A/N: New, longer chapter...enjoy!
To Love Someone
Chapter 3
Gil Grissom thought she was beautiful; lying beside him, her pale, smooth skin visible above the bed sheet, dark erect nipples he wanted to touch. He wanted to place his hand on her chest to feel her heart beat.
His wife opened her eyes.
"You're awake." He moved his hand to rest against her face. He knew these afternoons were coming to an end; in ten days, she would leave him. Gently, his fingers caressed her cheek. "I'm afraid I rushed things."
Her face bloomed as she smiled. "Rushed? No, not at all." She rolled against him, lifted her head and kissed his lips. "I'm going to miss you," she whispered.
"We'll be good—this is a fortunate turn of events—we can look at it that way."
"I never thought I'd return—return to work."
Her head settled against his shoulder as his arm wound around her, kissing her forehead. He said, "What if we look for a new place? A house—with a yard—one of those you like with lots of windows and light."
When she remained quiet, he continued, "You can decorate it—any way you like—lots of plants." He took a deep breath before whispering, "Plenty of room."
With fingers as light as gossamer, she touched his chest, moving up to his throat and his chin. "We don't know if there will…"
His arm tightened around her as he said, "There was once—the doctor said that's a good sign." He kissed her, slowly, pulling her to his face so their lips met. His fingers combed through her hair for several moments as each reflected on the past months.
"We did manage to get married," he said. Feeling her quiet sigh, he continued, "It won't be long and I'll be back home." Another long silence. "We'll have a family—a little girl who looks like you. I'd like that."
Sara raised her head so she could look into his eyes. Her fingertips moved across his face, tracing along his lips, the cleft of his chin. With a weak smile, she said, "A boy—we might have a boy."
"Two—one of each," he whispered.
Her eyes. Simply dark eyes when he glanced at her but in the intimacy of their bed, they were luminous, colored a rich, incredibly warm shade of chestnut brown with flecks of gold that could be fiery or serene. The combination of those eyes and her quick, gentle smile had always had a powerful effect on him.
He smiled, pleased they were looking forward; they'd had some sad days following their sudden loss—almost before they had known Sara was pregnant, she wasn't.
This place had helped them regain a sense of balance, a happiness as a couple in a place filled with history. The small apartment in an old residence hotel where others lived a temporary life for a few months, even a few years, met their short-term needs.
Who needed space when the entire city of Paris was waiting to be explored?
Most mornings, they walked to the Seine, spent time gazing at the river, and then found one of several favorite restaurants for breakfast; places that were fragrant with aromas of bread and coffee, that used silverware and china cups, and waiters who had made a profession of serving food.
By mid-morning, he would be in a classroom or lab at the university while Sara wandered narrow streets and wide boulevards along with thousands of tourists. One night, she had described Paris as a city with a door left open into heaven. He had agreed.
Suddenly, he had a thought. He said, "Let's go away for the weekend—some place in the country—or by the ocean."
Sara immediately perked up, lifting her head and resting her chin on her palm. "Oh! That's a great idea! I'd like that. We haven't been to the beach since coming to France." A quick frown; she said, "Do you think we can find a place in August?"
He nodded. "I know someone—let me make a call."
Minutes later, he'd written down a number for a place on the Normandy coast. As he punched the numbers on his phone, he said, "Wilkinson said we can borrow his car—thinks we'll love this place."
After a series of slow-deliberate questions and responses in tourist-French, Grissom was smiling and agreeing in English to whatever was said. After disconnecting, he said, "We have a room with a view from Thursday to Sunday including three meals of our choice—restaurant, in room, or picnic."
Sara had snuggled next to him, arm over his chest. She asked, "What's the view?"
Grissom chuckled. "I have no idea—maybe the coast?"
Two days later, he managed to double-park the small Renault in the street while Sara came downstairs with their two bags. Once seated beside him, she gave him a smile that was delightfully cheeky.
"Onward, Jeeves! Northward bound!" She laughed, a warm, intimate sound to his ears.
For two hours, he drove, sometimes at a snail's pace, sometimes on a fast, clear road. Out of the city, lush fields of golden grains, purple and yellow flowers, and apples trees spread as far as eyes could see.
Turning off the highway using handwritten directions, they were soon lost in a small village. After circling the village square for the second time, Sara asked for directions from a group of men.
One spoke English well enough to give new, complicated directions and in a short time, they left the village on another road driving in what both thought was the wrong direction and laughing as they speculated where they would end up.
After driving through the countryside, seeing nothing but pastures and a few cows, the narrow road dipped and then climbed a ridge where the unexpected view was so spectacular it caused Grissom to stop the car.
"He said it was a beautiful drive," Sara said, her voice hushed in awe.
A verdant green carpet spread before them for miles before disappearing at the edge of a turquoise sea; towering chalk cliffs rose from the edge of the water. A pebbly beach, marked with colorful sun umbrellas, made a long arc where the cliffs ended. And nestled along the beach was a small town—a village—their destination.
As Grissom drove into the parking area of the small hotel, the crunch of gravel was hidden by the sound of breaking waves. The building, a three-story house, was built of stone and timbers; curtains stirred at open windows. Inside the hotel, the smell of furniture polish mixed with salty air and the hint of baking bread caused both to smile as Grissom registered at the desk.
Their upstairs room was actually two rooms, a sitting area with a small balcony and a larger bedroom; the walls, the rugs, the fabrics were blue and cream. At one end of the bedroom, a folding screen concealed a stone soaking tub large enough for two people.
When they were alone, Sara hugged her husband and said, "It's beautiful!" Then she explored, asking, "How on earth does one get a stone tub inside this room?"
Grissom laughed as opened doors to the balcony. "The rooms are nice—now check out this view."
Downstairs at dinner, in a room filled with plants, wicker chairs, white table tops, and several quiet couples, they ate delicious soup and cheese, grilled vegetables and salad; Grissom ate trout boned at the table. After a walk on the beach in lingering daylight, they returned to their room for Sara to discover the bathtub filled with steaming water fragrant with the scent of lavender.
"You told someone!" She exclaimed as her hand tested the water.
Smiling, Grissom said, "Of course, I did—especially after the trout—and we haven't had a real bath in months."
The Paris apartment had a small bathroom with a minuscule shower and now, Grissom remembered the enjoyment of watching Sara bathe. In seconds, she stripped clothes off and left them piled on the floor.
"Join me," she insisted.
"In a few minutes," he said before pulling a chair near the tub. He watched as she climbed into the tub, giving a tremendous sigh as she disappeared underneath the water.
A few seconds later, her head appeared; a smile on her face. She said, "This is incredible, magnificent." Drawing her knees up, she motioned with her hand. "Come in. Lots of room! We can soak together."
In truth, pausing at the edge was something Grissom enjoyed so he stayed in the chair watching Sara sink below the water, stretching her body the length of the tub before surfacing again.
"Come in," she pleaded. "It is heavenly!"
Once in the tub, he knew how quickly a soak would turn into something else. He took his time closing curtains and turning off the lights in the bedroom before taking off his clothes. He even took time to hang his clothes in the closet before he stepped into the tub and then counted to twenty before he lowered his body into the tub.
Stroking her back, using the backs of his fingers, he listened carefully to her breathing. A responsive lover, he let her led him to places where she liked to be touched; her shoulders, her neck, the inside of her thighs. Slowly, with gentle familiarity, they found each other, found a way to encourage and fit into place with each other.
He wanted their lovemaking to go on and on and eventually, they managed to get out of the tub and into the soft bed. A long kiss as they climbed under the coverlet; her hands on his back, urging him on, as he entered her and the kiss ended as she breathed a soft "oh".
A/N: Thank you for reading! Another special thanks to those who review!