"Perhaps we should confine ourselves to recreational activities we can do alone. Today's plan has been much more successful than yesterday's. "
Brennan's comment came as she and Booth made the return trek to the jumper's platform perched high on a cliff overlooking the ocean below.
Hiking a few steps ahead, Booth turned back with a wink.
"For a minute there, I thought you were talking about something else."
An exaggerated eye-roll accompanied her response. "Why do men turn every conversation into one about sex?"
"Why don't women?"
"Hmmmpf."
A few minutes later, a couple lying in sandy clearing near the top of the trail caught her attention.
"Look, Booth, that woman is sunbathing topless and her companion doesn't seem to mind."
His head swiveled in the direction she pointed.
"Yea, well." Booth cleared his throat and quickly looked away. "They're European. We're not."
Brennan turned to study the pair more closely.
"How do you know they're European?"
He shrugged. "The guy's wearing a Speedo."
She whirled back for a third look.
"Stop staring, Bones. And keep up."
She hurried her pace until she was at his heels again.
"American men wear Speedos."
"No, they don't."
"Yes, they do. I've been on beaches on both coasts. American men wear Speedos."
This time, Booth was the one rolling his eyes. "Okay, well, heterosexual American men don't wear Speedos."
"Competitive swimmers wear Speedos."
He brushed aside her triumphant tone. "That's different. Swimming is all about aerodynamics and cutting through the water without creating drag. It's not about, you know, wearing your underwear in public."
Safely behind him, Brennan allowed her gaze to roam his tall, muscular form at will. "Do you wear that type of underwear?"
"No, I do not."
"Oh."
His feet hit the ground loudly as he stomped ahead.
"Stop thinking about me in a Speedo, Bones. It's not happening."
Her lips curved in a teasing smile. "That's too bad. It would probably be very flattering."
Booth tossed a roguishly handsome grin over his shoulder.
"Oh, I would look great," he smirked. "Definitely better than that guy." One jerk of his thumb indicated the couple that was now out of view.
Brennan made a scolding tsk tsk. "Don't be superficial."
"Did you see his gut? And all that hair?" He shuddered visibly.
A thought occurred to her.
"Why don't you have hair on your chest?"
The sudden question brought Booth to an abrupt halt.
He turned around to look at her. "What?"
Brennan eyed him closely. "Your arms and legs show an average amount of hair for a man your age and you have a heavy growth of beard at the end of the day, even when you've shaved in the morning." She shrugged. "I'm just curious."
He rubbed a hand across the smooth skin covering his pectoral muscles. "You don't like my chest?"
"What?" She looked at him in surprise. "No, I didn't say that. It's . . . fine."
He stood in the middle of the path, his face full of outrage. "My chest is fine?"
"Yes," she nodded, clueless as to the reason for his ire. "It's perfectly adequate."
"My chest is adequate?" He was definitely outraged. "Well, your . . ." Booth's glance roved her body, clad for the day in a black one piece suit cut high on each leg, with a sheer mesh insert over her abdomen. "Never mind." He stalked away, grumbling words she couldn't hear.
A few minutes later they reached the fork in the path that led to the platform they'd jumped from previously. Brennan stopped him with a touch on his shoulder and pointed to the sign indicating the highest cliff.
"Let's try that one."
Booth looked at her uncertainly. "Are you sure? That's a good ten feet above where we've been jumping."
"Yes, I'm sure," she nodded. "I only waited to suggest it until I was comfortable with your abilities."
He blinked. "Until you were comfortable with my abilities?"
"Yes. I wanted to see how you handled a jump from the lower level first."
He stared at her without expression.
"You did."
"Yes. Now that I've seen you dive, I'm confident you can handle the higher elevation without getting hurt."
"You are."
"Yes." She smiled at him happily. "So, do you want to go all the way up?"
Booth threw up his hands dramatically. "Sure! Let's go all the way up now that you're satisfied I won't get a boo boo." He marched to the entrance for the higher path, muttering beneath his breath. "Damn woman. I bet I could wear a Speedo now. My balls have probably shrunk to nothing."
"What?" Brennan called out from behind him. "Did you say something?"
"Nope. Not a word."
.
.
.
By sunset they were both exhausted and yawning, having spent the day diving, playing in the water and then climbing back up the paths to do it all again until Brennan finally judged them too tired to handle any potential emergency that might result from a bad jump. Booth allowed her to call it quits, all the while maintaining that he was perfectly capable of continuing for several more hours.
They collected their belongings from a locker at the base of the cliffs and pulled on t-shirts and shorts over damp bathing suits. After a cursory search of the surrounding establishments, they chose a casual restaurant with outside tables shaded by colorful umbrellas and attacked an early dinner as if they were starving. Booth's usually well-groomed hair stuck up in messy spikes, Brennan's nose was dusted with the faint trace of new freckles and as they laughed and ate and drank slushy drinks filled with too much rum, the world shifted a bit more on its axis, nudging them closer together.
A quick phone call brought Jerrick hurrying to pick them up; lulled by physical exhaustion, full stomachs and alcohol, the bumpy swaying of the car soon had them slumped against each other, fast asleep. By the time the dented little vehicle pulled to a stop in front of the bed and breakfast, they had to be nudged awake.
Still yawning, they climbed the stairs to their room and once inside, made quick work of showers and night-time preparations. When Brennan switched off the light as she left the bathroom, Booth was waiting in the curtained bed. She slipped into his open arms as easily as if she'd been doing it for thirty . . . forty . . . fifty years. For once, there were no whispers in the dark, just the rustle of sheets . . . and the shifting of feet and legs . . . and the soft breathing of two people falling together into the comfort of sleep.
When Booth woke several hours later, his seeking hands found only cool, empty space. He glanced at the open door to the dark bathroom before his gaze swept the room. Brennan was on the balcony, elbows on the railing, seemingly entranced in the play of moonlight over water.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" She didn't look back.
"It is." He stood behind her, arms wrapped around her waist, and rested his chin in the softness of her hair.
They spoke in whispers, in voices that didn't carry beyond their small perch.
"I used to think the beach was my most favorite place in the world."
"Used to?" He nuzzled his cheek against her temple.
"Well, I've since seen many beautiful locations," she explained, "so it's more difficult to choose a favorite now. But it is lovely."
"Yes, it is."
She sighed deeply and leaned against him.
"When I was a young child, our family took a vacation trip ever year and we would frequently travel to a beach resort. My dad could make the most intricate sandcastles." She fell silent for a moment of reflection. "He was a science teacher and I always believed he used some sort of secret formula to keep the walls in place. But at the end of the day, the tide always came in and the waves always destroyed the sandcastle. When I complained," she laughed, "my mother told me that every time a wave destroyed a sandcastle, an octopus rebuilt it at the bottom of the ocean."
Unseen behind her, Booth smiled. "That's a great story. You should remember it so you can tell your own kids some day."
Brennan shrugged. "I don't plan on having children. I'm not exactly the maternal type."
"Never say never." He squeezed her closer. "Life changes constantly." His head tilted as a new sound registered in the distance. "Do you hear that?"
From somewhere in the darkness that surrounded them, a woman sang, accompanied by the slow wail of a saxophone. The words were unintelligible, her voice a mere suggestion drifting in the summer night.
Booth turned her smoothly in his arms. "Dance with me."
She linked her arms around his neck. "There isn't much room here for dancing."
"How much room do we really need?"
Serenaded by the sound of the ocean and the music floating toward them from the distance, they swayed in place where they stood. Booth's hands rested on her hips, then spread over her back, all the while pulling her closer. Brennan offered no protest, even when his rough palms smoothed their way up her shoulders to gently cradle her face. Instead, she melted into his embrace and met his kiss with eagerness.
What had been a soft melding of his lips against hers became something . . . more. Breaths became ragged, caresses turned urgent. Holding on to each other, they stumbled back into their room and fell together into a bed that felt like an Eden created just for them. Inside yards of sheer gauze that fluttered with every passing current of air, cotton and silk burned away with a touch, leaving bare skin exposed to hands that trembled with passion. The broken whisper of his name faded into the harsh release of hers, the words swept away by a gentle breeze that brushed over two people straining to crawl into each others skin . . .
And in that moment, everything changed.
When she opened for him . . . when he pushed into her body for the first time . . . they paused together for the length of a heartbeat . . . and then another . . . And then there was nothing to do but hold on as the ground shifted beneath them.
In a tangle of legs twined together . . . in clutching fingers digging into a broad back . . . from lips swollen with kisses that never ended and beneath the scrape of teeth against a jaw arched taut from pleasure, they created something new. They flowed together . . . moved together . . . merged together, crossing boundaries she'd thought finite . . . solving mysteries he'd considered lost.
The journey they'd begun separately, as two people taking different paths, ended when they shattered in each others arms and the broken pieces of what they had been refitted themselves into what they could be.
Hours . . . eons . . . later, Booth suckled at the still frantic pulse beating in the hollow of her throat, and listened to the gallop of his own heartbeat.
"Bones?"
The graveled whisper raised new goosebumps over her skin.
She muttered something incoherent.
"What's two plus two?" He nibbled at the spot just where her neck met her shoulder.
"Wh . . . what?" Eyes closed, Brennan dropped her head lower on her pillow to give him easier access to the sensitive area.
Booth nipped just a bit harder before he rolled to his back and pulled her across his chest. Oozing with male satisfaction, he closed his eyes and folded her close.
"Never mind. Just checking."
The minutes blended together before her cheek rubbed against his chest.
"I concede the point."
.
Thanks for reading!