An early May breeze set tree branches dancing and swept over Brennan, dipping cool fingers into the low neck of the wrap blouse she'd worn for her date. Her skin prickled with goosebumps as she hurriedly unlocked her front door and stepped inside her apartment.

"Did you kiss him?"

Startled by the disembodied voice filtering out from the darkness, she dropped her keys. They clattered to the floor, but she stood frozen, a hand at her throat, mouth dry and heart beating too fast in her chest, even as recognition set in. "Booth. What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you." There was a whisper of sound. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, the rest of the room gradually coming into focus, and Booth melted out of the shadows to stand in front of her.

"So you decided to break into my apartment?"

"I didn't break in. I used the key you gave me."

"I didn't give that to you to use whenever you want."

"I wouldn't have used it at all if it weren't important. So, did you kiss him?"

Ignoring him, she crouched to search for her keys. Booth kneeled too, and she heard the faint jingle as he scooped them up and then rose to his feet. A twinge of anger flared inside her. She reached for the keys nestled in the curve of Booth's palm, intending to snatch them away as quickly as possible. She wasn't fast enough; he caught her hand, sandwiching the keys between them.

"Answer my question," he said, his tone insistent – bordering on belligerent.

"No," she said, her voice cool and clipped. She allowed for a second's pause, listening to the sound of their breath and absorbing the warmth of his skin. "It wouldn't be your business even if I'd had sex with him." Booth didn't need to know that while she'd sat across the table from her date, sipping her wine and trying to smile politely as the evening dragged on, her mind had repeatedly flashed back to the warm pressure of Booth's mouth against hers.

His grip tightened fractionally. "Did you?"

She lifted her chin and met his gaze squarely. "No. I'm not in the habit of having intercourse with a man I've just met." The contrarian part of her wished she could say yes just for the pleasure of irritating him.

"Good." To her surprise, he released her and dropped her keys into her outstretched hand. "Why'd you go out with this guy anyway?"

Though she was well aware she didn't owe him any explanation, she found herself answering regardless. If it had been anyone else who'd asked the question, she would have simply ignored him or fixed him with her most quelling look. But it wasn't anyone else. It was Booth. "For the same reason anyone else dates – I have needs." She lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "For companionship and conversation and yes, even sex." Turning away, she switched on the hallway light before setting her keys inside her purse and placing the purse on the small console table near the door.

The heat from Booth's body alerted Brennan he'd moved in directly behind her. She waited for him to touch her. She was still waiting when she turned to face him. "I believe you have something that belongs to me," she said evenly, suppressing a surge of disappointment. Her gaze flickered from his face to the shirtsleeves rolled up over his forearms and back to his face, dissecting the tension that clung to his familiar features. "I want it back."

"What? You mean your lipstick?"

"Yes."

His expression altered, smoothly shifting into lines that bespoke a challenge. "If you want it, come get it," he said, slipping his hand into his right pant pocket and wiggling his fingers before pulling them out.

Straightening her spine, Brennan stepped forward, her heels tapping a staccato beat against the hardwood floor. Without looking away, she slid her hand into Booth's pocket, careful not to touch anything more than the charcoal fabric.

"Careful, Bones." Obsidian eyes held hers, and she forgot to breathe. "You're playing with fire."

Her fingertips brushed what felt like her lipstick case; she gripped it and extracted it, exhaling in a rush.

When she would have stepped back, Booth spoke, his words stilling her movement. "I can't do this anymore," he said, shaking his head, his voice pitched so low she had to strain to hear it.

Brennan blinked. "I don't understand," she said, eyebrows knitting in a frown. "What can't you do?"

"This." He waved his hand between them. "Play these stupid games. Pretend I don't want you."

"You want me?"

He laughed, the jagged sound skittering over and through her. "I've been thinking about you since you left for your date. I can't seem to get you out of my head. It's not fair, but maybe you need me to be the one to say it first. So this is me saying it: yes, I want you." The laughter faded, the grooves around his mouth deepening. "I can't stand watching you date other men anymore. And if you need to hear me say that before you'll stop punishing me, then so be it."

Brushing her hair back from her face, she hoped he wouldn't notice the way her hand shook. "I'm… I'm not punishing you." It was a blatant lie – one she desperately hoped he wouldn't catch.

"No? What do you call telling me you kissed me back because it was a reflex?"

"The truth."

"That's not the truth, Bones. That's you in denial." An enigmatic smile just touched his lips before disappearing. "We've been dancing around this for months. Probably longer than that." He moved closer; she retreated. This continued until Booth had cornered her, the heat and solidity of him forcing her back until she stood pressed against the cold door.

"I'm done dancing."

He hadn't touched her. Not yet. But then he hadn't needed to. She could feel him, anticipation sharpening her senses almost painfully. "What are you saying?" she asked, moistening lips that felt dry and sensitive.

His gaze lingered on her mouth. "I'm saying what you and I both know: we're attracted to each other. When I kissed you today, when you kissed me on Christmas Eve, it sure as hell meant something." Anger overlaid his statements; it dripped from each word. "All of it means something."

Brennan blinked rapidly, words of dissent rising inside her only to die in her throat.

The man watching her so intently didn't frighten her. No, it wasn't fear that made her flatten her palms against the door at her back. It was desire.

The boldly patterned tie Booth had worn earlier in the day was abandoned somewhere, and the top three buttons of his white dress shirt were undone, revealing the skin at his throat. The white glowed faintly in the dim light. Tibia, fibula, patella, she chanted silently, grasping for the control that seemed to be spinning away with alarming rapidity as she observed the rhythmic rise and fall of her partner's chest.

"Now," he said, drawing her attention back to his face, "unless you tell me to stop, I'm going to kiss you again. Not to prove a point. Not because I'm being blackmailed. Because I want to -- and you want me to."

Dark eyes searched her face as Booth lifted his hands and braced them against the door, on either side of her. His breath brushed her face, and her stomach clenched. "What do you say, Bones, you ready to stop dancing?"

Author's Note: Sorry, I couldn't leave well enough alone. I'm feeling restless and blocked, so this is a way for me to hopefully work out some kinks. If you have a sec, let me know what you thought.