It was the cat's fault, she decided. All of it. If Fraidy hadn't knocked over every object that wasn't tied down in that old house, they would have just continued on in that creepy mansion until Booth couldn't take it (which surely would have been minutes after his battery died) and she won the damn bet and could move on with her life. And if the damn cat didn't decide that she should be his new snuggle buddy-slash-scratching post, she certainly wouldn't be in this particular compromising position. Her body was warming from her struggles with the cat and her proximity to her partner. And she was fighting, although she wasn't exactly sure anymore what she was fighting against. All she knew was that she couldn't possibly turn her thoughts exclusively to Booth and his strong arms and his perfectly warming chest or else bad things would happen. Bad, bad things...
And it was only because she worked so hard to prevent that, that she was surprised by his lips being the thing that arrested the insults flowing from hers. Suddenly, all those bad things felt just far too good. The weight of his upper body on hers...the scratch of stubble from his jaw on her face...the taste of his mouth, like rainwater and something deeper and hotter and more masculine, making her hungry. Her tongue darted out by instinct, touching his, and she gasped at the sensation of electricity that shot through her at the contact. He was still pulling the now-forgotten cat from her, and when it finally released its claws from her robe with a yowl, he brought her back down to the pillows, their mouths separating.
Her heart was pounding, much like it had been earlier in the night when she feared for the safety of her partner. But now was right here. And he had kissed her.
"You kissed me," she said weakly. She wasn't sure if it were an accusation, or a question, or a mere acknowledgement.
His tempting, swollen lips (the lips that had just been on hers) hovered there, inches from hers. His wide, darkened eyes held embarrassment, and something else... "Yeah," he replied slowly. "I...wanted you to stop yelling at me...and my hands were busy with the cat...so..." He ended there. As if that explained everything.
"Oh," she whispered.
They stayed still, eyes locked for a long moment, both afraid to move.
"Booth," she finally said softly.
"I'm having...that feeling again."
"My muscles feel tense. My breathing has become more rapid...my heart rate has increased...my skin is tingling..."
"You seem to be a little flushed," he murmured, two fingers brushing over her cheek. "And your pupils are enlarged..."
She shook a little at his touch. "Booth...why have I been so afraid tonight?" She was looking at him desperately, his kiss seeming to have pulled honesty from her lips.
The heat in his eyes was melting her, little by little. "I don't know," he whispered back. "But I feel it too..."
At his admission, she suddenly felt a surge of an emotion that seemed suspiciously like...courage. She could deal with this. She could be strong in the face of everything that was here in this room between them. She was Temperance Brennan. And he was her partner. Before her boldness could dissipate, she squirmed one hand out from under the covers, moved it to the back of his head, and tugged his lips back where they belonged.
She felt his immediate response to her, both the hard and the soft of him, and heard the strangled moan that vibrated in his throat and into her mouth. Suddenly, there was nothing on her that was cold. Shifting her body so that it was flush against his, she felt all of him for the first time, thigh-to-thigh, chest-to-chest, the tight, hard length of him pressing at the crux of her...and it felt so damned good.
And then he sprung away.
"Bones," he gasped, pulling at the robe that was threatening to become too small to contain him. "We've been through an...ordeal...tonight and I don't think we're thinking quite straight..."
Even though she was only a few minutes past making excuses herself, she was tired of them. "Booth. Don't," she whispered, in a voice that would have been reasonable if she wasn't so fucking turned on right now.
He looked at her as if desperate for her understand. "You terrify me," he said, softly, reverently.
She blinked at his admission, and he dropped back onto his back on the mattress, covering his eyes with his hands. There was just no delicate way out of THIS, now, was there?
They should have stayed in that damn house with all its creepy, creaky floorboards and spiders and rats. It would have been safer. He could feel the warmth now radiating off of her, could pick up her natural, alluring scent as she shifted amongst the sheets.
She scooted closer, he could feel the bed shift, and when he peeked at her through the slits between his fingers, she had propped herself up on her elbow, watching him. "I do?"
Nothing was ever easy with this woman, and he had a feeling this would be no exception. Sighing, he kept his eyes firmly on the ceiling, and the cat was suddenly up next to him again -- it stepped gingerly onto his chest, unsure whether it would again be tossed to the floor.
He rested his hand on the cat gently, stroking its fur lightly. "Yes, you do."
Sometimes she reminded him of his son when she pushed like this -- she either ignored his body language entirely, or she didn't notice. It was hard to tell.
"Because... you're... my partner. And we work together. And partners should have... boundaries. There's a line, remember? A line. And kissing, well... that crosses it."
"You kissed me first," she pointed out bluntly.
"I was trying to --"
"Silence me, I remember," she said slowly. "Do you kiss everyone you want to stop talking?"
She had a point. As always. Sighing, he set the cat gently near the foot of the bed and sat up, looking at her. "No, no I don't."
"Did you want to kiss me or not?" she asked, her brow furrowing. "You aren't being clear or at all rational, Booth."
"People aren't always rational," he muttered. "And yeah, maybe I wanted to kiss you a little. And shut you up. But the point is, I shouldn't have done it. It crossed the line."
"You seem very concerned with this 'line'," she murmured. "You mention it quite often."
"Because it's important," he insisted, raking his hand through his still-damp hair. "It sets boundaries, it keeps things from getting out of hand, from emotions getting too tangled up and messy --"
She frowned again. "So... by not kissing me, emotions don't get messy? Kissing me makes you feel differently? I'm not sure I follow."
God, she was frustrating. "Listen, Bones," he muttered, shifting to face her. "I'm just saying that we're crossing --"
"A line. Yes, I know," she finished for him. "So you've said."
For some reason, the casual tone in her voice irked him, and he suddenly wanted her to understand the gravity of what he was talking about, to make her realize that what would happen between them wouldn't just be casual fun and games. That it would have weight, consequence. Moving towards her, he pushed her shoulder gently to roll her onto her back, and her eyes widened as she dropped back down to the mattress. He braced himself above her, his hands next to either side of her head, and he could see the pulse already fluttering at her throat as he leaned in, stopping about an inch or so above her.
"Yes, a line," he said, his voice low. "A major line, one that doesn't get crossed back over, you understand? Partners don't kiss, or touch one another while wearing little white robes. Or sleep in the same bed. Or... make love," he said quietly. "Because when they do that, they're no longer just partners."
"Oh..." she exhaled on a breath, her eyes locked with his. "Booth..?"
He sucked in a breath. "What?"
"What if I...what if I think about those things -- is that the same? Is that crossing the line?"
He groaned, heat moving swiftly through his body from head to toe at her words. "Bones, don't say that."
She frowned, puzzled by his response, and if he weren't feeling ready to pass out or possibly explode, he probably would have laughed at her confusion. "Why not?"she finally said slowly. "It's the truth."
He looked down into her face, her eyes wide and bright, her cheeks flushed pink in the lamplight, the white terry cloth robe revealing the tops of her breasts, and he knew he was a goner. What kind of man could be expected to walk away from a woman they so desperately wanted, who was lying beneath him, asking why not?
Please let her be the one to decide. Please let her turn away, to pull up the covers and go to sleep.
He took in a shuddering breath, about to push up and off of her, to ensure that they didn't have any more body contact than they already did, when she suddenly spoke.
"I've thought about your line," she said quietly, her eyes dropping from his. "And I think I see what you're saying."
"So you understand?" he said in relief. "You understand why it's a bad idea?"
And then her eyes were back on his, blazing. And she grabbed the front of his robe in her small fist, tugging him down. "Kiss me again."
She wasn't going to let him get away with this. Especially not after he had challenged her. Temperance Brennan didn't back away from a challenge. And Seeley Booth...well...she knew he was brave. That had already been established. Surely he could overcome an invisible line of his own construction.
He could also kiss. Very, very well. And he was very bravely exploring her mouth right now with his tongue. There we go, Booth. Isn't this better than talking this to death? As if answering her unspoken question, he cupped her head, letting the entirety of his weight press her into the mattress while he tilted her face to have better access. Oh my. Who knew that a man could do that with his tongue? She was learning all sorts of new things tonight.
His new enthusiasm was breathtaking. Her hand, which had been trapped between their bodies, found the spot at his chest where his robe gapped, and slipped into it. She touched smooth skin and hard muscle. He hissed at the first true touch of her hand on his body, and she felt a surge of dampness from between her thighs. From touching his fucking shoulder.
"Is this one of those things that partners don't do?" she asked him on a gasp as their lips separated.
"Yes," he swore, lowering his head and pressing his lips to her jaw, sucking at the skin there.
She used the little mobility she had to push the soft white cotton down over his shoulder and trace her fingertips down over his bare back. The muscles there twitched. She sighed appreciatively.
"How about this?" she whispered.
"Yes." He was laying delicate kisses around the hollow of her throat, the top of her chest. Pushing the sleeve of her robe down too, he nipped at her shoulder.
She fought to get her arms underneath them, to wrap them around his waist like she did when she was cold and shivering in the lobby. Only in the lobby, she hadn't put her hands directly on his ass. Or thrust her hips into his so that she could test the way he fit against her. "Jesus," she heard him murmur against her shoulder.
"Yes," he choked out, "All of it." He was rocking gently against her, and it was making her insane with desire. "But it feels so goddamn good..."
Agreed. His newly intrepid hands were parting her robe inch by inch, and he was getting dangerously close to her aching breasts. Her head fell back against the pillows and she moaned her relief at finally having him where she wanted him. Then...
"Dammit. Okay. That's enough."
He rolled off of her, and she nearly cried at the loss. He was leaving her hanging again because he was too afraid to go through with this...
Then she saw the true culprit for the interruption. He scooped Fraidy up off the bed, where he had been dumped off Booth's back. "You've gotta go, little guy," he said, clearly frustrated, and he stalked away towards the door and the small hallway that separated this bedroom from the living area. His robe, hanging from his body in several places, was barely covering him, and she appreciated the view for a second while he tossed the intrusive feline into the hall. "Okay," he said, brushing his hands off and beginning to turn back to her. "Now maybe we can..."
They were the last words that he could say before her lips connected with his and she sent him reeling back into the hall with the force of her kiss.
"I'm not waiting for you anymore," she murmured.
He dumped the cat from his hands and its feet hit the floor with a soft thud. "Okay," he muttered, turning back towards the bed, about to explain that maybe now they could be alone, when his body was suddenly sailing through the door as well, his partner's palms against his chest, her mouth pressed hotly to his. Surprised, he stumbled, and she whispered against his lips that she didn't really plan on waiting for him.
Which may have been the hottest thing anyone had said to him -- ever. She couldn't even wait for him to come back to bed??
She turned as she shoved him, and his back connected with the wall of the short hallway, the fixture on the ceiling swaying slightly with the impact. And then she was kissing him again, and her hands slipped to the front of his robe and yanked the belt until the knot gave way and he was left only in a pair of boxers, the robe hanging loosely from his shoulders.
"Bones --" he gasped, trying to catch his breath. "I --"
Her mouth covered his again, her tongue thrusting past his teeth to tangle with his own, and he finally recovered enough to respond. Tilting his head, he kissed her deeply, the taste of her on his tongue, the silkiness of her mouth intoxicating him. He reached down inside the robe and cupped her ass, feeling the lace panties she wore, and he lifted her up against him. She took it one step further, jumping up, her legs scissoring around his hips as he pushed off the wall and pressed her into it on the opposite side of the hall. He kept one arm firmly around her waist, and he pressed his palm of the other flat against the wall by her head, his mouth opening against the skin of her throat.
She was moaning, her hips tilting up to his, and he pressed back into her, nipping on her earlobe before whispering huskily, "Didn't want to wait, huh?"
"No!" she gasped as his breath touched her ear, and she shuddered. "Oh, god..."
He lifted her higher against the wall until her breasts were in front of him, and he reached out, slowly circling the tip of one with his tongue. She trembled beneath him, and he barely heard her pleas, his own head a fog of desire. He teased her for several moments before he finally tugged her nipple into his mouth. Her response was instantaneous and incredibly sexy -- one of her hands flew into his hair, the other dug into his shoulder, the nails biting his skin. The tip of her breast was pebble-hard, and he rolled his tongue over it several times before suckling deeply, and her hips bucked against him. Pulling back, he took a deep breath. If he didn't get a handle on himself, this would be over before it really even began -- he was that hot for her already.
She was flushed and panting in his arms, her ankles crossed tightly behind his back, her chest heaving beautifully, the rose flush just visible in the tips of her breasts in the hall light. He cupped the back of her head in his palm, capturing her lips again with his own, and she moaned into his mouth, pressing the length of herself against him, her breasts pillowing against his bare chest. God, could she kiss. She tasted like the rain that still battered the windows, fresh and clean, and everywhere he kissed her, he could feel her pulse beneath her skin. She was breathtakingly, shockingly alive in his arms.
He finally ripped his mouth from hers, gasping for air. "How far do you want to go with this?" he rasped, his head spinning as he waited for her answer.
But she didn't speak -- she simply grabbed his hair in her fist and yanked his mouth back to hers, and he spun off the wall, her body still clutched to his. Bursting past the door, he turned and kicked it shut, heading swiftly towards the bed, and when he reached it he tossed her amongst the sheets, following her body down.
"How far do you want to go with this?"
Now why would he ask a woman that when she was obviously lost, nearly incoherent in her own desire? It was an important question. She knew, indisputably, that she wanted to go as far as the bed, as far as the parts of his body that she had yet to explore...those were the things she knew for sure. But in order to quiet the first words that threatened to escape from her..."As far as we can...the whole way..." she had to lock her lips onto his again, make sure she was too breathless to say the words.
He carried her effortlessly back to the bed, kicked the door shut behind them, and dropped her into the safe haven of the bed. Her robe had been stretched to the limit during his attentions in the hall, and now his trembling hands worked to untie it, to see her unadorned and bare. She was surprised by a rush of shyness when the robe finally parted and she had wriggled out of it...she was never shy about her body, about sex, but this...he looked at her like no man had ever looked at her, intently, awe-struck, like she was the fucking air that he needed to breathe. Gooseflesh broke out over her whole body, one one of his fingers trailing down between her breasts and onto her stomach exacerbating the condition.
"I don't want you to be cold," he said, in a voice deepened in arousal. Arousal because of her. "Ever."
"Then warm me up," she begged, not even knowing entirely what she was asking for. But when he laid down and pulled her on top of him, her stiffened nipples pressing firmly into his bare chest while he wrapped his open robe around her and cocooned them together, she knew she had gotten exactly what she needed. As she kissed him again, desperately, she was struck by overwhelming need to show him just how good it could feel to face down one's fears.
"I knew you'd feel good underneath me," she said softly, undulating gently against the evidence of his arousal.
He uttered something that might have been a curse at her movements. "You've really thought about..."
"You haven't?" Raising up just a little, she began to suck gently down his throat. The rain hadn't washed away the musky scent of him, that she always wondered about the taste of...
"I tried not to." She delighted in his gasp as her teeth delicately scraped the skin of his chest, then her lips soothed the sting away.
"Me too. It didn't work," she told him, voice muffled against him, tracing the lower part of his pectoral muscles with her tongue. God, he was a sexy man...
"Tell me about it." He was squirming now while her hands grasped his hips, lips becoming familiar with each divot in his stomach. "Bones...what are you doing..."
"Going as far as I want to go..." She was hypnotized by the taste of him, the feel of him. Her fingers hooked in the band of his boxers and tugged lightly, exposing the trail of downy hair that disappeared into the one last place she had yet to discover. She licked at it.
Suddenly, she felt herself being pulled by her shoulders, lifted away from where she wanted to be...she gave a little cry of frustration and surprise as she found herself flipped again onto her back.
"I have places I want to go too," he told her, huskily, the fingers of one large hand cupping her breast, squeezing lightly at her nipple while the other ran down her body, stroking with a butterfly touch over her sex and down to her inner thighs. "And I don't want things to end before I get there..."
She gave an involuntary whimper as an electric sensation followed every place his hands went. "God, Seeley..."
"So fucking sexy," he swore before kissing her again, passionately, and she wasn't sure if he meant her body, her cursing, or the sound of his name leaving her lips. And it didn't matter, because now his hand was in her panties, fingers brushing against and delving into her slickness, and she had never been so turned on by a touch in her life. He swallowed the moan that left her when one finger sunk deep inside of her, his thumb brushing her clit.
"Holy..." Her hips rose off the bed, trying desperately to get him in deeper, get more of his touch, but he stroked her slowly, soothingly. He was warming her from the inside out, making her feel incredible, making her feel like she was going to fall... His finger flicked against her clit again. Her eyes rolled back in her head.
"Booth...want you..." she whined.
"Bones," he said, in a strangled voice. "Are you..."
"Safe? Yes. You?"
"Yes. Thank God."
She might have laughed if she wasn't so close to orgasming against his fingertips. "Please..." She wasn't one to beg, but many exceptions to the rules were being made on this night, and practically unconsciously, her hands were plucking at his boxers, trying to get them out of the way.
"Okay, okay," he breathed, helping her with his underwear, trying to pull off her own without having to take his fingers off of her. He sat between her legs, looking amazing, looking so ready for her that she could barely believe he had waited this long. "Come here, Temperance."
She struggled to sit, reached for him, readied herself to climb onto his waiting lap...then hesitated. "Booth..."
"It's okay. I'm afraid too," he admitted sofly, reaching out, cupping her cheeks. When his thumb brushed her lower lip, she trembled, and she could see his struggle and still, he was thinking of her. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to."
Meeting his eyes, falling into them, she felt strong again. She straddled him with knees to either side of his hips, wrapped her arms around his strong shoulders. Yes. He was safe. He was her shelter. Burying her face in his neck, she lowered herself onto him slowly. His hands were on her hips, gripping at them convulsively as she sheathed him, his breath joining hers in a pant. Joined completely, she adjusted herself, wrapping her legs around his back, pressing her chest against his, feeling him filling her more fully than anyone ever had before.
"Let me see you," he pleaded.
She had to force herself to raise her head, to meet his eyes. In them, she faced her fears.
She struggled to meet his eyes, hesitating, and when she said his name, he new she was finally realizing what it was they were really doing.
He cupped her face in his hands, gazing deeply into her eyes. "I'm afraid too," he promised. He stroked her lower lip gently with his thumb, trying to quell the response in his body if she wanted to stop. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to."
She paused for a moment, and then he saw a shift in her, saw the color of her eyes brighten and gleam, and she was moving towards him, climbing into his lap, wrapping her arms around him. His hands fell to her hips, and as she lowered herself onto him, he sucked in a deep breath, clutching her tightly.
And at that moment, he trusted everything, his fear floated away. They had been building towards this since the day they'd met, and her head fell to his neck, her breath warm and sweet against his throat. He slipped his hand up to stroke her hair, wanting to see her eyes, his whole body reacting to being inside of hers, his heart quickening.
"Let me see you," he begged. His voice was breathless, wanting.
Again she hesitated, but she slowly lifted her chin, and in the low light of the room, her eyes shimmered, locking with his. And she moved, slowly, lifting her hips, enclosing him within her, and he slid his hand to the back of her head, tugging her down to kiss her deeply. Her skin was flushed and damp, a sheen of sweat making her slightly slick beneath his fingers, the chill from earlier all but gone. She was so beautiful, this was beautiful, everything he'd ever imagined it to be. Because the truth was, what he'd told her in that diner that night -- he hadn't known what he'd promised her, not to this extent. What he'd had was faith, faith that if two people found one another and came together this was what it could be like. And now he understood, now he knew.
This was what making love meant. As their lips broke apart, he could see her own realization; could see it in the slight widening in her eyes, in the way her lips parted. He gasped as she rose up again, lifting, and he followed, their rhythm increasing along with their accelerating heartbeats, and he clung to her, his hands everywhere, tangling into her hair and sliding down her back again to her hips.
"Seeley," she panted, and his name, his first name on her lips nearly brought him to the edge alone. Their lips met and parted, breaths exchanging, and he moaned low in his throat, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist, the other tipping back her head so that he could press open-mouthed kisses against the damp skin of her throat
Her fingers tightened in his hair, her hips rolling more quickly, and she gasped suddenly, her knees pressing into his sides. "Oh, god, I'm going to --"
"Yes," he rasped. "Come with me, Temperance -- please... come with me..."
Her hips undulated again, clenching him tight, and she moaned, her head falling back. But he wanted to see her, wanted to see her eyes as she came, and so he cupped her face in his hands, pulling her towards him. "Look at me!" he begged again.
Her eyes met his, and everything felt hot and tight and ready to explode as he saw himself reflected in the deep blue pools, and that's where he dove as his body tipped over into hers, drowning in her, making them one.
She made to open her eyes, but at the first slit of them, slammed them back shut. It was hard to believe that it was meterologically possible...a morning so bright after a night so stormy. But the sunlight was undeniable...seemingly mocking them. See? it said to her. There's nothing scary around here. Nothing at all...
Stretching sinuously, she was reminded by the pleasurable, warm, heaviness in her lower limbs of the activities that culminated their adventure last night. Her hands felt blindly for the person who had been the benefactor of all those good feelings. Her fingers fell on his smooth, soft...fur?
Squinting into the morning light, she saw the outline of the creature napping on her (equally snoozing) partner's chest. "You little brat," she said softly, sleepily.
The cat turned its head and yawned, stretching a paw out to her reaching hand. He must have scooted back into the bedroom during their brief interlude in the hallway last night. Thankfully, Fraidy had enough sense to leave the two be after having been so unceremoniously tossed at his last interruption.
Her eyes having adjusted, she glanced up at Booth's face. He was snoring softly, the edges of his mouth turned up slightly as if he were having a good dream. He was dead to the world. Knowing that he wasn't cognizant of her actions at the moment, she reached again, slowly stroking the cat's silky fur. Its eyes closed in pleasure, and a low purr emanated from its throat. She smiled slightly. "You wanna come here?" she whispered, wiggling her fingers temptingly. Fraidy eyed her and reached with a paw again, but refused to leave the warmth of Booth's chest.
"Ah, I don't blame you," she sighed. She gave him a soft rub at the base of his tail. "You like Booth, don't you? You like your Daddy." Embarrassed at her own anthropomorphizing, she looked up at her partner again to be sure of his continued slumber. Scratching the cat under his chin, she forced it to meet her eyes. "Just don't you forget, Buster," she said softly, seriously. "He's mine."
The cat's yellow gaze promised nothing.
"You really shouldn't taunt animals, Bones," a sleepy, raspy voice warned. "It won't get you anywhere."
She rolled her eyes and fell to her back again, embarrassed but not entirely surprised at being caught. "I wasn't taunting. I was just...warning."
Her eyes flicked to the side to see his amused, handsome face.
"You love the cat," he goaded.
"I do not."
"You so do. You want to take it home with us and be its Mommy."
"I so don't."
He was grinning. "It really does take after your side, Bones. All feisty and stubborn and...rawr..."
"Get that fleabag off of you, Booth." Reaching under the covers, she grabbed a handful of his thigh and pinched, creating a chain effect where he jumped and the cat jumped down with an annoyed chirp.
"Hey," he laughed. "Now look what you did..." She squeezed his leg again, this time a little higher up, and more gently. "Well...that might get you somewhere." Flipping his body over sideways, he trapped her in his arms, giving her a deep and thorough good-morning kiss which she smiled straight through.
How easy this felt. How natural...
Raising up off of her and onto his elbow, he studied her intently. "So. We crossed the line."
"Yes," she nodded, a bit confused by his obviousness.
"Do you suppose that makes us brave? Or stupid?" One of his thumbs reached over to trace her lower lip. She darted out her tongue to touch it, and he gave her a warning look.
"I'm not stupid. I scored well into the 99th percentile on the Weschler Intelligence Scale." She saw his mouth beginning to open in protest, and she stopped him. "I'm just kidding. We're brave."
"How do you figure?" he challenged.
"Because we feared something...and we did it anyway. That was your definition of courage, correct?"
He sighed. "You got me there, I suppose."
She nodded seriously, glad that she remembered. And that he agreed. "Although, maybe that makes us stupid, as well."
He gave her a questioning look.
"Because why would we be afraid of something so..." she trailed off.
"So orgasmic?" he said, with a wide grin. She laughed. "Hey Bones," he said, suddenly ducking underneath the covers. She felt his early-morning whiskers tickle her stomach. "I'm feeling a little...ahem...brave again."
She giggled wildly. "Booth," she gasped, twisting. "That tickles. Stop. Stop stop stop..." She was startled out of her squirming for a second. "Hey Booth..."
"Yeah," he said, muffled under the covers and against the tender skin of her belly.
"Did you get up and open the window last night?"
"You crazy?" he asked, climbing out from under the blankets and settling his naked, warm body on top of hers. "It was raining like crazy. We would have gotten even more soaked and freezing."
"Then why are the curtains blowing?" she insisted. He un-buried his face from her throat and looked up. The drapes were billowing in the generous breeze.
"You must have gotten up and opened it."
"Well maybe it was the cat, then." He returned to nibbling at her neck. "Mmm...tastes good."
"Booth...ah...it woud be physiologically impossi...yes, there...impossible for a cat to..." She couldn't finish because his lips were on hers, and suddenly she couldn't give two shits about the window. She explored his mouth langorously, relishing in just...being able to.
A bell rang from somewhere outside the room. "Whassat?" her partner said against her mouth.
"What time was breakfast supposed to be again?
"9:30, I think." Unfortunately, she couldn't think very well with him rubbing his thigh between her legs like that.
"I'm thinking that's the dinner bell," she said with a gasp as he licked at her earlobe.
"Who needs food?"
"I'm thinking we're going to need a lot of fuel today," she said, logically, trying to get her brain cells functioning again.
"Hmm. Valid." With one last lingering kiss on her lips, he rolled aside and out of the bed. She watched his backside intently as he moved to close the window. "Do you suppose our clothes are dry yet?"
"I sort of hope not," she said with a grin.
This time, when he stood to sign the credit slip, her arms were around his waist for a different reason. He scrawled his signature across the piece of paper and looked up at the manager, offering him a wide grin.
"Did you have a pleasant night, sir?" the owner asked, a slight smile on his lips.
Booth glanced at Bones, his eyes gleaming. "Yes we did. Very pleasant."
The man filed the slip, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Wonderful. We do hope you'll come again."
"You may want to have someone look at the latch on the window," his partner mentioned, brushing her hair off her forehead. "It seems to have blown open during the night, although I'm not quite sure how. The latch looked sturdy enough."
The owner paused, and Seeley caught his slight hesitation, but the man quickly covered it up with a smile. "Yes, of course. Thank you for mentioning it."
"Are you worried about intruders?" he asked politely. "I could take a look --"
Bones squeezed his hand at his suggestion, and he suddenly remembered the cat. In the car. Most likely scratching up the upholstery.
"Intruders? Oh, no," the man said quickly. "No one bothers all the way out here. It was most likely just Earl."
Bones raised an eyebrow, and they locked eyes for a moment. "Earl?" she asked cautiously.
"Old owner of the place," the man said calmly, turning around to file their slip.
"Oh, he still lives here?" Booth managed, choking on the idea of someone in their room.
"So to speak," the man replied nonchalantly, turning around to give them a smile. "He died about twenty years back, but he visits once in a while. He's harmless though, so don't you worry none."
Seeley whipped his head around to look at his partner, and her eyes were bulging. Coughing, she glanced up at the man behind the desk. "Ghosts are a physical improbability."
"You did say your window was open, did you not?"
The both glanced at one another, nodding.
"Well, the latch and bolt is on the inside. No intruder could do that."
There was a long pause, and Booth felt his gut roll, and a slight shiver went down his spine. And suddenly Bones had his hand in hers, and she tugged him towards the door. "Right, well then. We're very important people who work for the FBI. And we have a pressing case that we have to get back to, so we'll be going back to D.C. now. Thanks again!"
He allowed her to tug him towards the door, but turned at the last moment, about to wave apologetically to the owner and blinked. The room was empty.
"Bones," he whispered, and she paused, her hand on the door.
"Uh... where did he go?"
She frowned, her eyes moving across the room, and she stood still, her face holding the same expression she made whenever she was examining evidence and trying to come to a conclusion. And then she raised her eyes to his, her voice firm.
"Get me the hell out of here. Right this second."
A/N: Yay! This completes the first story from 5 Steamboats Shipping Co. Whatcha think? You think it's worth it for us to focus our energies on something a little more elaborate? Would that make you happies? We are interested in making you happies:)
Thanks so much for reading!
Jamie & Mia