Disclaimer: Not mine. None of it. Not Grissom, not Sara, not CSI, not even the song. **iz sad**

A/N: Many, many thanks to losingntrnslatn and mingsmommy for their help. I appreciate it more than I can ever tell them.

"Asshole!" Sara screamed as she pulled out of the lab parking lot and turned her car towards home..

Once again she had let the man get under her skin. How did he do it? How did he manage to take her from walking on clouds to belly crawling through the mud with just a single sentence, a sideways glance, a well placed gesture? Two weeks ago she spilled her guts to him about her family, her darkest secret, while he held her hand and wiped away her tears. Just a couple of days ago they had been laughing and flirting in the layout room. Then yesterday…yesterday he took Sofia out to dinner. He spent the entire last shift avoiding Sara and then she had to hear the reason from Greg.

Stopping at a red light, she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. "He's such an asshole. Could he take me out to dinner? No!" Sara huffed out a laugh. "He can play true confessions with a killer but he can't be seen in public with me."

When the light turned green Sara was staring into space, as images of Grissom and Sofia together played like a bad movie in her mind. Resisting the urge to flip off the driver behind her when he blew the horn, Sara stomped on the accelerator and shot through the intersection. Reaching out, she turned up the volume on the radio, hoping the music would drown out her thoughts.

Guess this means you're sorry
You're standing at my door
Guess this means you take back
All you said before
Like how much you wanted
Anyone but me
Said you'd never come back
But here you are again

GSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSR

Sara ignored the quiet knock on her door. She knew right away it was him. No one else ever darkened her door. But if he thought he was going to drag himself over here after his date, give her some lame apology and that she was going to forgive him he was wrong. Dead wrong. Grissom was a smart man. A genius even. Surely he couldn't be that stupid.

The second knock was a little louder, a little more insistent. So she turned up the volume on the television. Nothing like listening to the women on The View at a sound level equal to a rocket launch, she thought. Settling back on the sofa, Sara let out a disbelieving snort when her cell phone began to ring. It clicked to voice mail then her land line started ringing.

Even over the grating sound of Joy Behar's laugh she could hear his voice coming from the answering machine. "Sara, I know you're in there. Open the door. I think you have…" The machine cut him off with a click.

This time he pounded on the door. His hand's gonna hurt, she thought with a satisfied smile. Serves him right. Again the phone started ringing and she just laughed.

His words were quieter, but now she could hear the anger riding just beneath the calm. "If you don't open the door I'm going to call Jim and tell him I think you're hurt. Tell him I'm worried. I can get a whole lot of people over here and…"

With a huff of breath, Sara pushed up off the couch. Unlocking the deadbolt, she threw open the door. "What do you want?"

Grissom stopped in mid-rant. His blue eyes seemed to burn her with the fire of his anger. Snapping his cell phone closed, he said, "I'd like to come in."

"And I'd like to win the lottery but the odds are against it." Sara stood in the doorway, one hand on the knob the other fisted on her hip. "What do you want?"

"I want you to stop jumping to conclusions. I want you to listen to me and not every rumor you hear flying around the lab. I want…you!" He spat the last word, hard and furious.

Eyes wide with shock, Sara took a step back. For a few seconds after Grissom had brushed past her, she continued to stand the in doorway. Finally, she turned. "You want me?" Her voice was deceptively calm.

He rounded on her, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. "Didn't you hear what I said?"

"Oh, I heard you all right. I'm just not sure I understood you." Sara faced him, fury carrying her forward until they were almost nose to nose. "Because, you see, generally when I want somebody," she sneered, "I don't take somebody else out to dinner."

"No. You go to movies with them instead."

Each syllable slammed into Sara like a fist. She couldn't remember ever having a real argument with Grissom before and she was surprised to find out he could fight dirty.

"Get out." Her voice shook but she didn't back away from him. When he only shook his head, she gestured toward the door, "Get out, Grissom. Just leave before we both say things we can't take back."

Grissom shook his head again. "If this is the only way to get you to listen to me then I'm staying."

"I've been listening for years. But you haven't had much to say." Anger flashed hot and bright in her chest. "Just tell me one thing. Why her?"

His eyes skimmed over her face. She could feel his gaze on her skin. She could see the pulse pounding in the hollow of his throat. And somehow she knew that right in that very moment everything in her life was about to change.

"Is that what you really want to know?" Grissom's voice was a whisper and she strained to hear him over the blaring television.

Sara opened her mouth, but the lie caught on her tongue. "No."

"Ask me, Sara."

Tears filled her eyes. "Why not me?"

Grissom's eyes were locked on hers, his voice so quiet she had to strain to hear him. "Because you make me feel too much…want too much. And that scares the hell out of me."

He moved then. Faster than she thought possible. One second he was staring into her eyes and the next he was kissing her. His hands cupped her cheeks and his mouth moved hungrily against hers. His tongue slid across her bottom lip before plunging into her mouth. And Sara's knees went weak.

She couldn't think. He was kissing her like he had every right, like he had been doing it for years. And she couldn't think. Anger and frustration and white hot lust blossomed out from the middle of her chest, until it filled her whole body. Hands that had fallen limply to her sides when he first pressed his lips to hers now came up to grip his shirt. She twisted the material between her fingers and held on.

Hard. He was hard for her. That one thought ran through her mind. But she couldn't hold onto it. Instead, her body took over. Instinct and need had her pressing against him, grinding, seeking. A sharp ache burned between her thighs. A sharp ache that needed to be satisfied.

When Sara dreamed of this moment her dreams were nothing like this. They were full of romantic declarations of love, followed by a sweet, almost chaste first kiss. They were vivid pictures of the two of them taking hours to discover each other. But Sara realized, even as Grissom moved them toward her sofa, the first time he was inside her was going to be rough and hot and everything she wanted right now.

He was lifting her shirt now, his hands brushing over her skin, skimming the sides of her breasts. With a quiet groan she pulled away from him and together they worked it over her head. Sara tugged at him, pulling him back for another kiss. But, with a quick grin, he dipped his head and ran his tongue over her neck. Her entire body reacted to the sensation and she let out a hiss of pure pleasure.

Her hands were fumbling at the buttons on his shirt, the release of each one bringing her that much closer to touching him for the first time. When the last one finally slipped free, she shoved the material off his shoulders and ran her hands over the smooth, warm skin she found underneath it. With fingertips so sensitive she was sure she could feel every pore, she touched him. The thickness of his chest, the slight softness of his belly, the dip of his navel, the broad plane of his back, the well defined muscles of his shoulders and arms, she skimmed her hands over him like a blind woman reading Braille, cataloging every inch. More, her mind screamed, oh God more. When his mouth closed over a nipple and his hand slid between her legs to rub her through her jeans, she gasped.

"Jeeeeee-sus," Sara dug her fingers into his shoulders. "Feels so good."

With a quiet pop he pulled his mouth from her and gave her a look she never expected to see on his face; pure male pride and something…tender. As quick as it came, the look was gone and he was sucking her other nipple between his lips, grazing it with his teeth, while his fingers kept up a steady rhythm between her thighs.

Desperate for his touch, Sara fumbled with the button and zipper of her jeans. The want was a living thing coiling and pulsing in her belly. She was walking a tightrope between pain and bliss and she needed him skin to skin. When she had her pants open, she grabbed his wrist and, unable to tell him what she wanted, helped him work his hand past the elastic of her panties. His short nails scratched the silky skin of her abdomen. Then he was touching her, his fingers rough and needy against her wetness. He cupped her, rubbed her, pushed her closer…closer. Until he slid a finger inside her.

The first wave hit her and she sagged against the arm he had wrapped around her waist. Her moan was low and seemed to go on forever. Her entire body pulsed in time with the muscles that gripped him. She could feel her heartbeat thundering in her chest; feel her lungs gasping for air. It was the most intense, most perfect moment of her entire life.

Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, and she saw him watching her. His eyes were navy blue. And in them she could see what it cost him to hold on to his control.

"Wow," she managed before he kissed her again.

His mouth was harder, more demanding, possessive and desperate. His finger pumped in and out of her in a slow, steady rhythm, keeping her off balance. Somehow she managed to work her pants and panties down over her hips. Then, with a gentle tug, she moved his hand and dropped to her knees.

Glancing up, she saw him watching her as she tugged at his belt, as she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. Hooking her fingers in his waist band, she slid them down until they pooled at his ankles. His erection bobbed free. The smell of him, earthy and primal, swirled around her. With a hum of approval, she reached out and touched him. Velvet. That's what he felt like. Soft and hot and throbbing in her palm.

Sara wanted to taste him, wanted to feel him filling her mouth. She wanted him at her mercy. So she leaned forward and slowly, gently, slipped her lips around his hardness. She was surrounded by Grissom; the sounds he made, the scent, the taste, the feel of him hot and hard against her tongue. His hands fisted in her hair and he made a helpless noise that slid over her like a caress.

Moving slowly, Sara savored him. His sweet, salty flavor. The weight of him. The way he stretched her. The fingers of one hand feathered through the soft curls surrounding his erection while the other moved between her own legs, pushing her need back to the boiling point. She breathed in his musky scent. Her tongue slipped along his length, teasing him, taking him as close to the edge as possible before pulling him back.

"Sara," he rasped, "You're killing me." He tugged at her hair and she lifted her head. "Come here."

She stood and he kissed her, his tongue sweeping through her mouth, swallowing her groan. And he was pushing her down on the sofa, covering her with his body. He was between her legs, his body heavy and solid against hers. Then his hips pushed forward and he pressed into her.

Sara's eyes slammed closed and she bit her lip as her body stretched around him. She heard his hiss of air and a low moan slid from her lips in response. When she looked up at him, he was watching her with such intensity she was sure he could see into her very soul. She wanted this moment, this one single point in time, to go on forever. It was everything she had ever dreamed and more.

He began to move. His hips rocked gently against hers. Sliding, ever so slowly, in and out, out and in, until she wanted to cry at the exquisite feelings rolling through her body. Lust and love tangled together inside her. She was lost in him and she knew he could see it in her eyes.

With a soft smile, she let her eyes drift shut. "That's so good," she whispered against his ear.

With a groan, Grissom increased his pace. Sara wrapped her legs around his hips, rocking to meet his thrusts. He was no longer the gentle lover of her dreams. He pounded into her, letting his need drive them forward. And Sara clung to him; her hips rising and falling, taking him deeper and deeper.

The air was thick, heavy; hard to draw into her aching lungs. Their sweat slickened bodies moved together as if they were made for each other, just like she had known they would. His mouth slid over her cheek and then he was whispering in her ear. Telling her how good she felt, how wet and tight she was, how he was going to come inside her.

With his head thrown back and her name on his lips, Grissom exploded. Sara felt the heat of it, the hard pulses. With a sob, her fingernails digging into the hard muscles of his shoulders, Sara followed him over the edge.

Time had no meaning. The two of them simply lay together, still joined, with his head resting on her shoulder. Eventually, Grissom rose up and looked at her. Brushing her hair off her forehead, he placed a soft kiss on her mouth.

"I didn't mean for this to happen. It's not why I came here." He eased off her and sat up. "I…"

Sara cut him off. "Please don't say you're sorry."

Running a hand through his hair, he shook his head. "I'm not sorry it happened, Sara. Only that it happened this way."

"Well," she reached out and threaded her fingers through his, "I've never done anything the right way."

He squeezed her hand, tugging it up to place a kiss on her knuckles. "God, aren't we the perfect pair?"