Chapter 22—

She had not opened her curtains the day before, so the room was still and dark well into the morning. Tony work first (which he would later learn was notably unusual). One tiny crack of light caught peeking through the drapes caught his eye and he yawned. He wished, for once, that the ever-persistent sun would fall below the horizon for just a little while longer, and that night could overpower them so that Ziva could lay in his arms.

He buried his face into his pillow and clenched his fist. His arm was draped lazily across her body and his fingertips brushed against her bare stomach when me moved them. Just the feeling made him smile sleepily, and he became suddenly aware that their legs were still very much entangled.

He pushed himself upright to see it her eyes were open, but she was still sound asleep, so he lay back down again, perfectly content to be wrapped in the sheets that smelled like her. The comforter had shifted and exposed the skin of her naked back to him. For a while, he just stared. He watched that tiny crack of light dance against her, transfixed by the vast expanse of olive skin, perfectly smooth save for dimples down near her hips. And oh, what hips they were, he thought, stifling a chuckle. He thought back to what she had once said, about hips telling a story. A love story, though? He doubted she would have expected that.

He willed himself to memorise every curve and contour of her body, but his mind was screaming out 'touch, touch, touch,' a mantra that would no doubt drive him to insanity if he did not indulge. It was like her body was a priceless artefact and he daren't place his hands on her. But he thought back to the previous night.

Under the sheets, his hands moves up her sides to her waist and rested on her lower ribcage. His thumbs twitched with apprehension, brushing the undersides of her breasts, but only just. His face was hovering over hers, and she lifted her head to kiss him, and whispered against his lips, "You can touch, Tony." She heard a sharp intake of breath, and he felt liberated, allowing his desire for her to take hold. She gasped with pleasure as he complied, her body arching into his, which only encouraged him further. What he would give, he had thought at that moment, to see Ziva David undone before his eyes, over and over again.

"You can touch." Her words from the night before still made his heart race as they echoed in his mind. Cautiously, he reached out and touched her back, and her curls, which were sprawled across the pillows. She shifted in her sleep and he could not resist but to lean forward and place his lips against her, tasting her skin. He trailed up her spine to the nape and side of her neck. Her eyes opened and her lips spread into a wide grin.

"Morning," she mumbled, tilting her head to give him better access. He smiled with his lips still pressed against her.

"Nice of you to join me," he said hotly into her ear. She turned her head and met his lips with her own, shifting again so her body lay on top of his. It was satisfying to lie there still, though, listening to the drumming of his heart and tracing shapes on his skin with her idle fingers.

"Last night was . . ." she said softly, after forever. She did not seem to have the adjective to finish it. She didn't need one, though.

"Yeah," he said, wrapping his arms tighter around her waist. "It really was."

She lifted her head to look him in the eye. "I do love you, Tony DiNozzo," she said, heartfelt all of a sudden. "And I ought to thank you."

"For?"

"For showing me that it is not a fault to love another person."

Tony reached up to cup her cheek. "It's not," he said.

"I know," she said.

There was an abrupt silence, and Ziva let her head tilt forward so their foreheads rested against each other. Tony closed his eyes in ecstasy. He could lay here with her forever. And he wanted to. He did not make one move until Ziva pulled his lips to hers again and they made love under that tiny crack of morning light, and it was perfect. The kind of perfect that exists independently of life around it and of the cold harshness of reality.

...

Eventually, he found the strength to pull away and go take a shower in her tiny bathroom. She lay tangled still in the sheets for a while, staring at the ceiling and listening to the shower run, and occasionally him bursting out into a song that she didn't know. She laughed, and really just wanted to be near him.

She walked out into the kitchen and munched on an apple to silence her growling stomach. Honestly, food was the last thing on her mind. She couldn't stop thinking about the past night. The way he kissed her and touched her and the way he made her want to hold onto him and never let go . . . all of these feelings were foreign and strange, but she welcomed them. In truth, she had never been with somebody by choice before. She had never been with somebody that had not been a customer. She wasn't sure if he actually knew that, and she prayed that if he didn't that he would not mind. She didn't think it mattered, really, though she was certainly not an expert in love.

Love. That word. Oh, and that man. She did love him, and it surprised and terrified her how easy it was to see that. But then she thought of him and how he did everything but scare her and her nerves were settled. It was this new love that would settle in time, she knew, but while it lasted she was glad to make the most of it all she could. It was not easy to come across someone who will love you.

Tony was in there for a while, but when he came out, he was dressed in yesterday's clothes, which were undoubtedly crinkled from spending most of the night abandoned on the floor of her bedroom. She had nothing but a thin robe draped over her and he approached her with a smile, holding her waist from behind. She felt smug, suddenly, and her gaze drifted to the clock on the wall. She froze.

"You have to go," she said, her body tense and stiff.

He frowned. "That's a little harsh." He was kidding, but it flew over her head, really.

"No, no, Tali will be home any minute and – "

Oh. Right. Reality. "Tali trusts me, Ziva."

"I do not want her to know, yet. Not like this. I have to tell her. It's too much of a change for her to just stumble upon."

He nodded understandingly, but was still hesitant to leave. He didn't want to. "Maybe she won't notice."

Ziva turned around and gave him a rather sceptical glare. "Your clothes. My . . . lack of clothes. I never sleep in this late. She knows you were here last night. It's Tali. She is too smart for her own good."

He sighed, and rubbed a hand tiredly across his face. "You're right. Okay, I'll go. I'll call you later, okay?" Despite the pending apparent danger, he couldn't resist leaning in and kissing her lips chastely before dashing out the door. He just managed to pull out onto the road in his Mustang before Tali was dropped off outside the building. Tony let out a breath he had not realised he had been holding in. Tali may be Tali, but she was still a kid. She couldn't understand the things that either of them were feeling – they themselves could not even understand it – but she had to feel okay with it all. Tony suspected she would, as she had asked him before if he had feelings for Ziva, and although her being there meant he had to leave, he was thankful for that kid.