Mellow and hypnotic, the repetitive motion of the boat was proving to be extremely soothing to both body and mind, like swinging inside a hammock on a lazy summer day. A slight tip and roll to the left that caused her to be weightless for a fraction of a second, a gentle slide back down. Tip to the right, weightlessness, gentle slide down.

Early morning breezes were already trickling through the small porthole window of the cabin, sweeping away some of the stifling humidity that had crept in during the night. They reinforced the whole out-of-body experience, carrying with them the clean smell of the sea and of something more unusual-orange jasmine, perhaps, or maybe the dying scent of night-blooming cereus from somebody's inland yard.

Details, none of any great importance. This particular sleeper didn't want to analyze fragrances and their likely sources right now-didn't want to think at all, just to feel for once. And so Temperance Brennan consciously allowed every bone in her body to disappear into the elemental rocking motion that was slowly becoming part and parcel of her being, focusing instead on how soft and moist her skin felt, covered as it was in a salty mist that had slowly settled deep into every pore as she lay in bed.

She fisted her hands into the bedding, the satin sheets entwined around her body snug but not uncomfortable, familiar yet oddly foreign at the same time. A beautiful and oh-so-rare sensation this, feeling so incredibly happy and carefree, and she couldn't help but sigh contentedly, turning her head slightly to smile at the man lying shirtless beside her on that vast ocean of silk.

And in that very first pink light of dawn, she saw him smiling back.

Just a little, barely-awake smile framed by a blanket of fine dark stubble, but it caused erotic pinpricks of anticipation to sashay up and down Brennan's spine. On and on they went until they all finally seemed to converge on the triangular area just above her legs.

She grinned at the man more rapaciously, silently wishing her roommate would get the message already and make some sort of move, but he didn't budge. He kept lying there beside her half-asleep, his bedroom eyes wandering slowly over her satin-covered body.

More stimulation, she decided, was obviously required if she expected to set certain very specific events in motion. So she tugged the sheet off in one fluid motion and she was pleased to see how her companion's breathing immediately quickened, now that the only thing standing between his enthralled eyes and the rest of her was a tiny pair of violet panties and a paper-thin white tank top stretched to the very limits of its existence. She knew that between the stretch and the years of wear she knew it left very little to the imagination, and she was counting on its lack of substance to give her plans a much-needed boost.

Message sent-and apparently, received as well.

Booth's hand finally made its way over, burrowing beneath the frayed top to make itself at home just below Brennan's bellybutton, in that region integrally linked to the same nerve endings as that exquisitely sensitive spot just a few millimeters away. She could barely breathe in anticipation of what she imagined was coming next. A few, slow caresses later his hand slowly migrated south, casually going over her forlorn apex on its way to her inner thighs.

She noticed that his hand was warm as it skimmed over her panties; much warmer it seemed than even her own nearly-burning body. It flamed and scorched as it trekked over both covered and uncovered skin, and the anthropologist trembled under its weight.

Her companion was obviously bent on going at a distinctly leisurely pace-just slow enough to drive the object of his affection to the brink of desperation.

"Booth" she mumbled impatiently, and a finger finally, finally settled on that expectant triangle, bearing down on her, parting her right down the middle and pushing in with a definite sense of purpose, even with the now sodden underwear in the way.

"Off" she continued breathlessly, appalled that she'd apparently been reduced to one-syllable discussions.

It was a miracle she could talk at all, Brennan conceded, her thoughts were in such a state of disarray. She heard the mattress groan softly as her partner's broad form suddenly loomed over her.

For once, and much to her delight, Booth was doing exactly as he was told.

The underwear was diligently removed and thrown somewhere where it might quite possibly never, ever be found in the cramped space, but if Brennan thought she was going to get the goods now, she was cruelly disappointed. Booth's hand returned to its starting position, but instead of sliding back down to where she was already throbbing and ready, it inched it's way upwards to fondle first one breast and then another with calculated precision. The pace was vexing, and the scientist let her head fall back onto the pillow in frustration.

Totally on a whim, and because she had essentially run out of options, she chose to surrender the reins of the whole operation to her partner, acknowledging that he'd won-at least this time. She'd get her happy ending eventually.

"You're so incredible, Bones..." Booth said in a husky tone laced through and through with raw wonder. "How the heck do I manage to fall asleep every night when I'm laying right here, next to you? Sleeping seems like a huge waste of my time."

"Maybe because when you're done with me and I'm done with you, we are both very tired and very, very satisfied," she answered playfully.

"Uh huh, that sounds about right."

Despite Brennan's renewed expectations Booth stubbornly kept at it with the semi-chaste approach. There didn't seem to be much if any progress being made at all and she began to grow truly restless, her partner's mystifying, vexing delay only making her want both him and the indispensable it all the more.

"Booth-kiss me," she pleaded feverishly. A kiss had to get things really moving-when had it not in the past?

He finally put his weight fully on top of her, but not before pushing the tank top up by her armpits so it would be out of the way of his trigger-happy fingers. Fingers which were clearly very much enjoying the utter lack of give of her firm breasts, the hard, puckered surface of her nipples. Booth's mouth came down on hers and Brennan immediately opened herself to him, letting her tongue glide provocatively over his lower lip.

She bit him slightly and heard waves of low, throaty laughter rumbling like distant thunder through his chest.

"Yeah," he growled before his tongue met hers and all conversation pretty much came to an end.

That kiss had definitely turned out to be the sort of catalyst Brennan had been looking for all morning.

Within seconds, Booth was clawing away at his own underwear and positioning himself for their joining. With her hands caressing the well-defined muscles of his back and wide shoulders, shamelessly kneading his taught backside, Brennan marveled once again at the enormous strength of her partner's body, always so carefully kept in check when it came to her. It was an incredible turn-on, everything; all that massive physical power just barely contained and now waiting patiently to invade her, how his skin tasted of salt and sun and smelled vaguely of sweat and sunscreen, the way the waves slapped the hull of the boat one after another in a primitive beat, how the bright morning sunshine made her partner's virile, rough-and-ready features come to life.

But most of all, how much he wanted her-how he couldn't seem to ever get enough of her. She'd never felt so desired and...loved-yes, loved-in her entire life.

And in turn, she'd never wanted-or loved-anyone more.

She arched her back to make room for him, his stilted breath hovering over her forehead like a whisper as he began entering her little by little, still holding something back, holding back in case it proved to be too much. But after the long wait she wanted everything. Undulating to meet him, she finally took him in all the way and his unmistakable moan of overdue relief was lost in hers.

Even in her semi-conscious state, Brennan came to the inescapable conclusion that she'd never experienced lovemaking like this, so grounded, so full of life and meaning. A part of her mind finally understood that Booth was offering every piece of himself as he made love to her, his soul included, and, giving in to impulse, she went with what felt right as opposed to what she thought was right and did exactly the same. The difference it made in how the act was experienced was shocking; she wanted him, all of him, in every way, in a crazy, irrational way, and she decided on the spot that there was no longer any need to maintain any kind of emotional guard against the man she was having sex with.

It was Booth, and that was enough.

She trusted him with both her body and her heart, and that trust finally carried her on its wings to a wonderful place, where fireworks began exploding around her as his skin burned into hers.

It's Booth, she thought with a wild surge of happiness. It's Booth, and I...

Somewhere out there, just beyond the edge of consciousness, a masculine voice was calling to her; a voice she recognized instantly but wasn't even remotely expecting to hear, and she lifted her head from the pillow with a start.

"Hey Tempe," the man said by way of apology. "Sorry to make you get up this early, but unless you want to be one of my deckhands today, you better get on land soon. Remember, I have that corporate charter group coming at 10. You're welcome to stay and play hostess and pass out beers and sandwiches or bait the hooks though," Sully said with a grin. "Prettiest first mate a captain could ever wish for. Who knows; it might even nab me a better tip at the end of the day, fish or no fish."