A/N: Here's some Tiva fluff for the end of the month. It's been a while since I updated so I thought I'd put this up. Enjoy!


"Dance with me." His voice was low and rough in her ear.

Shivers danced up her spine, and she nodded. A slow waltz began, and he carefully settled his arm around her waist, offering up his other hand for her to take. She tentatively placed one hand in his, and raised her other to rest on his shoulder. She caught her breath at her close proximity to his handsome, smiling countenance.

He leaned almost imperceptibly closer, straining for another whiff of her exquisite fragrance. It was unlike anything he had smelled before, and it deserved more consideration. He pulled her body flush with his as the music grew louder.

When they started to dance, no one could believe they had never practiced. They were perfectly matched, sweeping and swirling around the ballroom floor with deceptive ease.

She sighed, and slid her hand to the nape of his neck, fingering the sensitive flesh and short, soft hairs. Now it was his turn to shiver.

He stared down into her clear, bright-eyed gaze, and found himself falling. The warm brown encompassed him, and he was at peace, possibly for the first time in years. It was wonderful.

Staring up into his beautiful hazel eyes, she could not help the sense of utter contentment that fell over her. Having his arms wrapped around her, holding her close to his warmth, felt like the most natural thing in the world.

His hand tightened on her waist and he almost missed a step as he looked down at her tempting, full lips. How far could he go to sell this cover? Could he kiss her? At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to feel that soft, red mouth yield beneath his. He could only hope she felt the same.

She wanted him to kiss her. She could feel that tension in his body that meant he was resisting, and hoped he overcame his new urge to be a gentleman. She wanted to feel his lips on her, hard, commanding hers to open for him. She wanted to feel his tongue slip into her mouth, moist and exciting, compelling her to give even more. She wanted his kiss so badly she could hardly breathe.

He hesitated, but couldn't defeat the growing impulse to kiss her. Giving in with a groan, he lowered his head until their lips almost touched. Here he waited, giving her a chance to back out.

Instead, she rose up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to his with a almost inaudible moan.

He reacted instantly, surging forward and gripping her tightly to keep her steady. All memories of the dance were now forgotten, and all thoughts turned inwards.

His kiss was just as she had imagined it to be; hot, wanton, exhilarating. He was kissing her with almost bruising force, so great was his passion, but she wasn't complaining. She loved the feel of his mouth on hers, his tongue sensuously exploring her mouth. It was even better than she had imagined.

He couldn't get enough of her. Her soft lips, her delectable taste, the soft, breathy noises she made. He angled his head, deepening the kiss, and nearly moaned. She was incredible, a miracle, and for the moment, she was all his. That was what really gave him joy.

She was his. It could be no other way. He had practically demanded it of her with his kiss, and she was all too happy to acquiesce. She was his now, irrevocably. In just one moment, she looked far into their future. She saw them married, all his family there and her in a big white dress, looking ecstatically happy. She saw them move into a new house, pausing with every load brought in to share a kiss. She saw them with children, reading bedtime stories and making lunches, helping with homework and cheering at soccer matches. She saw all this, and she couldn't help but want it all to come true. At that one moment, that was all she wanted.

All he wanted was for time to stop. He wanted to keep this woman forever; he wanted her right where she was now for all time, melting under his kiss. Pressed so tightly against his body that he could feel every delightful curve and contour under that exquisite dress of hers. He wanted to know, to be sure she would never leave him.

She pulled away, starved for air, sucking a deep breath into her lungs. She felt dazed, looking up at his face, as if she had suddenly woken from a dream. She tentatively touched her fingers to her lips.

He felt as if she had just dumped a bucket of cold water on him, brutally waking him from the best dream he had ever had. Staring down into her bemused face, he recalled their purpose in being there. He checked the room for suspicious glances, making sure no one had noticed the kiss. Around them, the waltz continued uninterrupted; only seconds had passed. He gathered her back into his arms and began to dance again.

Once more whirling through the room, safe in his arms, she took a moment to figure out what had just happened. He had kissed her, but had he kissed her or her cover? Did it mean as much as she longed for it to mean?

A deep warmth spread through his body, originating from all the points they contacted. It could not feel more right, her in his arms. She was meant to be there, and he had made sure she knew it. Perhaps they could work forward from there.

She looked into his eyes, searching for some indication of who he thought he had been kissing. He met her gaze with a look so filled with confidence and joy that she knew.

It was her.

It had always been her.