them a little as an offering.

Transfixed, he was slow to speak. "Hey." His hands reached, taking the bottle and glasses from her, he set them down on the tile ledge that surrounded her large jacuzzi tub.

He couldn't resist the pull of her and found himself stepping in closer, his hands lightly brushing her hips, his fingers twitching against the cool, smooth fabric, his light touch tickling.

"You ready?" Stumbling over his words, he offered to go order food for them while she took a good long soak.

"Don't go." She interrupted, her voice confident but soft, her nimble fingers already working on his tie, "I want you to stay." Those eyes, her eyes, held him and he swore he couldn't breathe.

Nodding, he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as she watched intently. Hands wandering down the rounded curve of her hips, he felt the slip of the silk along her bare skin. His heart raced. Closing his eyes momentarily, he let himself get lost in the feel of her undressing him, overwhelmed by the thought of her wanting to be with him in this way. A year ago he'd given up on that, on them, on this ever happening, but here he was, with her and it was happening, had happened.

Making love to her in the early hours of the morning, it was driven, the desperate act of two people jolted awake by the knowledge that they nearly lost each other. It was powered by their need to connect in the most elemental way, to not just try to be one, but to actually become one, because they had to, to survive, at least that's what it felt like. In that desperation he caught glimpses, images that flashed, connecting what he saw to the feel of her body in his hands, against his skin, underneath his lips. But, standing with her now, like this, he was overcome by the desire for more, to see her, all of her.

Pushing the shirt off his shoulders, she let it fall to the floor, bringing her hands quickly back to run over the strong planes of his chest, and as he watched her eyes study him, he wondered if she was feeling it too. She barely paused before she went to work on his pants, looking up at him briefly, and while part of him wanted to luxuriate in the feel of that moment, he was driven by his own insatiable need.

It was a simple touch at first, the back of his knuckles down the long stretch of her neck, and she stopped, her whole being paused, she even held her breath briefly as his fingers played with the soft edge of her robe. And when his hand slid under the edge she gasped, quick, quiet, like she was trying to control it as she waited for more, his hand slowly pushed that satiny fabric out of the way, enough so he could see her delicate collarbone and the hollow that fell just above it. Then farther, to reveal her whole shoulder. Stepping a little closer, he laid a kiss there, pleased with the shiver that ran through her and the sweet sounds of approval she offered him. God, she was addictive, all of her, and this, the feel of that silky robe, the slow reveal of her body, the involuntary sounds of pleasure she made, he wanted it all.

Cam once told him that he had to be sure about Bones, about his feelings for her, before he confessed them, pursued them, because if he went down that road and then changed his mind, he'd ruin her. She'd never trust anyone ever again. But, after last night he was sure Cam got it wrong. It was him that was lost, ruined. There could never be, would never be, another woman for him. He was sure of it.

Reaching for the tie to her robe, he played with it while she undid his belt, the button to his trousers, his zipper, pausing only to step out of his pants as they fell to the floor. One tug and the soft bow came apart, the robe fell loose, barely covering her. The feel of her hand pushing his boxers down, the way the robe slipped off her shoulders, floating down her body until it rested there with his pants and shirt.

"We better get in that bath, Bones...now...or I swear to God, it's not gonna happen." Chuckling lightly, her beautiful low, guttural laughter echoed in his ears. She had no idea the effect she on him, the little things that undid him.

Glancing between him and the tub, she motioned first with her head then tugged on his hand. They stepped in, sinking deep into the warm water, and she was reminded how physically taxing his work was on his battered body when he let out a loud moan of relief. Reaching past him, she pressed a button on the side of the tub and the bubbles sprang to life, water beating against his flesh from almost every angle.

"Oh, God," he mumbled, "that feels good."

He didn't see her shake her head slightly at his exaggerated response or her soft smile, his eyes were closed. So, when he felt her hands grab ahold of his calf he was surprised and resisted momentarily as she pulled to guide his leg.

"Trust me." Her voice was firm but tender and he relaxed as she guided one leg and then the other so the bottoms of his feet were directly over the jets on either side of her. Watching his expression was magic. She often contemplated the benefits a jetted tub might offer Booth. It was funny to her that she studied ancient cultures and peoples, but was more modern than Booth in many ways. She enjoyed the conveniences technological advances afforded while he was fascinated with antiques. The old way of doing things, black coffee brewed, percolated, in an old fashioned coffee pot, traditional values and mores, old phones and refrigerators, cars, old apartments and pipes and bathtubs, his being an old enamel covered, cast iron clawfoot, with no jets. "Better?" She whispered.

"Well, yeah, much better." Opening his eyes, he found her staring at him, she looked, God, he didn't know, it wasn't lost or sad, but it was definitely something. "You okay?"

"Yes." Her head dipped, her gaze falling to her hands as they moved back and forth in the water. Guilty. He sat up and the water whooshed around them lapping up on the edges of the tub. Swallowing hard, she took a deep breath, and confessed. "I told Angela." It seemed like a long pause, which made her nervous. He didn't know what he was expecting her to say, but that wasn't it. "I didn't mean to," she rushed to explain. "I mean, It just sorta popped out when she asked me if I was distracted by Mr. Nigel-Murray's dea-"

"It's okay." He rushed to reassure her.

"But, it's ours, we talked about this being ours and that we weren't going to tell anyo-"

"Bones."

"She just has this way." Exasperation filled her tone, exasperation, and defeat. It was Angela's way that worried Booth. He knew her, knew she'd want every little detail she could weasel out of Bones.

"She's your best friend." It came out unintentionally terse.

"Still."

"It's okay...it's okay, you know because ours means it's not just mine, right, it's yours too and if you want to share it or need to share it, then that's okay, alright? It's okay." She wasn't sure whether he was trying to convince her or himself.

"She swore she wouldn't tell anyone."

"She told you that." His voice relaxed a little. "Yes, except Hodgins...because they're married which she said means they have an obligation to share."

"She's right. Two people in a committed relationship tell each other things, that's true."

"But she's not going to tell anyone else until I tell her it's okay. She promised."

"That's good." But he hesitated and she caught it, he saw it in her reaction. "I mean, I just need to know if she's going to so I can handle it with Hacker. He needs to hear it from me, you know, I don't want him finding out from someone else." This was a test, he was sure of it, the first of many times they'd need to talk things through, communicate, come to an understanding or compromise. He needed her to feel safe and comfortable about doing that with him. Grabbing her by the hand, he tugged lightly, pulling her in to settle between his legs, against his chest.

"How much did you tell her...about, you know, last night?" Craning her head, she looked up at him, water dripping from her as she rose up a little.

"You mean details?"

"Yeah, details." He cringed at the word. Details. Bones, she had no problem being open about her sex life, it nearly drove him crazy, years of stories, her telling him about her and other men. It was torture.

"None. No details." Taking a long staggered breath, she exhaled sharply and settled back down into his arms, speaking softly. "I know how private you are about sexual matters...and...and...I believe that the details are definitely ours and as such should be kept largely between us." She could feel his body relax beneath her as she lay quietly in his arms. His hands moving now, sliding along the edges of her, scooping warm water over her exposed shoulders. "Besides, I don't know what I would have said, how to…it was...last night was...different. I've never experienced anything...like that...it was more..." Her breath became heavier as she struggled to put her thoughts into words. Pushing against his chest, she sat up enough to see him, to search his eyes.

"It was, Bones. It was more."

She was looking for something, he could see it, but he didn't know what, didn't know how to answer whatever it was, a doubt, a fear, a comparison. And he wasn't sure, but he thought maybe she wanted to know if it was always like that for him, with other women, because he saw something flash in her eyes, a worry, a concern, that maybe the experience they shared, being together, intimately, was new for her, but not for him, that he'd shared something that intense with someone else, not her. And he wanted to answer that, wanted her to know that it was different, not just for her, for him too, that it was the most profound sexual experience of his life, the deepest connection he'd ever felt, with anyone. But, she launched into another question so quickly he missed his moment.

"Will...will making love always be like that for us?" There was an honesty in there, a childlike innocence he always found when she turned to him for understanding she couldn't find on her own. It made him stop, pause, think about what she was asking.

Making love.

She said it, making love. Not intercourse or coitus or copulation or fornication, though that was a bit too biblical for her, it was a terms she used in the past. Point was, she didn't use any distancing term, she used his term, making love, and more than anything he wanted to tell her yes, God, yes, but it wasn't that simple. Sitting up, they adjusted, their bodies tangling together as they huddled close. His hand floated up her arm, across her shoulder, his fingers gently sweeping her bangs and the wet wisps of hair glued to her forehead and cheeks back out of the way.

"I don't know, Bones." Truth, he always tried to tell her the truth. "I mean, I think each time will be different. Maybe sometimes, like last night, when we're scared because we almost lost each other, yeah, it might be like that. I think it'll always be intense with us, because of who we are, our personalities, we're both so physical and passionate, about everything, you know. Very passionate."

"Passionate. Yes." That's how she'd imagined them, passionate, demanding, teetering on the edge, falling over. And then he pulled back from her because what he needed to say to her was important and she felt the sudden loss of his proximity.

"I promise you this, it'll never be just sex between us, never empty," and she didn't know where that was coming from but it was obviously something important to him. "And never in anger, no angry sex."

"What about make-up sex? Angela assures me that make-up sex is…" her low chuckle and sly grin pulled the seriousness right out of what he was trying to tell her, "...quite satisfying."

"Makeup sex is different, it's not angry, subtle differences, Bones, and I'd rather not fight to the point that we need make-up sex, I'd rather just work things out between us, you know, talk. But, that's not the point, the point is, I just want you to know I'll never touch you in anger." She could see the truth of it in his eyes.

"I know you wouldn't."

"It'll always be making love with us, Bones, I promise, it'll always be about the love we share." Those deep brown eyes reached out to her, warm and caring, pulling her in. "There'll be times I can't wait, you know, not long enough to get you to a bed, when I need you or you need me right then, right there." She felt her heart racing as she pictured that, she'd felt it before with him, that desire, that need. It always had to be repressed before, but not now, not anymore. Her pulse jumped at the thought as his hands began to move against her, creating an intoxicating friction.

Swallowing hard, she let his rich, deep voice entreat her.

"And lazy mornings, when we don't want to get out of bed, when every touch is deep and intense because our senses are just waking up, God, waking up with you. I wanna be there when you wake up." His hand rounded her hip and pulled her in closer, because distance, any distance between them was feeling unbearable. "And I imagine, sometimes we'll be tired but need it, you know, it'll be comforting at the end of a long day." Tucking in, his lips brushed against her ear as he spoke. "I think it'll be something new each time, something amazing, just ours, always ours." She nodded against his lips, agreeing in soft sighs and mewls before pulling back and laying her lips on his.

"Now." She whispered against his lips. "I need you now."

The candle lights flickered, dancing, warm, yellow light and deep, heavy shadows played over their bare bodies. She stood, pulling him with her as they maneuvered their way out of the tub, leaving those candles burning and water bubbling, tumbling through her room to her bed, falling into one another.

It was different but no less intense.

They took their time, talked and laughed and loved, building the tension, letting it ebb and flow naturally as they twisted and turned, exploring each curve and plane. A beautiful blur of sight and sound and touch and taste, taking them to the edge of sensory overload. Trading long held desires back and forth, acting on impulse.

"I love this spot." He told her as his hand drifted lazily back and forth over the small of her back, his lips chasing, following closely behind. And she countered.

"I've always wanted to touch you here." Remembering how hard it was to undress him and not touch his perfect body, she let her kisses fall, rounding his acromion, heading across his clavicle, pressed as closely to the foundation of his bones as she could. "And here." As she traveled down his rectus abdominis. The guttural sounds of his pleasure encouraging her.

"This curve," his hand traced the long slope that fell from her her ribs to the deep hollow of her waist and back out along her hips. "You're...you're...so beautiful."

"Booth" She blushed, shaking her head slightly at the compliment, but she smiled, her eyes dancing.

And he spoke of each the times when her beauty nearly drove him over the edge as his fingers played across those enticing curves and his lips pressed to her skin over and over. Some she understood, Jeffersonian events when they were dressed to the nines, Undercover in Vegas and the circus, that skimpy outfit and fishnet stockings, her Wonder Woman costume. Some that surprised her, a certain pair of jeans she wore late nights doing paperwork because they were comfortable and she knew she'd be sitting on the floor. Exercise pants and old t-shirts she wore on their long runs together along the Mall. A sundress she wore a couple Saturdays, to the zoo with Parker and a picnic lunch that sent them running for cover when the skies opened up and they got caught in a downpour.

Cradling her in his arms, he watched her release, first without him, lips parted, soft panting breaths, his name desperate in his ears, and then with him, those beautiful fingers clinging to his arms, holding tight as they fell together, refusing to separate. They were still wrapped around each other when she reached down and pulled the covers up around them, her cheek resting on the smooth skin of his chest, his heart pounding in her ear.

Eating could wait, drinks, work plans and funeral plans and when to tell who plans, could wait. The world and all its complications could wait. There would be time to blow out candles and pick up the bathroom, find a place for Booth to store the numerous items he carried in his pockets and order food, for now, they needed this. They needed the intimacy of this moment.

Rolling, he pressed a firm kiss on her forehead. "I love you, Bones."

"I love you too, Booth."

ooooo0ooooo

A/N: Happy belated holidays! Sorry this chapter took so long, I paused to write my Secret Santa story for grc73 and read hers for me. If you haven't read it yet, it's fabulous...The Snowbound in the Smoke Hole. I love her stories! There have been so many great stories this holiday season for the Bonesology Secret Santa, lots to curl up and read to!

Anyways, thank you to all for the support you've given me in my writing, for your favorites and follows and reviews, for encouraging messages. I've wrestled with a couple bad flares this winter and that support has been a great distraction and keep me going! There are so many of you, I couldn't list them all and would worry if I did that I left someone out. Please know I cherish the friendships I've made here!

Special thanks to snowybones, faithinbones, jazzyproz, and morebonesplz for helping me work through some story kinks and the trap I always fall into, overthinking it all!

I don't know exactly where I'm ending this story, but I know it's not yet. Probably a little past her pregnancy reveal but before what would be the beginning of season 7 and I already have an epilogue planned that I'm pretty excited about.

Every time I rewatch season 6 I feel like I've been pulled through a knothole. This chapter was very much a, we got through it, chapter for me, a rest stop before getting back on the road, and facing new challenges and complications. As my dad is prone to say about life, if it's not one damn thing it's another.

I'm actually really nervous about this chapter (probably because I was up all night finishing an article for an editor I don't really like who has a terrible habit of giving an assignment with no real parameters and then being unsatisfied with anything I write - one of those "I don't know what I want but it's not that" types and I still haven't gotten any feedback from him) SO please drop me a line and let me know what you think of this chapter.

much love and hugs

DG