Ahoy, mateys, there be smut in these waters. (That's as close to a warning as you're getting.) Also, this chapter is longer than the first three, and for that, well, I'm not even a little sorry.

Chapter 4: You're Mine Tonight

"Okay, you need to learn to count on this beat," Tony snapped impatiently, frustrated that again, his new partner was not getting a proper feel for the steps. She'd done so well at their first session, but then again, they hadn't been doing anything but some improv, just a test to see if she could actually dance. When it came to learning the actual form and movement, however, she was struggling.

"I know how to count," she muttered, annoyed. They'd been doing this same step for two days now, with almost nothing else to show for the time they'd put in. Yesterday they'd spent hours just hammering out the rhythm of this particular style, and today was Ziva's first day in heels, something she'd had to adjust to, despite her insistence to the contrary. "Perhaps if you showed me the dance, I would remember that, since I will associate the steps with the music."

"You need to understand the basics first," he countered, stepping back from her but motioning for her to keep moving. "One two three four, one two three four…" he continued, emphasizing the first count with a clap, the one that she kept misstepping on.

"Maintain your frame," he corrected, noting her arms drooping as she focused on the steps. She held her frame well when he held her, he'd noticed, but she would lose it somewhat when he pulled away from her. There would be moments in the dance when they would have to pull apart, and she needed to maintain that proper carriage when they did so.

Ziva made the correction, then stumbled on the first count again. She cursed under her breath in Hebrew, a word Tony did not understand but didn't need to.

"Stop," he said, turning off the music. She ran her hands over her head, pushing stray hairs that had fallen out of her ponytail off her face. She let out a sigh, tired and frustrated, but unwilling to give up.

"You need to relax," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and looking down at her earnestly.

"I am trying," she responded, nodding her head back in frustration. Tony stepped away, turning toward the stereo and changing the music with the remote. He selected a different song, a slightly slower one. He turned back toward Ziva, taking her swiftly into his arms, pulling her by the waist until her lower half was flush against him, the lock-tightness of his arms the only thing keeping them from colliding entirely.

"Listen to this beat," he said quietly, adding, "and feel the music." He looked into her eyes and nodded along with the music, a heavier nod for the first, accented count, and slighter nods for the others. "Eyes on me," he added, when she started to close her eyes to feel the music.

She opened them, gazing directly into his eyes, noting how they seemingly danced along with the music. Ziva found herself getting lost, her breath catching in her throat, as he held her close and finally began to lead her, maintaining the eye contact and helping her to feel the steps to this slower, more intimate music.

Her lips parted almost unknowingly, and she felt as though she needed help to catch her breath. She moved her feet to the music, stepping on the correct count, following his lead. Perhaps he had only needed to slow it down for her, from the beginning, like he had the other day.

"Much better," he murmured, pleased that the slower pace was working. "You are feeling it now. I can tell," he added, and Ziva wasn't sure if he meant the music or something else, something between them. Perhaps he meant both.

Unable to respond, she just danced, letting him lead her around the room. She was no longer stepping on his feet, and she felt secure in the way he led her across the floor. At some point, she realized she'd lost track of counting and just moved, the steps feeling more natural.

"You see that?" he said softly, smiling in approval, then slid his hands lower, toward her hips. "Now move your hips. It should come naturally."

Ziva sucked in a sharp breath, then flushed slightly, hoping he hadn't noticed. Their proximity the past few days had only intensified her attraction toward him, and now he was touching her intimately … it was only dancing, she realized, but no man had ever awakened this kind of longing in her. "Like this?" She breathed, tentatively swaying her hips along with the steps.

"That's good." He slid his hands back away from her hips, re-joining her in a tight dance frame. "Now, more deliberately, really feel it."

Feeling more confident, Ziva began to roll her hips more assertively to the music. The song was sexy, the dance was sensual, and the room was hot, and Tony was holding her close and telling her to roll her hips to the music as he led her around the room. It was like some kind of dream, the way she felt in his arms.

Confident, sexual, beautiful.

The song ended, and Tony slowly released her from his embrace, taking a step back and giving her a slight nod, as if to thank her for the pleasure. "You've got it, finally," he said, pleased. "Tomorrow morning, we'll begin work on the audition piece."

Ziva nodded, glad that they were finally making progress. She was in excellent shape, but Tony had been working the hell out of her, and she was exhausted. She couldn't wait to get into a hot bath to soak her legs, which were unused to being in heels as long as they had been. She'd promised she could do it, though, and she was determined not to let him down.

"I will see you tomorrow, then," she said softly, almost wanting to stay despite her fatigue. She caught his eye as he took a swig from his water bottle, and they stood there for a moment, locked in place, as if some unseen force kept them from moving from each other's gaze.

"I will be right here," came his response, and taking two steps back, she finally turned and left, heading back to her family.

"I guess you lucked out with this one," Mandy said, the surprise evident in her voice as she sat in the corner of the room, her leg propped up on another chair. She'd come to see how Tony and his new partner were getting along, and she had to admit, the young princess – a nickname she'd earned, whether she liked it or not – was a fairly competent dancer. If she hadn't known they'd been working on the dance for the past six days straight, she might have considered Ziva to be a natural.

Tony nodded, pleased to hear that most of the bite had left Mandy's voice from the last time she and Ziva had interacted. After learning that her leg would most likely heal with no long-term complications and she'd be able to return to dancing, Mandy had lost a lot of her anger.

Ziva had noticed Mandy's attitude change, as well, but she was still wary of the woman, who had been so incredibly rude to her on their first meeting. Still, she thanked the heavens for the fact that this audition was only for Tony, and not for both of them. She still would have stepped in to help Tony, but she would have felt terrible if she'd ruined someone's shot at a better future.

She got the impression that neither Tony nor Mandy enjoyed working at Vandenberg's that much.

"Well, I gotta get ready for my appointment," Mandy grumbled, reaching for the crutches she'd propped against a nearby chair and hobbling to her foot. Agile as she was, she was having a hell of a time navigating life on a pair of crutches. She sighed, casting an irritated glance at Ziva, but the girl wasn't paying her any attention.

"Thanks for stopping by, Mandy." Tony crossed the room to the door, holding it open for his former partner as she slowly made her way out of the studio. Ziva let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, relieved that the other woman was gone. It was obvious that Mandy still had it out for her, but she wouldn't give the woman the satisfaction of seeing that she'd gotten under her skin.

"Again from the top?" Tony's voice broke her from her reverie. Ziva said nothing, just moved to her place on the floor, striking her pose for the beginning part of the dance.

The music filled the room, and when the beat came, she picked up her cue and started the steps toward him. He'd told her to move like a predator, like a jungle cat waiting to pounce on her prey, so she locked her gaze with his, a fiery look passing between them as she took his hand and spun into the dance frame.

"No, no," he yelled, pulling away from her and turning off the music. "You have to maintain your frame. You can't keep letting your arms loosen like this," he said, grabbing her arm and wobbling it, as if to illustrate its weakness. "I shouldn't be able to do that. Keep your frame locked tight."

Sighing, she locked her arms into position, nodding her head to the side and raising her eyebrows as if to say, "Better?" Rather than respond, he crossed back toward her, taking her into his arms, testing the frame. Truthfully, the frame was important, but he was more concerned with how it felt to have her body pressed against his when they danced. Keeping her at a proper distance, both physically and metaphorically, would only be to his benefit. He could think about her that way later. Not while they had work to do, though.

"Keep it like that, the entire dance," he directed, then restarted the music. Ziva took her place and then stepped toward him, one slow step, dragging her right foot behind her, then another, and then a rapid spin into his arms. She kept her arms so stiff that she ended up punching him in the shoulder, causing him to double over, groaning in pain.

"Are you trying to kill me?" He shouted, annoyed, as he stood back up, rolling his shoulder a few times to work out the pain that was already receding.

"The thought has crossed my mind," she muttered, growing annoyed. "But I am sorry. I did not mean to punch you. Perhaps my frame is too stiff?" She asked coyly. She had meant to punch him, and they both knew it.

Tony sighed, straightening up and catching her eye, realizing that she was baiting him. "Okay, so I deserved that. Where did you learn to punch like that?"

"I had to do my time in the IDF," she shrugged nonchalantly.

"Well, a lesser man would have fallen to his knees," Tony complimented, rubbing his shoulder. That would probably leave a mark.

Looking him directly in the eye, she challenged him, attempting to look as menacing as possible while wearing tights and heels. "I held back," she said, cocking her head to the side and licking the corner of her mouth.

Tony's surprise excited her, and she smirked at how he stepped away, taken aback by her threatening tone. He was easy enough to intimidate, and it was nice to be able to unnerve him when he spent most of his time unnerving her. "Great, I'm dancing with an Israeli assassin," he joked, and she narrowed her eyes at him menacingly.

"Don't tell me you're really an assassin and this doctor thing is just a cover," he continued, shifting his eyes to the side. For all he knew, an army of ninja assassins were about to emerge from the woodwork and take him down.

"That is ridiculous," she responded with a shake of her head, stepping toward him. "I am who I say I am. Though I will admit that I like assassin better than princess," she purred. Perhaps she should threaten him with bodily harm more often. She motioned toward the stereo, and Tony got the hint, flipping the remote to start the music again. "Shall we?"

"I'd say dancing is a bit more my speed, yeah," came the response as he pulled her toward him, her arms locking in the proper dance frame this time. He met her gaze with a nod of approval.

"Well then let us dance, and I shall not have to kill you," she responded with a smirk. His startled look made her snicker, and before she knew it, she had started to laugh at his apparent apprehension.

"What?"

"You really are too easy to threaten," she replied, giggling flirtatiously. "Or are you just intimidated by murderous royalty?" She baited him, accepting both of his titles for her and flipping them on him.

Eyes widening, he grinned, responding, "Aha, I knew it!" He pushed her away and into a spin sequence he was really quite proud to note that she'd almost mastered, pulling her back into him and catching her gaze, an amused smirk that almost dared him to put on something slow and seduce her.

If he was being honest though, he wasn't sure if he'd be the one doing the seducing. Without dropping his gaze, he lifted her up off the ground, her legs opening to a split as he spun her around, one, two, three times before setting her back down onto her feet, swallowing his desire for her before praising her progress – that was the first time they'd managed that lift without stumbling out of it.

Pulling her tightly against him again, his muscles flexing as he held her firmly in position, they began the difficult footwork sequence Ziva had struggled with the most. Almost as if she'd read his thoughts, she stumbled over the step, then stomped her foot down in frustration.

He dropped his arms, releasing her from his embrace, and switched the music off. "Let's break that one down again, shall we?" he offered, recognizing that she just needed to slow it down, get her body used to the movement, and then speed it up.

Nodding, Ziva pushed her hair off her face again. Tony could tell that she was frustrated, but she got this fiery look in her eyes when she was angry, the look that indicated that perhaps assassin hadn't been such an inappropriate moniker. There was passion behind that look, a passion that excited him and made him wonder, not for the first time, how she'd be in a more horizontal position.

Turning back toward her and pulling her at arm's length so he could look at her feet, Tony began to go over the footwork sequence, one step at a time. Ziva's brow furrowed in concentration, and again he couldn't help but be attracted to her, his skin tingling where she gripped him, her fingers digging into his arms as she worked through the dance.

She was keenly aware of his gaze, the way his eyes seemed to linger on hers for longer than strictly necessary, and she wasn't sure if it really was the footwork sequence or his closeness that was causing her to stumble every time.

Listening to his voice, low and husky as he counted out the steps, Ziva began to lose track of what she was doing, imagining him saying other things, and before she had the chance to react, she'd tripped over her feet, falling forward, Tony catching her as she fell against him.

"Sorry," she murmured into his chest, leaning against him for longer than was strictly necessary. Get a grip, she admonished herself before stepping back, immediately wishing that she could step right back into him, turn her head toward his, and kiss him until he couldn't speak anymore.

"It's fine, no harm done," he joked, trying to lighten the mood. The air was incredibly thick, and the tension was almost unbearable. He wanted her, more than he had ever wanted another woman, and he was completely taken by her, her every expression, her every voice, her every move. The worst part, though, was that he didn't even know how long he had felt that way.

Or how much longer he could keep pretending that he didn't.

The David family had eaten dinner inside the guest house tonight, and Ziva could still hear someone – a maid, probably – cleaning the plates in the kitchen sink. Eli's words rang in her ear, his disapproving tone at whatever it was she'd found to occupy herself evident. "You are out a lot. I hope you are not doing anything I would not approve of," he'd said at dinner, and she'd had to assure him that she was not.

It was, of course, a lie. Dance lessons, the likes of which she hadn't seen in over a decade, and spending time with a roguish American? No, abba, you would not approve.

Tony excited her, though, and she felt drawn to him, even when they were not in the same room. She'd begun to crave their daily lessons, those moments when she would try not to melt in his arms as he led her in dance. He was a great dancer, and a great teacher. She wondered if he would be similarly great in … other areas.

Shaking her head to clear those thoughts from her mind, she slowly peeked her head outside the doorway and into the hallway, looking for the face of her parents or her sister. The path looked deserted, but she couldn't be sure that no one was sitting in the den area, or even in one of the bedrooms she'd have to pass.

Silently, she cursed herself for having chosen the bedroom at the very end of the hall, where she'd have the most difficulty getting out of the house unnoticed.

She'd promised Tony earlier that afternoon that she would come back for more rehearsal time after dinner, and she was determined to keep her promise. He'd mentioned that they were going to start working on the difficult lift at the end of the dance, and she was both excited and nervous at the prospect. It was the last piece of the dance that she needed to learn how to do. It was nearing seven, the time that she'd said she'd be back. Slipping back into her room, she turned to think for a moment, her eyes settling on the windows at the back of the room.

"Of course," she mumbled under her breath, then shut her bedroom door behind her, locking it. She kept her bedroom door at home locked most of the time, so no one would question it. If anyone came by and she didn't answer, she could simply say she was listening to music with her headphones and couldn't hear. Something she was also prone to do on a fairly regular basis.

She slipped out the window, leaving it open just a crack so that she'd be able to reach in and open it back up to get back inside. It would be easier to use one of the sliding doors, but she couldn't leave one of those open, because then anyone could probably get in. But she could leave one of the windows open and no one would be any the wiser.

It took her less than a minute to reach the path to the studio, and she stopped and reached into her bag for a compact, checking her appearance before completing the trek. She'd borrowed - okay, stolen - it from Tali, and she laughed at her own foolish reflection in the mirror. What was she doing, trying to seduce someone, especially when she'd be working up a sweat from dancing in such a short period of time? Did it even matter how she looked?

"Yes," she muttered to herself, and then rolled her eyes at her own stupidity. She was acting like boy-crazy Tali over this man.

Stuffing the compact back into her bag, she walked the rest of the way to the dance studio, her heart racing at the thought of another few hours with Tony, wondering if having him lift her over his head would be as exhilarating as everything else he'd shown her.

He was waiting for her in the doorway when she rounded the bend, and her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. Resisting the urge to run toward him, she concentrated on walking as normally as possible, aware of his eyes on her every movement. "Hi," she gasped as she neared him, and he smiled back, opening the door and letting her in.

They'd barely seen each other a minute, and already her breath felt short, as though they'd been dancing for hours. She didn't know how much longer she could pretend that it was only about dancing with him.

I am his partner, a small voice in her head reminded her, but she was finding it harder and harder to listen.

"Kick and back, turn and stop, prep and jump, lift," he called, lifting her from the ground as he did so, spinning her around to the music, then putting her back on the ground. He continued to call out the steps as they worked the last part of the dance, finally landing in their ending pose, her right leg wrapped tightly around his waist, the left leg extended beneath her, and her back arched away from him. It was a tricky pose, one that she was still struggling with, but when she managed to get it right, she could see in the mirror that it made quite the picture.

She tried not to think about the fact that her leg was wrapped around him as the music ended. Had dancing always been this sexual?

Straightening up, she pulled her leg down and stepped back, adjusting the skirt she had started practicing in, since it would closely mimic the costume she would be wearing to the audition.

"I don't like the middle lift," he muttered, then added, "something about it just isn't quite right."

"Are you going to change it?" She asked, dreading the answer. They'd had the dance "finished" for the past few days now, but every time they did it, Tony found something new that he didn't like. She was starting to get confused with all of the changes, and he was getting more and more irritated when she would mess it up.

"Maybe," he responded, and she sighed as a response, exasperated. Snapping his head up at the offending sound, he barked, "What?"

She drew in another deep breath, trying her best to reign in her anger. "It is nothing. I am fine," she replied, not wanting to antagonize him. After all, this was his audition, and he was doing what he thought would be best for himself.

"No, it's not nothing. What?" he repeated, with a significant amount of bite to his tone.

"Let it go," she implored, her voice raising slightly in irritation.

"You're obviously annoyed, why?"

"Because, Tony," she spat, her face reddening at the realization that this was the first time she had spoken his name, "you keep changing things, and I am getting confused. I am trying to help you out, but every day I am getting less and less sure of myself and where my feet are supposed to go. I am trying to work with you and I am sorry that I knocked your partner down and out but I cannot work like this."

"Are you quitting on me then?" He accused, his eyes widening in dismay. He needed her.

"No! I am not going to quit, but you need to remember that I am here to save your ass. Or do you want to spend the rest of your summers teaching old women how to foxtrot?"

Tony crossed the room toward her, closing the gap by pulling her by the arm and into a dance frame. He didn't know what he'd hoped to accomplish, but she stumbled and crashed into him, anger flaring in her eyes as she looked up at him. "Oh, so you're back to threatening me again?"

"If I was, you would know," she hissed menacingly, and he didn't doubt it. Ziva had proven multiple times that she could be intimidating, and if she really wanted to kill him, she probably could. He felt her shiver and he realized just how close she was, there against his chest, the frame entirely forgotten. She was breathing heavily against him, the rise and fall of her chest next to his own causing his heartbeat to speed up, desire clouding his thoughts.

Her eyes softened momentarily, and before he realized what he was doing, he closed the gap between them, pressing his lips against hers and kissing her hungrily. She responded almost immediately, sliding her hand up his arm and around his neck to pull at his hair, tasting him with her tongue and moaning softly into his mouth. He tightened his arm around her waist, deepening the kiss and backing her toward the wall, where he pressed against her and plundered her mouth, taking all she could offer. The damn little Israeli had been under his skin since their first meeting, and he couldn't keep his distance anymore. Pulling away briefly to lock eyes with her, panting quickly before diving in again, he reached his fingers up into the curly ponytail of hers, tangling it between his fingers as he pressed against her. She pulled him tighter to her, giving as good as she got, and when he finally pulled away from her, she saw nothing but lust in his eyes, pure hunger, as though he would devour her at the first possible opportunity. A shiver went through her at the thought.

Pressing his forehead against hers, he panted heavily, attempting to catch his breath. Closing his eyes for just a moment, he opened them again with resumed composure, and said, "I shouldn't have done that."

"No," she responded, swallowing down the rejection, "it was my fault. I should not have challenged you."

"No, it was mine entirely," he argued, "for constantly changing things. It's not fair."

"How about we admit that we were both to blame?" she offered, and he nodded slightly in agreement.

"Okay," he murmured, realizing that he still had her pressed up against the wall of the studio. He was inwardly grateful that this particular wall didn't have a mirror, so no imprint of her body against the glass would need to be wiped away later.

"So…" she trailed off, dark eyes meeting his with uncertainty.

"The dance." He stepped back and pulled her away from the wall. She straightened her skirt again, then ran a hand through her hair, and he busied himself with the music, even though he still had the remote control to the stereo in his pocket. The air in the room was so thick he could barely breathe, and he wondered if she felt as tense as he did.

Tony started the music, and Ziva got into position, ready to put her predatory face back on, the one that fit the persona of the dance. She stalked toward him, unable to meet his eye as she had before, and when he reached out his arm to pull her toward him and into the dance frame, she finally caught his gaze.

"You know," he breathed, his voice low and sensual, "I have never wanted to kiss anyone as badly as I do right now."

Ziva drew in a gasp, his words settling somewhere deep inside her, and all she could think to respond was, "What's stopping you?" Before she could say anything else, his lips were once again upon hers, and she pulled him toward her again, kissing him back forcefully, her breaths coming between kisses in short, heated gasps.

She slid her hands down his back and to his waist, where she grabbed hold of his shirt and began to lift it off him, no longer willing to wait to have what she'd been craving for so long. Tony didn't complain, just helped her remove the garment and toss it aside, circling his arms around her again and kissing her with renewed vigor.

Without moving his lips from hers, Tony started trying to walk her backward toward the staircase. She was easily led on the dance floor, but she was standing her ground now, and he pulled apart to ask, "Upstairs?" before diving back in, and she nodded her approval against him. She stepped backward, pulling him with her, not wanting to let him go for even a moment while they navigated the staircase to where Tony slept.

Stumbling over the first step, Ziva lost her footing, falling backward onto the incline, and Tony toppled onto her. "Ah, shit," she grumbled as their mouths came apart, her breath coming out in short, rapid gasps as she struggled to get a handle on her rapidly beating heart.

"You all right?" Tony asked huskily, and Ziva nodded, letting out a giggle as she did. Tony leaned forward to touch his forehead to hers, planting a quick peck to her mouth before standing back up, reaching down to grab her arm and pulling her to her feet. "We should probably just walk up the stairs," he suggested sheepishly, and Ziva giggled again, nodding her head in agreement and ascending, Tony hot on her heels.

Once at the top of the staircase, they wasted no time picking up where they left off, Ziva wrapping her arms fully around his neck and pulling his face down to hers to take his mouth with her own. The feel of his bare chest crashed against her body was exhilarating, the way every point of contact between them seemed to sizzle like it was on fire. He moaned into her mouth and she felt the warmth pooling between her legs; so far he had only kissed her and she was already aching with need. His arms pulled her tightly against his body, and she ran her hands from the back of his neck to his cheeks, touching his face tenderly and pulling away, just momentarily, to gasp, "Tony."

Groaning, he reached his arms down to the hem of her tank top, inching it up and off slowly. Each new expanse of skin he uncovered felt like heaven to his fingertips, and he reveled in the feel of her smooth, toned stomach under his hands. Calloused fingers slowly traced their way along her skin, causing Ziva to shiver under his touch, the anticipation all but consuming her. His hands slowly slid their way up her back, reaching around to unclasp her bra, inching the straps down her shoulders. She finished the task, reaching with both hands to pull the straps down and drop the bra unceremoniously onto the floor.

Sure hands found their way to where her bra had been, palming her breasts, a low groan dragging from his throat. Tony's thumb lightly brushed over her nipples, teasing them to arousal, feeling something tighten inside as he watched her throw her head back and groan with approval. It was almost like a dance, the way he held her close but then let her fall away, her body's exquisite movements making him quiver with need.

Slowly, she lifted her head back up, locking her gaze with his and pulling him back toward her for another slow, lingering kiss, his hands wrapping around her and pulling her body tightly into him. Ziva groaned into his mouth at the feel of her bare skin against his, and Tony seemed to groan back in appreciation.

Pulling her lips from his momentarily, she breathed, "I need you," then leaned over to kiss his neck, slowly tasting his skin, alternating between sucking lightly, nibbling, and planting hot kisses along his neck and shoulders. Slowly, she ran her hand down his chest, letting her fingers lightly graze the skin of his torso, one hand still wrapped tightly around his neck pulling him back to her lips to consume his lips anew.

Tony wrapped his arms tightly around her again, giving into the heady feeling of Ziva's lips on his, taking and tasting liberally, reaching up to pull her hair down from its ponytail and tangle his fingers into her curls, pulling lightly at her hair and giving her a slight touch of pain to go along with the pleasure. He pulled apart, momentarily, only to gasp her name against her lips, then returned to kissing her with renewed vigor, the taste of her lips too sweet, too intoxicating, to pull away from for very long.

So caught up in how good she tasted and the feel of his fingers in her wild hair, Tony hadn't even noticed that Ziva had managed to unbutton his pants, reaching her hand beneath the waistband of his boxers until she firmly grasped his straining cock in her hand and gave it a slight squeeze. He pulled away slightly, gasping at the feel of her touch. Slowly, she began to stroke him, leaning forward to capture his mouth again, moaning as she did so.

He thrust his hips forward and into her hand, running his hands slowly down to her waist, sliding the skirt she'd been wearing for practice down her hips and letting it fall to the floor, pooling at her feet. He pulled his mouth from hers, appreciating the view of this hot Israeli woman wearing nothing but panties and heels and stroking his cock, gasping out, "God, yes," before leaning to kiss her again, pushing her backward toward his bed.

Ziva felt her legs hit the back of the bed and almost didn't have a chance to catch herself before falling, letting Tony crash on top of her, landing with a slight "oof" and causing her to giggle. She lifted her hands to his head, tangling them in his hair and let her lips graze his. The feel of his body weighing down was almost too much, the way his skin felt warm against her own, the contact between them tingling like an electrical shock.

Almost without warning, Tony found himself on his back, Ziva straddling him and rolling her hips against his arousal. "You may lead on the floor," she teased, her voice thick with lust, "but I like to lead in the bedroom."

He didn't want to argue, not with the way her body was writhing on top of him, so he merely reached his hands to her hips and played at the elastic of her panties. Catching the hint, Ziva pulled away just long enough to slide them off, dropping them on the floor, before settling back down, her wet heat just in front of where he wanted her the most, his cock hard against her ass. Tony sucked in a breath, a sharp gasp at the feel of her so close, and he reached his hands back to her hips, reaching forward in an attempt to touch her.

He locked eyes with her momentarily before sliding his hand forward and through her trimmed curls, moving his fingers slowly toward her center, finally grazing his finger over her clit. Ziva let out a tortured gasp, throwing her head back, and Tony lightly grazed his finger back over her, rubbing her barely at all, enjoying the way she leaned into his touch. She was leaning one hand on his chest, another touching her own, teasing her nipple and fondling herself, and Tony was powerless to stop himself becoming even more aroused, if that was even possible.

"More," she begged, grinding against his hand, "please." He began to touch her with greater intensity, rubbing her clit faster and harder, causing her to moan with pleasure, and Tony watched with interest as she rolled her hips toward him, taking all he would give her and begging for more. The hand that she'd used to caress her breast was sliding down her stomach, reaching for his own hand, which she led further, begging, "Put your fingers in me."

Unable to speak, Tony merely grunted, giving a sharp nod. She'd barely touched him at all and he felt as though he would burst, his skin on fire everywhere she touched him, and he couldn't wait to feel her wetness around him. Sliding his fingers forward, he slowly inserted one, then another finger into her, and Ziva gasped, "Yessssss," elongating the word into a delighted moan.

Tony began to skillfully stroke her, watching as she slid her free hand back up to touch herself. Although he was enjoying the show, he wanted to kiss her again, so Tony reached his own free hand to pull her down, begging, "Kiss me," and Ziva happily obliged, their tongues moving in time with his fingers curling inside her.

Panting between kisses, her moans getting louder, Tony could tell that Ziva was on the verge of her release, and he stroked her faster, using his thumb to rub her clit as he twisted his fingers between her legs. Gasping for breath, her stomach tightening with the feeling of her oncoming orgasm, Ziva gasped, "Tony," before coming unglued, her legs beginning to quiver. Tony continued to stroke her, watching her intently as she came, her eyes closed and her mouth open in pleasure, her breath coming out in short, husky pants against his cheek. "Fuck," she gasped, opening her eyes, a smirk on her face as she rolled her hips back, noting that he was still very much hard and poking her ass cheek.

"God, you're beautiful," Tony murmured, noting the way her eyes were glowing, her skin glistening with sweat, her hair wild and oddly erotic.

Without responding, Ziva leaned into him and pressed her lips to his, taking his tongue into her mouth in a scorching kiss that caused a shiver to run down her spine, a warmth already pooling between her legs where, she realized, she was nowhere near satisfied completely. Slowly, she ran her fingers down his chest, enjoying the way his chest hair felt beneath her fingers as she slowly sat back up. She settled her hands on his abdomen and lifted her hips slightly and rocked against his hard length, looking at Tony with a playful glint in her eye.

"Do you want me?" She teased, tilting her head slightly to one side and touching the corner of her mouth with her tongue, noting the way he squirmed beneath her as she proceeded to slowly lick her lips, her eyes practically devouring him. If he'd thought she had been predatory while dancing, it had nothing on the way she was looking at him right now.

"God, yes," he rasped, almost unable to utter the words. He gulped, feeling painfully hard with anticipation.

"Do you," she cooed, lifting her hips up so that her entrance was hovering just over the head of his cock, an almost pained look in his eyes as he watched her, unable to tear his gaze away from the sight of her perfect form above him, wanting to watch when she took that final step and took him into her. The thought of it made him jerk forward, but Ziva reacted quickly, lifting just out of his reach.

Leaning forward slightly and meeting his gaze, she reminded him, "I'm in charge," with a predatory sultriness, and he silently catalogued this moment as one he would remember for the rest of his life.

"Please," he croaked out, unable to stop himself from begging at this point. He was dying to feel her heat around him, feel her walls contracting around him as she came, and he could barely stand the torture of waiting any longer.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," she cooed, and slowly, slowly, she lowered herself so that just his tip was inside her, and much to his delight, she gasped at the contact. Fuck, he was barely inside her and she felt incredible.

"Please," he begged again, and he could tell that by the way that she was biting her lip that her own resolve was crumbling. He reached his hands to her hips, wanting to hold her, and she slowly, almost torturously, sank onto him, letting out a low, primal moan at how fucking good he felt inside her. "Fuck," Tony growled, pulling her down to kiss him, his mouth absolutely devouring hers as she sat atop him, her hips rolling slightly, just enough to keep him feeling like he would explode any moment.

Gasping, Ziva pulled back, her forehead touching his as she began to move on top of him in earnest, her hips rocking in long, slow thrusts away from and then back onto him, her eyes locked with his as she crashed into him, her breathing coming out in short moans against his lips.

He began tangling his hands in her hair as he began to meet her thrusts, driving up into her with all the force he could manage with her pinning him to the bed, dominating him in the hottest way possible. Her legs were tight against him as she rode him, and Tony felt as though she were everywhere, every inch of him surrounded by Ziva, her contact leaving ashes in its wake.

"You feel …" she began, panting against him as she rode him, long, hard strokes before crashing back down into him, "incredible," she finished, her words clipped and her accent more pronounced. If she were being honest, she was having trouble finding the words, concentrating only on Tony filling her and thrusting up into her.

"I want to fuck you," he begged, and without giving her a chance to respond, he rolled them over in one smooth motion, kissing her deeply before pushing down into her rapidly and hard, making her cry out at each deep thrust into her.

"Fuck!" she screamed, wrapping her leg around his back and meeting him thrust for thrust, dragging her nails down his back and biting at his neck. He growled savagely, leaning down to return a bite of his own to her shoulder, and she yelped, the pain and the pleasure mingling.

Her body was humming with desire, and she could tell that Tony was getting close to his climax, the way his body glistened with sweat and his face seemed tight with concentration. "Touch my clit," she begged, and he lifted his arm almost immediately, rubbing her sensitive bud with his thumb, causing her to cry out. "Yes," she screamed, feeling her own release coming, screaming, "More!"

He was fucking her so fast, she could barely see straight anymore, and his finger was skillfully circling her clit, her breasts tight with arousal and her body was afire, and soon she was seeing stars, screaming, "Tony!" as she came around him, her walls clenching him as he continued to thrust deep into her, a strangled moan passing from his lips as he too came, spilling into her with a few slow, final thrusts before he stilled, his body quivering from the exertion.

He lay on top of her for a while, his heavy breathing matching her own deep gasps, her arms still wrapped tightly around him. She planted a kiss to his shoulder, her breathing still uneven, and he squeezed her hip where his hand still rested as a response.

If we never move from this position, she thought, his cock still partially hard inside her, I would not mind. Tangled together and exhausted, they fell asleep in each other's arms.

It wasn't long before they woke again, but both were reluctant to leave the comfort of the other, and they lay together in his bed, Ziva's head resting lightly on his chest, her fingers absently running through the hair on his chest.

"So I have to ask," he broke the silence, his fingers running a light trail over the bare skin of her arm, "why do you feel like it's so important to go to med school, despite not wanting to?"

She was feeling comfortable and safe, and it wasn't a question she normally would have answered, but she found herself opening up, and spoke, "My father is angry with me. I have to comply with his wishes this time."

"This time?" Tony pressed, and noted that Ziva didn't seem aggravated or put off by the question.

"I rejected a marriage proposal from the son of one of his business associates, whom I was expected to marry," she responded simply, but Tony noted how she stiffened at the mention.

"The guy hurt you," he surmised, and if Ziva was surprised, she didn't show it.

If anyone else had made that statement, she would have been angry, or at the very least indignant, that someone would make such an assumption about her, but with Tony, she felt comfortable opening up. She nuzzled her face into his chest briefly before looking up toward him and answering, "I could not live my life with someone like that." She paused, and drew in a breath. "Whenever he touched me, it made my skin crawl. I would not say that he hurt me, only that …" she trailed off. "Only that … I should not have let him near me, even though it was what my father wanted."

"Do you think he might have? Hurt you, I mean." The question surprised her. It was not something that she'd even thought to ask herself. She knew only that Michael had made her extremely uncomfortable and on edge.

"I … do not know," she replied honestly, and her response seemed to Tony as though the thought had just now occurred to her. Perhaps he would have, and she was even more justified than she had thought in refusing his proposal. "I think, yes. Probably."

She was alarmed at how easy it was to confide in Tony, something she didn't do often. In fact, she had never spoken of her disgust with Michael to anyone, not even Tali. Baring her soul to this man was new and somewhat terrifying. Somehow, though, she felt like she could trust him.

They lay together for a few moments, their breathing the only sounds in the room as Tony lightly rubbed his hand along her back, until she broke the silence, asking, "So who was that woman the other morning?"

"What woman? What morning?" He asked, his mind already wandering, thinking about how he'd like to wrap his arms around her, pull her close, and make her scream his name until morning.

"The morning that Mandy and I collided. Who was she?"

A low chuckle rumbled out of him, and he shrugged, as much as he could with her lying partially on top of him. He didn't answer, though, and Ziva lifted her head up, looking pointedly at him, expecting an answer. He tilted his head away slightly, grimacing sheepishly. "Well, you know, a lot of these women … their husbands ignore them so they would … come to me. They didn't want anything emotional. Neither did I. I kind of liked the idea of screwing with married women. They would be discreet. She's … one of those."

"So you were using her for sex?"

"Well, when you put it that way …" he trailed off, cringing, then took a deep breath and paused before letting it out. "Okay, yeah. I was. Kind of. But she was too, you know?" He felt her nod against his chest. A few moments of silence passed, and neither said anything. Finally, he reached his hand up to Ziva's chin, tilting her face so that she could look at him. "It meant nothing. And hooking up with married chicks meant I didn't have to worry about what would happen the next morning. They'd go home at night."

"Is this your subtle way of kicking me out?" She asked, a twinge of panic threatening, and she prepared for him to smirk and push her away, as he had the first night they'd danced together.

His eyes softened, a light smile forming across his face. "No. I want you to stay. Right here."

She smiled in response, pushing herself up on her elbow to kiss him, a long, leisurely kiss that caused him to moan into her mouth, his tongue taking and tasting. She smiled as she pulled away, murmuring, "I am glad to be different," and lay her head back down across his chest, squeezing him tight for just a second before loosening her grip.

They spent several more moments like that, Tony running his hands up and down the arm that was draped across him, and Ziva lightly kissing his chest where her head lay, sometimes tilting to kiss his neck. It was intimate and not at all sexual, just quiet, and comfortable, and perfect.

"You know, if my father knew I was here he would be … oh how does the saying go … he would be pissed on to me?"

"Pissed off at you," he corrected with a chuckle, ignoring how endearing her English mistakes made her, trying not to think about how much he loved correcting her. Loved? He put the thought out of his mind, unwilling to go there. Yet.

"Yes, yes. That is it," came her response, and Tony could practically feel her mentally cataloging the phrase for future use.

"Does that mean you have to go?" He asked, hoping after having admitted that he didn't want to kick her out that she wouldn't be the one to turn and leave. The vulnerability frightened him, and he didn't know how to feel about the anxiety he felt at the prospect that she might leave, even though she would have to go back to her family sometime, and leave the resort – and him, behind. He pushed the thought out of his mind. Was he really thinking of her beyond this summer?

She broke the silence only a few moments later, speaking quietly against his skin. Her hand traced patterns across his arm. "I should. But I have my own bedroom room with its own lock. I do not think I will be missed," she offered hopefully, not wanting to leave.

"Bedroom room," he repeated, smirking, adding "either bedroom or room, but not both," when he saw her confused look. "But will you stay?" He invited, a question, Ziva suspected, meant more than just for the night. It was full of promise. A warm shiver ran up her spine at the thought that he wanted her close to him, and she snuggled in closer.

"Yes."

As I have said previously, the support I've received for this has been lovely. Thank you for all of your reviews, messages, tweets, reblogs, etc. It's all been fantastic and I'm so glad you're all taking this journey with me. Chapter 5 goes up on Thursday.