Sorry for the delay but you know that work sometimes can really kill inspiration. I don't know what else to say than thank you to all the people who reviewed the story. Now is the moment of truth... Enjoy!

One of these nights (part 3)

He had created this situation; he was the only one responsible. What had possessed him to nearly kiss her the other night? She was his little sister, his best friend. The young man was punching the bag with all his might while repeating those two sentences like a mantra.

His t-shirt was soaked and his hands were hurting but he kept going on like a possessed man, oblivious to the pain. The tension between he and Emma was starting to create some problems to the team dynamic. Even the others had felt it. Shalimar had tried to talk to him about it. His only response had been a laugh. Then there had been last night...

Another heavy punch landed on the bag. Somehow, they would have to talk about it and find a solution, whatever the problem was. In the back of his mind he knew the reason of the tension, but he refused to consider it. Emma was his best friend, his confidant. Screwing such a perfect friendship was out of question. And yet, he wondered how she would respond to his touch, to his kisses. 'Stop it. You can't think of her like that!'

Emma was impatiently walking trough the halls, wondering when Sanctuary had started to shrink. Since their near kiss last night, she was feeling claustrophobic, restrained in her moves and thoughts, oppressed by his presence. So she would pace restlessly down the halls like a caged tiger. They had avoided contact during the last twelve hours but it was starting to get on her nerves and despite all the occupations she could have found, the psionic was bored.

Passing by the dojo door she heard loud grunts accompanied by muffled blows. She stopped in the doorway, watching him train, completely entranced. Her teammate was beating the punching bag as if it was his deadliest foe. His hair were matted to his forehead, his face was tensed, reflecting his inner turmoil. Waves of burning anger were coming from him nearly consuming all other feelings drifting her way. She blocked the mental assault, focusing instead on the way he was punching the bag in front of him and her own feelings toward the situation.

With each blow his muscles were flexing, tensing, rippling beneath his skin. His every move was precise and calculated, acting like a hypnotic spell, sending warmth through her body. They were not meant to be sensuous. Yet, a languorous feeling was quickly spreading, speeding through her veins like potent liquor. Her body was slowly taking over her mind, making her light-headed. She knew she better should leave before he noticed her presence but her feet felt like lead.

"Hey."

The young man glanced sideways not bothering to stop or answer; her presence was making him incredibly tense. Out of revenge, two powerful punches fell on the bag, making it dangerously sway. She stepped hesitantly in the room and placed herself behind the bag blocking it with her hands and body. Without a word he resumed his punching with renewed strength.

Emma was barely able to maintain it. Each blow would send small tremors through her whole body, shaking her to her core. She closed her eyes focusing on the sensations, anticipating each punch. Hearing her gasp after a powerful blow, he abruptly stopped fearing he had injured her.

"Emma? Are you alright?"

Her eyes snapped open only to find him staring at her, worry etched on his handsome face. She lowered her head feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. 'Since when do you think he's handsome. And stop lusting over him!'. Slowly he straightened up and watched his young companion. She was avoiding direct eye contact and he suspected, hoped that she was feeling a little something for him. Maybe it was a good thing they were stuck together. He would eventually have to face his feelings for her without the possibility to run away; it could also backfire, like it had the day before. What if he was not able to control his reactions toward her? It had taken all his willpower not to kiss her yesterday night.

"Yeah, I'm alright"

"Come here Em. It's you turn."

The young woman suddenly looked up, locking eyes with him; for a few seconds, the world zeroed to his eyes, time wrapped around itself giving her the eternity to drown in them. He did not lower his gaze; he just stood there lost in the ocean of her eyes realizing for the first time he wanted her and not just like a friend.

Coming back to reality her first thought was that the man facing her was insane. She could not punch that thing. She slowly went to the door not wanting to cause an argument. He was quietly unwrapping his hands while staring at her skeptical expression and retreating form. With two steps, he crossed the distance between them effectively blocking the door, determination etched on his face. One of his hands came to rest on her neck sending heat through her body. He was not letting her escape this time.

"You have no choice Emma and you know it."

The young woman looked at him, realizing the double-entendre of his sentence. She desperately wanted to flee but her feet were rooted to the spot.

"I'll wrap your hands and show you the basics."

Spellbound, she got closer to him stretching her hands in front of her. Gently he took them in his, lightly caressing them, causing a shiver to run down her spine. She briefly closed her eyes trying to master her raging emotions and body reactions. Carefully, with deliberate slowness, he bandaged her slender hands, softly applying a caress every now and then. When he was done he nearly dragged her back to the bag. He showed her how to place her hands and let her give it a go.

The first punch set her repressed energy free. After a few, she started moving completely, repeating the near dance she had witnessed earlier. Ten minutes later, he was holding the bag for her. After an hour, she stopped out of breath, feeling relaxed and a happy smile gracing her lips.

"That was... wow!"

Roughly he pulled her hands turning them palm up so that he could unwrap them. His moves were precise and rapid avoiding all unnecessary contact. He didn't want to think of their closeness, it was too disturbing. The way she had moved, punching that bag was too enticing for his sanity.

"It's the same as when I release a blast. I just feel..."

Despite the tension he felt, her childlike joy elicited a smile from him. Her hands were now unwrapped and resting in one of his, so small and delicate compared to his. He took a careful look at them evaluating the possible damage, berating himself for not having thought she might get herself hurt. Her hands were starting to get a little red, especially on the knuckles. Holding them, he gently made her sit astride one bench. He reached for a bottle of massage oil sitting on one of the shelves. Surprised she felt him sitting behind her, so that her back was pressed against his chest. She leaned closer to him basking in the contact.

"Give me your hands."

"Why? They don't hurt. All I need now is a good shower and a good night of sleep."

Yet, she extended one of her hand and let the other rest on one of his knee sending warmth through his already overheated body; her head found its place on his shoulder and she happily closed her eyes. His body was nearly burning her through her clothes, branding her as his own. It felt so good. Despite their loneliness, his voice was barely above a whisper, so close to hear, his warm breath like a feather on her skin.

"They don't hurt now because your muscles are still warm. But they will tomorrow as well as your arms, shoulders and back. We need to take care of this now. Otherwise you won't be able to move. You'll take your shower after that."

While speaking, he started rubbing the oil on her right hand beginning with the back of it, expertly easing the tension. When he reached the underside of her wrist, her breath got caught in her throat. His calloused fingers gently rubbing her oversensitive skin, the scent of the oil and his warmth were slowly driving her crazy with need. Heat was starting to concentrate in her body, flowing like lava and concentrating between her thighs.

Emma couldn't repress a low moan to escape from her lips. Punching that bag had allowed her to release some tension; but being that close to him made the smouldering fire roar back to life and she was tired of fighting it; she was tired of denying her attraction to him.

Slowly he was going up her arm, trapping her in a tight embrace. She responded by leaning further into him, all rational thoughts leaving her brain.

His hands were now working on her other hand and moving up to her shoulders. After a few minutes, he stopped and moved back a bit so that there was some distance between them. Emma felt him pull back and whimpered at the loss. The light contact of his hands on her bare shoulders, slowly easing the straps of her top surprised and pleased her. She arched her back in response. His warm hands finally came down on her shoulders, gently kneading, easing the tension in her muscles. Emma groaned, wondering how those very hands would feel on other parts of her body, would he be so gentle. She let her head drop back deeply exhaling. She was lost in the moment, in her fantasy.

The young man sitting behind her was wondering how long he would be able to overpower his need for her. What he had first intended to do was long ago forgotten and the situation was quickly getting out of control. Emma was responding to his touches in a way he had never thought possible. Her low moans were beginning to affect him strongly, sending waves of pleasurable heat in his entire body. Her skin was so smooth, so inviting, silky like in his dreams, her willingness allowing the maelstrom of repressed feelings to be freed. The massage slowly shifted in a sensuous caress eliciting a near purr from the young woman. Hearing her, he lost total control. His lips came crashing on the hollow of her neck, his tongue tasting her salty skin.

"Oh God, Brennan."

She reached for one of his hand and put it on her stomach leaving her hand on his as if to maintain it where it was. Their fingers entwined and he roughly pulled her to his chest. Her other hand reached for his neck and started to caress it. His lips were moving along her collarbone lightly kissing and nibbling at her skin. Their entwined hands came to one of her breast making Emma gasp at the sensation.

"Brennan?"

His name on her lips felt like poetry to his heart; how could he have been so blind to his own feelings?

"Not here. My room."

Emma got up extending one of her hands in a silent invitation and locking eyes with him. Without a word he took it and got up but did not move.

"Are you sure Emma? I don't want you to regret it."

"I won't"