A/N: Now, we're all grown ups (or we should be with that M rating)! You've got to know there's going to be some B&B talkin' before there's any B&B lovin'. This is the talkin'. Plus maybe a little bit more ;) With thanks to everyone who's read, reviewed and alerted and extra special merci's to the lovely cathmarchr - thanks blossie!
Oh, just a little note: 'thrust device' is the proper term. I looked it up.
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my soul, and I even lend that out on occasion, but only if you ask nice. Anything that even looks familiar in this story probably belongs to someone else (except the actual story - that's all mine, Mine, MINE [*maniacal laughter*]!)
Chapter Four: So, what does that feel like?
Booth wiped the last smudges of shaving cream from just below his sideburn, smoothing his palm over the now soft skin of his cheek with a grin. His teeth worried the flesh of his top lip as he ran his eyes over the meagre contents of his bathroom shelf. His hand hovered over a tall flat bottle, then a squat ovoid one. Nah, the other one. He splashed a little of the pale amber liquid into his hands and then onto his face, enjoying the faint burn. He hesitated, then took his handkerchief out of his trouser pocket and trickled a few drops onto the soft fabric, folding the square back together and putting it back into his pocket. Didn't want to overdo it. He studied his reflection, peering first one way then the next, and tweaked a spike of hair until he was satisfied.
Back in the bedroom, he cracked the cellophane wrapping on a new dress shirt, shaking out the folds with a snap of his wrist. He slipped the white cotton over his shoulders, the tails billowing out behind him. Muted music coming from the clock radio at the side of his bed had registered on his brain at some level and his feet unconsciously moved in time with the beat. He felt great. With the ease of practice he flipped back the shirt's double cuffs and inserted small gold cufflinks in the shape of crossed bones that had been a gift from Brennan on his birthday last year. His eyes crinkled with affection as he recalled the diffidence with which she'd passed him the small parcel, not meeting his eyes.
"Bones, you got me bones." He'd been really touched, and it had shown. Brennan had drawn him away from the bright lights of the bar to a quiet corner of the room. The rest of the squints were laughing raucously at some joke Hodgins had told, but the sounds from the bar had faded into grey as he'd stared at her gift.
"They're supposed to represent the humerus, the long bone in the upper arm." She'd explained, her voice gruff. "The clerk at the store said they had to be humerus because they were humorous." She'd pulled a face, "I've never understood why people always find that funny."
"He was just being friendly, Bones." He'd replied softly, letting the pad of his thumb rub gently across the surface of one of the cufflinks, enjoying the hard smoothness of the metal.
Brennan was still concerned with debunking a pun she'd heard hundreds of times since college. "The plural of humerus is humeri which makes a nonsense of the rhyme." She'd rolled her eyes, making him smile. "Anyway, if you look closely at the design the trochlea and coronoid fossa are disproportionate in size to the distance from the deltoid tuberosity." She'd crossed her arms over her chest defensively when he started to laugh at her. Then she'd taken the satin covered box back from him, inspecting the contents closely, and a small smile had crept across her lips. "Nevertheless I do think that they're cute." She'd passed them back peremptorily, colour flooding her face. "But they are anatomically inaccurate."
Her attempt to devalue the sentiment that passed with the gift hadn't fooled him; she always tried not to look pleased whenever he wore them, and failed. Besides, for some reason it really bugged the hell out of her when he left his cuffs undone, so of course he tended to do that a lot just to needle her. Either way she always noticed.
He refocused back to the task at hand, running his finger down a hanger. Tie, tie, tie. Had to be something good. A grin split his face and he reached for the one with the dancing dolphins. That ought to get a reaction.
He slid his belt through the loops, settling the leather on his hips. Cocky belt buckle front and centre. He patted his trouser pockets. Poker chip, lighter, dice … everything. He wasn't leaving anything to chance today. He ran his tongue over his lips, suddenly feeling tense.
He fingered the fine wool of his suit jacket where it hung on the back of his bedroom door and tried to convince himself that it was an investment. The amount on the price tag could have powered a small European principality for a week. He slid his arms through the sleeves and experimentally buttoned it up, marvelling at the fit, before popping the buttons undone again. It was like a second skin; worth every cent. He tugged at the cuffs of his shirt so they showed a good inch and a half below the dark blue.
He started to walk away, spinning back around at the last moment for a final check in the mirror. He nodded once at his reflection, his expression buoyant.
Game on.
~o0o~
Booth was clicking the thrust device of his pen, in and out, in time with the ringing of the phone while he waited for his call to go through. The call picked up and he spoke without waiting for a greeting.
"Bones? What are you up to?"
"Booth. Wait a second." She put her hand over the phone and excused herself from the group of investors she was in the process of showing around the lab. She continued in a hushed tone. "I'm back."
"What's up? You sound preoccupied."
She tossed a disparaging look at the four men she'd been lumbered with. "I'm just in the middle of something. What do you want?"
"I thought we'd get together for a coffee? I want to ask you something. Twenty minutes?"
"I can't." She chewed on her lower lip, anxiety tightening across her chest. The heat that had been so rapidly generated between them in the pool on Saturday had shocked her, sending her metaphorically running for cover. She'd spent the rest of the weekend at the Jeffersonian, trying to convince herself she wasn't hiding from him. Her evenings had been an edgy combination of half expecting his knock on her door or his name on her cell phone display. Even now, recalling how close they'd come to crossing that precious line, she felt desire for him quiver through her body.
Brennan had begun to think he might just be willing to let their close call at the pool go without further comment, and had let herself start to relax, but something in his voice now suggested otherwise. If she were honest with herself, just hearing his voice sent the sensations tumbling through her parietal lobes again. She drew a shaky breath, keeping her voice even with an effort. "I won't be free until lunchtime. Can't you ask me whatever it is now?" she ended hopefully, happy to believe she may have misjudged his reason for calling.
"Nuh-uh. This has to be face-to-face. S'okay, I can wait." I've waited this long, he thought with heavy irony. He'd spent his entire Sunday planning his course of action today, and so far it wasn't going well. He glanced dispiritedly at the take out coffees he bought on the way to work. Two cups, stone cold. He'd intended to be at the Jeffersonian with them first thing this morning, but a phone call had put the kibosh on that. He'd only just got back from the court house where he'd been sent to babysit a witness for another agent who had called in sick.
He slammed the phone down in frustration, causing a few heads in the bullpen to turn his way. He forced himself to relax, leaning back in his chair and watching the bubble in the neck of his favourite pen gradually reveal its secrets, letting the tension in his shoulders drain away. He was a patient man, he could wait a little longer. She said she was free for lunch; he'd head over to the Jeffersonian at about one o'clock and take her by surprise.
~o0o~
"Where is she?" Booth had already completed a circuit of the almost empty lab, ending up at Cam's office, and he was starting to get a bit antsy. "Where the hell is everybody?" It was only just after one.
"It's lunchtime, Booth, we're quiet and it's a nice day outside. Mostly everyone's at lunch. That's where I'd be too, if I didn't have this -" she indicated a mountain of paperwork "- to get done." She initialed another form and placed it in her 'out' tray with a flourish. The look she gave him from under her lashes was faintly amused. "If you're looking for Dr Brennan, I believe she and Angela have gone to lunch too. Something about 'girl time', if I understood Angela correctly." She folded her hands in her lap and regarded the FBI agent steadily. "Was Dr Brennan expecting you?"
When the only answer Booth gave was the hiss of his breath expelled through clenched teeth, a sympathetic look crossed her face and she swiveled her chair to face him. She flicked a look down the length of him and smiled. Apart from looking pretty darn sharp, he also looked decidedly put out. "Something going on here I should know about, big guy?"
Booth narrowed his eyes with faint suspicion. "No, why? What have you heard?" His tone edged on belligerent. He seriously doubted whether Brennan had said anything to anyone about what had happened between them at the pool, but Cam could be freakishly perceptive at times. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck wearily, returning her smile with vague apology.
She regarded him for a long moment before answering. "I haven't heard a thing. But I know you." She gave him another keen look. "You and Brennan have another fight or something? Want to tell Aunty Cam?" This last bit made him smile, as she had meant it to; there was nothing remotely materteral about Cam and she knew it.
He hesitated for a heartbeat, knowing it would be cathartic to get the whole damn thing off his chest, before flashing her a rueful smile.
"Nah, thanks Cam. This one's for Bones and me to deal with, one way or the other."
~o0o~
Five o'clock. Booth pulled the door of the conference room closed behind him, at long last escaping from the deep rumble of voices that would probably continue late into the night.
Work had overtaken his personal plans yet again. When he'd returned to the Hoover Building after his wasted trip to the Jeffersonian he'd been mad enough to kick an intern. Then, before he could even finish his coffee, he'd been called straight in for a consult on an ongoing investigation that had crossed over into one of his own. The complex financial twists and turns of the other agent's case had hijacked him for most of the afternoon. Finance definitely wasn't his forte and the time had dragged by with agonizing slowness.
He checked his phone again, hoping for a message or a missed call. Nothing. He keyed text onto the screen, his thumb hovering over the buttons. With a sigh he hit 'send'.
Call me.
~o0o~
Brennan looked at the clock for the umpteenth time that afternoon; it was almost six. Suddenly she stilled and shot a glance over her shoulder warily; she could hear him coming. His voice was only a murmur as he returned one or two greetings from those of her co-workers who were still at their desks. Most of the workstations were already empty as the techs drifted off home. She caught sight of him as he circled the forensic platform on his way to her office. She felt a little flutter of nervousness in her stomach. Ridiculous. It was Booth. Suddenly she recalled the feel of his breath against her mouth. Oh, god, it was Booth.
"Brennan, you're staring into space with a sappy look on your face. Are you coming down with something?" Angela's dry tone brought her out of her reverie, and Brennan fumbled with the cordless mouse on her desk, trying to give the impression she'd been in the middle of something. Angela reached out wordlessly and took the mouse out of Brennan's hand, spinning it so that it was the right way around. "It helps if you use it like this."
Brennan frowned, unsettled by the lack of composure she was experiencing. "I was just - "
"Hey Bones." Suddenly he was there, leaning indolently against the door frame, hands in his pockets, mouth-watering smile curving his lips. "You didn't call me back." Brennan stiffened involuntarily at the softly spoken words, taken by surprise regardless of how aware of his arrival she had been.
After a quick nod acknowledging his greeting Brennan kept her eyes studiously on the open document displayed on her computer, typing nonsense in an effort to look busy. Angela had no such reservations; she swung around at the sound of his voice and let out a low whistle.
"Whew, G-man. Looking good." She took a step towards him, running a finger down the underside of the lapel of his jacket. "New suit?" Booth nodded, and he flicked her a gratified smile, but his attention slewed back to Brennan almost immediately. Angela realised with surprise that Brennan was avoiding meeting his eyes. Interesting.
Angela flicked a glance between the two partners, suspicion prickling her senses. With Brennan it was always hard to tell what was going on in that head of hers, but Angela took another look at the tall man in the doorway. Booth looked different somehow. Sizzling hot, but that was a given. She couldn't put her finger on it, narrowing her eyes as she asked playfully, "Have you been revving up your workout, Agent Booth?"
This time Booth turned to look at her properly, a wide grin spreading across his face. "As a matter of fact Angela, Bones and I have started a new fitness regime."
Angela' brows shot up. "Oh really?" she said slowly, waiting for more.
"Laps." He pushed himself away from the door frame and came fully into the office to stand behind Brennan's chair. He leaned close and peered over her shoulder at what she'd been working on so diligently, and smirked when he saw that the only thing that fierce look of concentration she been wearing had produced was a screen load of gobbledegook.
Brennan hit the 'boss button' hastily and the Jeffersonian logo filled the screen. She still hadn't spared her partner more than that first surreptitious glance, but her back tingled with awareness. He was standing so close she could feel the radiant heat from his body.
Booth had stayed slightly bent and turned his head so that the next question was delivered close to her ear. "Isn't that right Bones? We were doing laps?" His breath teased her earlobe.
Color flooded the anthropologist's face; she wasn't quite sure what they were talking about anymore, but she found the words didn't really matter. She took a deep breath to calm herself, but only wound up filling her head with the teasing scent of him, a scent that was usually so comforting but today somehow disturbing.
"Laps?" Angela asked on a laugh, "Are we talking the sitting-on kind of lap or the track kind or what?"
"Neither. The pool kind." Booth straightened and watched for Brennan's reaction – there it was, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth and frowned a little. He wryly admitted to himself that was enjoying making her squirm; evidence that she wasn't impervious to the heat that had been generated between them that day in the water.
"You got Brennan into a swimming pool?" Angela cried, cutting through his thoughts. She turned to her friend incredulously. "I thought you told me swimming pools were like … petri dishes of disease or whatever?" She dropped the timbre of her voice, purring suggestively. "What happened, Bren, find the right kind of cure?" She sent a suggestive glance at Booth.
"No, wha -?" The frown that had been playing around Brennan's eyes turned into a full blown scowl. "Angela, what I said was indoor pools release toxic gases such as nitrogen trichloride which can be very dangerous. And bacteria and viruses thrive in a moist area like a pool." Caught up in what she was saying, she turned to Booth, enthusiasm for her subject lighting up her eyes. "Like Cryptosporidium parvum for example – the oocysts can survive in chlorinated water for days …"
Her voice trailed off. He'd taken the extra step to her desk and was now perched on its edge, close to her chair. His long legs were stretched out in front of him; an effective barrier blocking her escape. His thigh brushed her arm as he settled himself, and she couldn't ignore the rush that the glancing touch had given her. She looked up at him and watched as one side of his mouth lifted sardonically. The movement mesmerised her and the recurring memory of that mouth over hers pushed the science away again. She gave her head a little shake in an effort to break the spell and shuffled some paperwork.
Angela pulled a face, privately vowing never to go swimming in a pool again. "Eeuw, Brennan, way to kill the passion." She made the comment jokingly, but her friend's hands stilled and a wary look came over her face. Angela's expression became thoughtful. Even more interesting.
Brennan ignored the teasing comment and shot a look of annoyance at her partner. "What are you going here, Booth? Do we have a case?" Brennan was abrupt, almost rude, and she deliberately pushed her chair back a few inches, out of the danger zone.
"Nah, everything's quiet." Booth smiled calmly back at her, "I thought we should talk about our new fitness regime." The emphasis he placed on those two words made her eyes widen in alarm. They locked onto his, her trepidation plain. She tried to pretend to herself that she didn't know what he was talking about, but she wasn't that good a liar.
At Brennan's sharp intake of breath, Angela finally worked out how Booth was different. Dangerous. Booth looked dangerous, but in a subtly different way from when he had a murderer in his sights and he was hot on the trail. Angela was pretty sure he had an entirely different sort of prey in his sights right now. She looked at her friend with sympathy. She doubted whether Brennan's precious compartmentalizing could survive Booth if he really put his mind to the task. She smiled. Good.
"I'll leave you two to talk – er – fitness then, okay? I'm heading home." Angela edged towards the door.
"Sure, Angela, see ya." Booth still had his partner pinioned with his smile; his attention hadn't wavered.
Neither of them noticed Angela actually leave, or saw her step in front of Hodgins as he made his way to the office.
"Booth still around?" He enquired, trying to look past Angela, but she kept moving to block his view.
"Booth's not seeing anyone at the moment, Jack. Or, more accurately, he's only seeing Brennan." Angela's words didn't register with him straight away; he'd spotted Booth in Dr Brennan's office and made to head over that way, but her hand stayed him.
"But I need to talk to him about the game this weekend." He dragged his eyes away from his quarry and looked at her with a frown. "Huh? What did you say?"
Angela crossed her arms over her chest. "I said not now, bug boy."
"Oh." Hodgins peered narrowly over Angela's shoulder at the couple in the office. "Oh?" He drew the word out to a question, still confused. He watched as Booth leaned in close to Brennan and ran the back of one finger along her jaw line. Jack could see the color wash up over her face from where he was, but she held her ground. The body language cues being played out in front of him eventually registered on Jack's poor befuddled male brain. He looked back at Angela, a smile playing on his face. "Oh."
"It's been fun matching wits with you Jack, but we've got to go now." She tugged on his arm and he turned away reluctantly, half of him wanting to watch what was going on in Brennan's office. "That means you, too." She added pointedly.
"What brought this on?" Jack wanted to know, sending a last glance over his shoulder.
"I have no idea, but it's about freakin' time." She squeezed his arm as they walked towards the exit. "Let's get out of here and go home. We're pretty much the last ones here anyway." She said, unable to resist glancing back one last time. A satisfied smile curled her lips.
They flicked the main lab lights off as they left, leaving the glow from Brennan's office the only illumination in the vast space.
~o0o~
"Sure, Angela, see ya." Booth said the words automatically, his attention focussed on Brennan. She couldn't seem to look away from him either.
"What are you doing here, Booth?" The question was asked more gently this time, and a look of resignation settled over her features. He obviously had no intention of letting whatever was on his mind go so she decided she may well be patient. No doubt he'd get to the point in his own good time.
"Just wanted to see you." he replied softly, his voice like liquid gold. He leant forward, running the back of one finger along the deep angle of her jaw. He watched her closely, a tiny part him braced for the possibility of some sort of physical reprimand for his action.
She felt hot color sting her face at the unexpected intimacy of his touch, but she didn't pull back. "You only saw me the day before yesterday." She countered, her attitude brisk and businesslike.
"Mmm, sure did." He replied, his eyes touching every part of her. He wasn't going to give in that easily. Brennan was so used to him keeping to the rules of their relationship; she needed a bit of a shake up. "And what I saw was very … beautiful." He rolled his tongue around the word. It was a relief not to try and keep the honest pleasure out of his voice for a change. "Aren't you going return the compliment and tell me that I look good today?" he teased.
Brennan's gaze flickered over him despite herself, taking in the breadth of his shoulders, the excellent cut of the new suit … and that damn tie. She frowned at it, and her eyes shot up to his and met the smirk he couldn't conceal. She stood abruptly, disconcerted. But that action meant his eyes remained level and the warmth between them amplified when she realised he was now staring openly and appreciatively at her breasts. Awareness flooded through her and she willed her body not to react to his stare.
He'd never so blatantly admired her body before and she found it extremely unsettling. But she'd long ago mastered the art of pushing down the attraction between them and she drew on it now. Her hand was steady and the tranquil mask she usually wore around him was in place. She reached past him and picked up the file she'd planned working on and took it over to the sofa. Inside she was feeling a little desperate, hoping to get the dynamics back to normal by putting a bit of distance between them.
Booth had other plans; he followed, settling down close beside her on the sofa, his head lolling back onto the throw she had over the headrest. He edged over until they were touching from shoulder to thigh. He ran a finger lightly down the length of her arm in a touch halfway between a tickle and a caress and she shivered in response.
"Booth, stop it." She rounded on him, exasperated. "What are you doing?"
He tilted his head and fluttered his lashes facetiously, charming her easily. "Flirting with you."
She laughed at his antics, but with his words came the inevitable confusion. "I don't understand. You're flirting with me? Why?"
His expression slowly sobered. That was the moment he almost gave up. Almost. Without warning he leant forward and placed a kiss on her mouth, and felt her lips tremble under his before she started to back off. He deepened the kiss, and when she responded instinctively by parting her lips, he ran his tongue along the sensitive inner surface of her top lip. He felt a tremor run through her body, and then a matching tremor ran through his own.
He pulled back, looking at her intently. "That's why." He took a moment to calm down, panting from the rush their kiss had produced. "I told you it wasn't over."
Brennan's neck and face were flushed, her chest heaving with the effort it was taking to get herself back under control, but she managed it. She let go of the handfuls of his shirt she hadn't even been aware of bunching into her fists. Her eyes never left his face. When she finally spoke, her voice was composed, even cool. "I'm not going to have sex with you Booth."
He answered her calm assertion by taking possession of her mouth again, one hand threaded through her hair and the other pressing into her thigh. Her lips parted under his instantly, answering him touch for touch, tongue for tongue. So much heat shot between them he thought he would implode with the force of it. He finally lifted his head and looked into her dazed eyes.
"Wanna bet, Bones?" He barely breathed the words, and her eyes closed briefly as she processed their impact.
"I'm not having this conversation with you." Her voice was ragged, and when she pushed him away weakly he didn't resist, getting to his feet as she did. They eyed each other warily for a moment or two before she turned away.
He watched evenly as she threw her phone into her bag and scrabbled in the desk drawer for her keys. Several files were shoved haphazardly into her briefcase along with her laptop. When she propped the case against her desk and turned to get her jacket from the hook he was already there, silently holding it out for her. Slipping her arms into the sleeves, she murmured husky thanks.
But Booth had no intention of letting her run away this time. He took a deep breath through his nose. Make or break, this was the moment.
She sensed he was about to speak, and pre-empted him with a rush of words, keeping her eyes studiously pinned to the floor. "We're partners, Booth. The best in our field. I don't want that to change." Only then did she look up at him, disconcerted to find that he'd silently moved closer to her, and was only a hand's-breadth away.
"That doesn't have to change." He moved his feet slightly and deliberately nudged his hip into hers. She edged back until she felt the gentle bump of the wall against her ass. Booth placed a hand flat against the wall on either side of her head, encircling her with his arms but not touching her in any other way. They shared a brief, faintly ironic look, the memory of being in almost the same position at the pool uppermost on both their minds.
"We have different expectations of sex, Booth. It might not turn out the way we imagine." She said, trying to use reason to deflect him. She tried to ignore the way he was looking at her even while his expression sent a shiver down her spine.
"But you've at least imagined having sex with me?" He purred, leaning his forehead against hers for the briefest moment before giving her a sideways glance. "Are you worried you won't like it?" He smirked, shifting his legs so that hers were trapped between his own. He flexed his thighs until they touched hers, watching her face all the while, her quickly indrawn breath his reward.
She scoffed lightly at his tongue-in-cheek question, shaking her head for emphasis. Her hair brushed his face, teasing him with its silkiness. She tried another tack. "We don't really see eye to eye on a lot of things."
"We do on the important stuff." He nuzzled her neck, sprinkling kisses along her jaw. When he heard her groan faintly, he pulled back and looked at her seriously.
"I couldn't care less what words you use, Bones. I know you want me."
"Wanting's never been the issue, Booth." She replied dryly.
That revelation shut him up, but only temporarily. Somehow her hands had found their way to his chest and she tracked the leap of his heartbeat through the sensitive flesh of her palms. "Then what's the issue?" He asked distractedly.
She turned her face away before replying. "Belonging." Her hands kneaded lazy circles on his chest, the fleshy part at the base of her thumbs grazing his nipples every so often, and he felt possessed by her touch.
"Huh? You're turning my brain inside out." He mumbled, the sensations her actions generated pushing everything else out of his conscious mind. He doubted whether she even realised the effect her touch has having on him.
"That's not physically possible." She pointed out. Her hands stilled with the statement and he tried to pull himself back together.
"No, but it's emotionally possible." His expression lent his words emphasis.
Her voice was so low when she replied that he had to duck his head to hear the words. "I wouldn't know about that."
"What, you don't have emotions?" He shifted his head again so that he could see her eyes, but she turned her face the other way, evading him.
Her mouth primmed to a thin line. "I try not to."
"And that works for you?" His question was just a little incredulous, laughter at its base.
She shrugged, her attitude suddenly defensive. "Mostly."
He watched the conflicting emotions she tried so hard to ignore wash across her face. "So if I do this -," He trapped her bottom lip between his teeth with teasing pressure, pressing his hips experimentally into hers. She didn't shy away from the evidence of his arousal, and he increased the pressure pleasurably. " - you don't feel anything?"
"Of course I feel something." This time her hands snaked around his ribcage. "Your arousal causes your sebaceous, sweat and other glands to produce a pheromone plume that my olfactory receptors can sense neurologically." She was trying to create a distance with words where she'd failed to create it physically. Her sense of self-preservation kicked in instinctively, seeking from pure habit to deflect the course these moments were taking. "The concept of coding efficiency holds that sensory neurons are adapted, through both evolutionary and developmental processes, to the statistical characteristics of their natural stimulus. The correlation of olfactory, auditory and neural stimuli is the process that produces the net result." She saw him wince faintly at the clinical description and hurried to fill the silence with more facts. "The quantitative properties of both the natural stimulus and the reception processes are predictable, within recognised limits." She finally fell silent when she realised Booth seemed to be holding his breath, a glazed expression on his face. "What's the matter? Is something unclear?"
He let his breath out in a whoosh. "No, it's just when you string that many squinty things together in one go, sometimes I lose my breath a bit." He let his body relax into her, still keeping the contact light. "I know all of that, well -" he pulled a wry face, "most of it. You've explained it to me before, plenty. Why do you always have to talk all squinty?" He complained softly, probing her neck with his nose, taking pleasure in the scent of her.
She arched her neck to give him better access and her preoccupation with the sensations his delicate touches were producing left her words unguarded. "You quote saints, I talk … squinty." At the look of realization that flashed into his eyes, she tensed, afraid that but revealing that ploy she'd revealed so much more. Her conscience jabbed at her; he was her best friend, he deserved the truth. "I'm producing pheromones too." She admitted reluctantly, and Booth's smile spread slowly across his face as he connected the dots.
"Really?" His smile was tinged with a certain amount of arrogance, but it sat well on him. He pushed the boundaries a little more. "But I want to know what you're feeling?"
Ever the scientist, Brennan responded literally. "My nipples are tingling and my breasts feel heavier."
Her response brought a bark of laughter from him, quickly stifled. "Jeez, Bones, sometimes …" He flicked a sardonic look at his partner. "Well, I'll admit that's a start, but it's not what I meant. What else?"
"I'm experiencing other physiological responses; genital vasocongestion and vaginal lubrication."
Booth looked nonplussed. "Is that normal?" he croaked.
Brennan's lips curled ironically. "I'd say it was completely normal. Around you." He didn't quite believe what he was hearing and a frown crossed his brow. Her arms crept further around his waist, wanting to reassure him. She put her face close to his and whispered confidentially, "I'm very aroused."
"Really? That's gotta be good. What else, other than being -" he kissed her mouth quickly "- aroused?"
She considered his question, grimacing faintly. "I feel a high level of nervous tension in my abdomen."
"That's just butterflies." He was blithely dismissive but the haunted quality that now tinged her expression jolted him. Guilt at the way he was pushing her niggled at him. He knuckled her chin, bring her face up to his so that he could see her properly. "Isn't it?"
Her innate honesty supplied the answer. "I'm not sure what you actually mean by 'butterflies' but I am feeling very anxious."
Booth felt his breath catch in his throat at the admission. "Bones, do you want me to stop?
An expression of sorrow engulfed her beautiful face and tears welled in her eyes. Doubts crowded in on her, crushing her. She wanted to do what was right. She had to do what was right. So she nodded 'yes', her arms sliding away, fingers snagging at the last moment on his belt, then falling away completely.
Booth felt his shoulders droop as the fight drained out of him, disappointment and frustration kicking him the gut. Reluctantly he pushed himself away the wall so that she was no longer without an escape route. But before he could take the step backwards that would separate them completely, he heard her give a little whimper at the loss of contact. She grabbed his lapels, suddenly bereft. As she dragged him back into her body, her whispered, "No!" was more evocative than any shout.
Resisting her didn't even cross his mind, and as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, the swell of emotion he felt as their bodies slid together almost overwhelmed him. They fit together like two pieces of the same whole.
"'No', what?" He needed to hear the words.
"No, I don't want you to stop." Her voice was a husky sigh and the sound pierced his heart.
"You're sure?"
She nodded, a tremulous smile lighting her face. She felt wrung out from the emotions the last few minutes had engendered, but at the same time knew that this was right.
"Kiss me." He demanded softly.
She lifted her face to his, tenderly pressing a kiss against his lips.
"So, where do you want to go from here, Bones?"
A wicked grin replaced the smile and she looked up at him from under heavy lids, in no doubt whatsoever. "Your place?"
Did you really think I'd leave it there? I won't leave you hanging for long - promise!