Away Isn't Far Enough

14. More Than Spring Rolls

Booth pulled out the food containers out of the plastic bag. He had no clue how they managed to eat all of it every time. He loved having leftovers. But with her? There was never anything left. He took a couple a chopsticks and started emptying noodles into two plates.

"Why do we bother using plates?" she said. "We end up fighting over the containers anyway..."

He laughed and looked up.

Brennan leaned over the table. His breath instantly got shallow. She was giving him a pretty darn great view of her breasts right there.

"Hey! I want more of that," she whined.

He scratched his head. Me too...

"Uhm... yeah. Here." He handed her the box. "I'm starting with the spring rolls before you eat them all," he said, trying to forget the perfectness of her white, soft looking skin. He didn't want to look. Well, he tried not to. But her blouse was almost half open. Should he tell her?

"What?" she asked. She had noticed him looking.

"The rolls."

He wasn't sure because he was concentrating on finding the spring rolls, but he thought he saw a hint of a smirk appearing on her lips. Speaking of lips, she had taken a bite and now her lips were shiny from oil... Booth swallowed the lump in his throat.

"What about the rolls?" she asked. Then she bent over again. And took two spring rolls.

He took a mouthful so he wouldn't have to explain. Ok, Booth. Talk about the case. It's a weird one, you've got plenty to say. Talk about the old guy would knew the ladies, the one feeding the pigeons. Yeah. Talk about that. And stop looking at her cleavage. It's not gentlemanlike.

Brennan wasn't sure her experiment was working. She had caught him looking at her breasts a few times, but she couldn't really make an assessment based on that. Any men would have done the same. Attracted to her or not. She had an idea. She had seen this in a movie once. She smiled inwardly. And she brought a spring roll to her mouth. Maybe she was feeling puckish.

He finally looked at her, ready to make her laugh with the pigeon man. His pants tightened. She opened her mouth slowly, looking at him in the eye. Her tongue darted out a second to touch the roll before she wrapped her lips tightly around it. Jesus, Mary, Joseph! What is she doing?! He heard her moan.

"It's so good," she let out.

He felt his balls tensing up. He sprung up to his feet.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

Yeah, where are you going?

"Uhm... I forgot the napkins."

Smooth...

She narrowed her blue eyes and showed him a stack of napkins.

"They're right here..."

It was working, right?

She got up and took a step towards him. He quickly took a step back and his calves hit the couch. Don't come any further, you little minx! You don't know what you're doing to me. Or what I could do to you.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked. But it sounded more like a loud whisper, really.

"I... bit my tongue," he said, desperate. He had to get out of here. This was his partner. His best friend, really. He could not push her flat against the wall. He couldn't tear out that freaking blouse, even if it was really asking for it. Did she even realize...