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'I cannot believe how tired I am.'

It had been a very long week, and it was only Wednesday. No, it was, technically, at least, Thursday. But still, the week *had* been very long. And boring.

Ziva David rolled over and pummeled her pillow into a more comfortable shape, before throwing herself back onto it with a heavy sigh.

'For God's sake,' she thought, 'at this rate, I will never get any sleep.'

She wasn't sure why she was in such a petulant mood, but she really hated herself when she got this way.

'What is so wrong with boring, David? You have spent most of the past year dealing with one crisis after another, and now you are complaining because this has been a quiet week? You most definitely need help,' she told herself.

Besides, it really hadn't been *that* bad of a week. There had been a few high points. She began going over them in her mind, hoping that counting relative blessings might act as a sleep aide, if counting goats wouldn't work.

But, damn it, she was just too restless, and, try as she might, she couldn't fall asleep. She knew that if Tali had come to her and said that she couldn't
sleep, she'd have fixed her hot chamomile tea with honey. But Ziva hadn't taken her own advice, and so here she was, in the middle of the night, still
tossing and turning in that lonely bed.

She'd already been tired before going to the dinner for the Sudanese president at the White House tonight, and, mentally going over her schedule for tomorrow, she suddenly remembered that she had a meeting scheduled for 0700 hours. 'What idiot schedules a meeting so damned early in the morning?' she demanded, silently.

Part of the problem, she knew, was hormonal. It was *that* time of the month, "Baby week," as her Grandmother Miriam had delicately referred to it. There was an egg, sitting up there in her fallopian tubes, just waiting to be fertilized.

'Well, that is just too damned bad, egg! It is not going to happen this month, or any other month for the foreseeable future,' Ziva groused to herself.

Grandmother Miriam had also said to let Nature take its course, whenever possible.

'Ha! That was easy for her to say; she had Grandfather Aaron. I don't have anyone. Not Ray. Not Michael. No one.'

Not that she wanted either one of them. But it had been a very long time, and the only man she'd felt the slightest tingle for in months had been Anthony Dinozzo, of all people.

Okay, that was a big mistake, thinking about Tony in her present condition. But it had been like that all week; she couldn't keep her mind off sex. Or, for some reason, off of Tony. She normally had better self-control over her hormones, but apparently not this month.

'Yes, that is the problem, Ninja. Blame it all on your hormones.'

First, there had been that tennis game at the Congressional Racquet Club last weekend. She'd gotten completely distracted in the middle of a doubles match with Emma Park, Josh Latham, and, most surprising, Tony, who had gone to college with Josh. She hadn't realized that Tony was back in DC, after going to New York to spend New Year's Eve with his father.

'I mean, it was not like I missed him,' she told herself, huffily. 'I just wondered how he was doing. Where he was. What he was doing. But I did *not* miss him!'

Even more surprising than seeing Tony back in DC, was the realization of just how attractive he'd looked. Despite the fact that they'd become quite a bit closer in recent months, she was never really sure if Tony even liked her very much.

But, still, whether Tony liked her or not, it had been incredibly stupid of her to let herself get distracted by the man's chest...

'And, oh, my, what a nice chest it is, too!'

...in the middle of a tennis match, even if he had just come into her field of vision. No wonder she had tripped over her own feet and fallen on the court. Had she been embarrassed by her lack of attention? No. Had she been annoyed by the knowledge of the inevitable bruises that would follow her inadvertent fall? No. Instead, she'd been rather turned on by the incident.

Then, of course, Tony had been the one that came over to help her get up. Which had been going from bad to worse. She had taken one look at the large hand he held out to her, and her mind had suddenly flashed on the idea
of those hands of his moving on her body, caressing her from her waist to her breasts, his fingers stroking her nipples. He had nice hands, supple and strong, and curiously gentle. She had just stayed there on the ground for a moment, blushing, trying to compose her thoughts, before she let him help her stand up.

'I hope he did not notice me blushing. I wonder if he noticed how erect my nipples were, or the way they pushed against my shirt? Oh, God, I hope not. Damn it, Ziva! At this rate, you are never going to get to sleep tonight.'

Ziva suddenly realized that she had become incredibly aware of her own breasts. Her nipples were rock hard, and, as she rolled over in her lonely bed, her nightshirt rubbed against them, teasing them even further. Teasing was all well and good, but she'd been teasing herself, one way or another, all week long. Not to mention tonight, at the dinner party.

She wondered what in hell had possessed her to sit there and stare at Tony's very fine ass that evening? Well, it was certainly more interesting than the
dinner itself had been, even with all those good-looking men wearing tuxedos and dress uniforms.

'I was Googling him, for God's sake,' she scolded herself. 'Of course, Tony does have a very nice ass; hell, he has a fantastic ass, the kind that makes me just want to... Okay, if I am going to get *any* sleep tonight, I need to drag my mind out of the gutter it is currently inhabiting,' she sternly told herself.

She wondered if Senora Ramirez, who had been sitting across from her at dinner, had known what she was thinking - or worse, feeling? Probably, but the Spanish Ambassador's wife had looked like she thought the not-so-subtle glances she and Tony had been throwing each other all evening long incredibly amusing. Ziva sincerely hoped that no one else, especially Gibbs, McGee, had noticed what had been going on.

'Well, it is obvious that I am not going to get any sleep this way. Good-bye, nightshirt!' The skimpy silk gown flew threw the air and landed on a chair.

God, it felt wonderful to take her clothes off. There had been times tonight when she was sure everyone could see her nipples, straining at the bodice of her gown. She wondered if Tony had noticed them at dinner. Oh, why did this always happen? Why couldn't she get her mind out of the gutter tonight?

And Tony had looked *so* very attractive in that tuxedo. There had been a moment tonight, when they were standing together, alone, in the hallway outside of her apartment, when the idea of just forgetting about all of her uncertainties, of forgetting about Gibbs and his rules, of just crawling into Tony's arms and letting her feelings take her wherever they wanted, had briefly crossed her mind. But then his cell phone had shrilled out its demand for attention, and she had simply said good night, before turning away and walking into her apartment and closing the door behind her.

She'd known that Tony had wanted her. She'd recognized that look on his face; the slightly glazed look in his eyes, the way he kept moistening his lips. It was the kind of sexual tension between a man and a woman that was virtually impossible to miss. Even for someone as evidently ignorant about men and their behavior as she seemed to be.

'Oh, come now, Ziva. Stop thinking about this,' she whined.

She'd never get to sleep at this rate, and she was going to have to be on her toes at that early meeting. Well, there was one surefire way to relax, even if it wasn't nearly as much fun to do all by yourself.

She'd wanted to just pull Tony into her apartment, shutting the door on everyone and everything else, and drag him with her into her bedroom.

'I wonder what he would do...'

Lowering his head, he'd kiss her gently. The next kiss would be firmer, and her lips would give way, just slightly, beneath his. She'd gasp slightly, as the
very tip of his tongue brushed lightly and sensuously over her mouth. As her lips softened beneath his, he'd gently thrust his tongue into her mouth. She'd be able to taste the brandy he'd had at dinner on his breath, and that would excite her, just a little. Tentatively at first, her tongue would seek his out, fencing with his. For a long time, they'd just stand there, their mouths hungrily exploring each other, their bodies pressed against each other.

Then, finally, reaching up, he would loosen her hair, and it would fall down to her shoulders, his hands sliding through it, singling out one curl, which he'd take between two fingers and kiss. Reaching up, she'd softly caress his jawline, feeling the faint stubble of whiskers beneath her fingertips.

She'd undo his tuxedo jacket, and push it off of his shoulders and down his arms, dropping it to the floor. Then she'd undo his bow tie and the studs on his shirt, baring him to the waist. He'd be very close to her, and she'd be able to smell the male scent of him, along with just a hint of his cologne.

'I have always loved his cologne. I wonder what brand it is?'

She'd feel the heat of his body, and see the pulse beating wildly at the base of his throat. He would pull away from her, without saying a word, and, not
stopping with his shirt, which would follow his jacket onto the floor, he'd take off the rest of his clothes, with almost frantic haste.

His hazel eyes would look at her thoughtfully, then he'd reach out and slowly unzip her dress, just enough to slide it down her shoulder and free her breasts. His thumb would slowly encircle her nipple, already thrusting forward with a desire she couldn't hide, and then he'd lower his head to take it into his mouth, to tease it with his warm, velvety tongue.

'Oh, my, that feels wonderful.'

His hands would push her dress a little further down her arm, and, finally, with the help of gravity, it would fall with a silken hiss to the floor, leaving
her bare to his eyes.

'I really ought to cut back on those Philly cheesesteaks and step up my running.'

Then his hands would slide down her sides, filling themselves with her hips, caressing her legs. He'd slide one hand along the satiny skin of her leg, to
stroke her between her trembling thighs. He'd find her already wet with desire for him, and his hand would tease deliciously at her, the fingers seeking, finding, stroking, as she writhed under his touch. When those fingers found what they were looking for, she'd have to bite her lip to keep from crying out loud. And as he'd touch her, she'd find herself unable to keep from caressing him in return. Her fingers would move through his hair, enjoying the silky feel of it.

'God, I have always loved touching his hair!'

Her hands would caress the back of his neck and sweep down over his smooth, muscled shoulders, down to his firm buttocks, and she'd dig her nails lightly into the hard flesh of his back, making him groan in anticipation of further delights.

By now, she'd be begging him to take her, to make love to her, and that voice, that wonderful, incredibly sensual voice, would murmur in her ear, "Of course, I will, Ziva." Sometimes just hearing the sound of his voice, especially when he said her name, was enough to make her a little weak in the knees.

He'd sweep her into his arms and walk across the room to lay her gently on the bed. His body would cover hers, their mouths open and their tongues entwined together again. The touch of his body on hers would be explosive. She would be able to feel every nuance: the dark hair on his legs and chest; the beat of his heart against hers; the softness of his skin; the very masculine, personal scent of him; the wiry curls between his legs that pressed against her own; his hardness pressing into her thigh. Together they would explore each other's bodies, caressing, touching each other with tenderness, and anticipating, without haste, the final pleasure to come.

Finally, with a sigh, she'd open her legs to him, murmuring against his mouth, "Oh, Tony! Yes!" And tenderly, slowly, he'd enter her. He'd grasp her hips,
pulling her body even closer to his, thrusting back and forth until she cried out with pleasure from feeling him, warm and hard, within her. He'd move slowly at first, with deep measured strokes, until she'd moan, softly, uncontrollably. Deep within her, she would feel the tenseness mounting until it was almost unbearable. She'd be desperate for release, but he'd withhold it, easing off just a little until the tension receded like a wave from the shore. Then their thrusting would increase in speed, with her knowing that she was going to die from the pleasure he was giving her. Her teeth would sink into his shoulder to muffle her cries as they found release with each other.

"Oh, God... Oh, yes... Tony, I love you!"

'Well...' She shook her head, wondering what deep recesses of her psyche that unexpected sentiment had come from.

Ziva knew she wanted more from Anthony Dinozzo, from any man, than just sex; she wanted to spend the rest of her life with the *right* man. If all she wanted was sex, she could get that any night of the week, from any bar in DC. But, no, she wanted, she *needed* much more than that. And she'd decided that, if she couldn't have everything from a relationship, she'd rather have no relationship at all.

She wondered, now, after all the time they'd known each other, if Tony really knew what it was that *he* wanted from her. Would Anthony Dinozzo be the man who could make the kind of commitment that she needed from the man in her life?

'Does he do this?' she wondered. 'Does he lie in bed at night, and think of me, and do this?' Would they ever share a bed, would she ever get the chance to reaqauint herself with what he tastes like, where he's ticklish, what he likes?

Maybe someday. It was a New Year, after all, and maybe the next time the opportunity presented itself, she wouldn't let it slip through her fingers.

'Oh, well, at least now maybe I'll be able to sleep.'