"Come here." Booth smiles.
Brennan puts her glass in the sink and strolls over. "What?"
"Sit down." He pats the table in front of him.
She smiles and sits, facing him.
He picks up her palm and presses it to his face, kissing it gently.
"I love you." He confesses.
She smiles broader. "I know. You told me."
"I feel like I should say it all the time."
"I don't mind hearing it." She winks.
He chuckles, and kisses her palm again, lingeringly.
Her breath catches in her throat.
She's on fire.
He's barely touched her, and she's burning for him.
"Will it always be like this?" She whispers, her head tilting back with pleasure.
He begins kissing her wrist, her forearm. "I don't know. I think so. I can't imagine ever not wanting you more than a drowning man wishes for air."
She laughs. "Very poetic Booth."
He grins against her skin. "I pay attention."
"And that's why I love you." She chuckles, pulling him up until he is standing between her legs.
Their lips meet, and her hands wind around his neck and up into his hair, pulling him closer, her mouth opening and letting him in, their tongues sliding against each other, tasting.
His hands undo the buttons on her shirt, and he slowly pushes it over her shoulders and down her arms, his hands sliding against her skin so gently it feels as if they are feathers.
She reluctantly let's go of him long enough to shrug the shirt off, and then her fingers are back in his hair, caressing his neck, holding his jaw.
No matter how hard they try, they can never get close enough.
His hands slide up her back, stopping to undo the clasp of her bra.
It slides down and he slides his hands to replace it, cupping and holding her breasts firmly, running his thumbs over her nipples teasingly.
Her breath shudders through him, and her legs wrap around his hips, drawing him nearer, and her hands move to his abdomen, raising his shirt slowly, exposing him an inch at a time, abdominals, pectorals.. He pulls his shirt up over his shoulders and off, and she touches him and the muscles flex beneath her hands as he moves.
The shirt falls to the floor and his hands return to her body, sliding her skirt slowly up the legs that have driven him wild for years.
Her hands move to his pants, pulling the open, pushing them down his hips.
Their movements are sure, and even though they move slowly, the tension between them tightens like a violin string, their breathing quickens, and their hearts begin to pound.
As he enters her, pushing slowly into her depths, their eyes meet, and hold.
This is as pure as it gets.
Their souls are laid bare in one another's gaze, they know the truth of one another, and in one another, the truth of themselves.
This is where they belong.
In one another's arms.
The end. I've kinda lost focus on this one, I'm going to start a new one, back at the beginning. First times are so fun to write. ;)
Thanks so much for reading, and commenting!