"He's in his bunk," he said. "Just go through that hall right there," he pointed to the hallway at his back with a thumb. "His door is the first on the right. He doesn't share a room with anyone."

Why he was telling me that last tidbit, I didn't know, but I'd take it.

It was obvious that Booth needed to talk about something, and I'd oblige him if he needed it.

"Thank you," I waved, already heading in the direction of Booth.

"No problem, sweet cheeks," Bowe clicked his tongue at me.

I tossed him the finger over my shoulder and entered the hallway on his laugh.

I didn't knock on Booth's door as I walked in, being sure to be quiet in case he was sleeping.

Which he was.

With the light on and classic rock on fairly high.

He was on his back, his large, buff arms were above his body, hands crossed behind his head.

The tattoos that ran across his chest and abdomen were relaxed.

His abs, though, even in their relaxed state, were still just as defined as ever.

His chest rose and fell with steady, even breaths.

His eyes were closed, his beautiful lashes fanned out across the top of his cheeks.

His hair was still wet, indicating that he'd just gotten out of the shower.

He was also only in a towel.

And his cock was perfectly outlined by said towel.

I closed the door as soft as I possibly could and then locked it for good measure.

I licked my lips as I walked towards him, stopping at the end of the bed.

Bending down, I placed the gallon of sweet tea on the floor beside the bed, and the bag directly next to it.

A soft snore came from Booth, causing me to smile and contemplate recording the snore.

But I chose not to, valuing my life.

He was always saying that he didn't snore, and I made sure to take evidence of the snoring each and every time I caught him doing it.

But he was already in a questionable mood, so I wasn't going to make it worse if I could help it.

Slipping my shoes off my feet, I put knee onto the bed and started to crawl up between Booth's splayed thighs.

I hesitated over the towel, but continued on up his chest until I came to a stop right above his face.

He opened his eyes and looked at me sleepily, then smiled.

"Took you long enough," he rasped huskily.

I smiled at him.

"It took me less time than the time I originally gave you," I told him.

He shrugged and lifted his arms, throwing them around my waist and pulling me into his chest.

I went willingly, bringing my knees up to rest on either side of his hips.

Which then meant that my bottom half was pressed snugly into his.

My belly twinged, but not enough for me to move away from him.

"What'd you bring me?" He asked.

"Taco Hell," I said. "Like you asked."

He grinned. "You need to stop calling it that. It's slander."

I shrugged and dropped my lips down on top of his.

"It is what it is," I said between kisses. "I can't change that fact."

He growled into my mouth and pulled me in tighter, pushing his hips up to let me feel the long length of his erection.

Not that I hadn't felt it before.

It was hard to miss that massive beast.

Now, though, I could feel the long column of his cock against the seam of my pussy lips.

"You can't do this at work," I chastised, trying to get up and off of him.

He held me tight, though, making sure I couldn't leave, even if I wanted to.

"I can do whatever the fuck I want," he informed me, sitting up and fastening his mouth to the side of my neck.

I moaned and tilted my head, allowing him greater access to my neck.

Things sort of deteriorated from there.

I couldn't say that I was responsible, because when it came to Booth, I didn't have any control at all.

I was his, completely and forever.

If he wanted me, I couldn't deny him.

I let him yank my pants off my legs, thankful that I'd worn crocs today instead of the usual tennis shoes.

I was even more thankful that I'd worn a thong, seeing as it was much easier to push it to the side to make room for his cock.

I heard the distinct sound of a condom tearing open, then he lifted me up and fumbled underneath me while he worked it onto his length.

Then I was being filled by him.

There was no buildup. Then again, I didn't need any buildup.

All I had to do was walk into a room with him in it, and I was ready for him.

Today he'd already been almost naked, so I'd already been thinking about him that way, anyway.

He started to pump into me, fast and hard.

The bed underneath us squeaked as the springs groaned with our movements.

My head was swimming as he pushed into me so hard that he bottomed out, eliciting a long, deep gasp from my throat.

"Fuck yes," I whispered, dropping my forehead down onto his.

He rumbled an agreement, not slowing his pace.

Even though I was technically on top, he was in control. Completely.

He chose our speed. The depth I took him. The angle. Everything.

And that was why, when he wanted me to orgasm, he angled himself differently and I did.

It took about four strokes as the head of his cock worked against my G-spot and I was gone.

Light burst behind my eyelids and a loud ringing filled my ears.

I bit my lip and rode my orgasm out of him, but all too fast it was gone and Booth was pulling himself out of me.

"Fuck," he growled, ripping the condom off of himself and hurrying to the lone dresser in the room where he pulled out his boxer briefs, and slipped them on.

I was laying on the bed, panting and trying to recover, as I watched him pull his pants on, too.

Then his shirt followed.

It was then I realized the ringing I'd heard during my explosive orgasm wasn't in my head, but actually in the air surrounding us.

The 'tones', as Booth called them, were dropping.

"What about your burritos?" I asked him.

"Put them in the fridge," he said, slipping his feet into his unlaced boots. "I love you."

Then he was gone, and I was left watching the closed door.

Pant less.

And still without answers as to why he'd been acting the way he was acting.

Shit!

Chapter 17.

Real friends support you no matter what. If you want to be a bitch, they'll help you be the biggest bitch you can be.

-Best Friend Fact Masen I'd been lying in my bed, a bed that was covered in Booth's scent, when I realized that I'd forgotten to leave him the camera card.

Not wanting it to be washed if I forgot about it, I'd gone to get it out of my pockets when curiosity struck.

I slipped the camera card into the computer, not surprised that the camera had picked up over seventy pictures in ten days.

It was now ten in the evening.

Now here I was, reviewing the pictures that probably didn't show a damn thing.

The first fifteen pictures were what you'd expect.

The first one was of Booth setting the camera up, his buff arms on display.

The second and third were of me checking the mail.

The fourth through the tenth were of the mailman and the UPS guy dropping off mail and packages.

The next four were of nothing but the wind swaying the trees.

The fifteenth, though, was of more importance than the rest.

It showed a black clad figure standing next to the box.

The pictures following it showed him smashing the mailbox to smithereens.

It'd taken him fifteen minutes to do.