COMMIT

CHAPTER THREE

commit/ 1 (usu. foll. by to) entrust or consign for: a) safe keeping b) treatment, usu. destruction c) official custody as a criminal or as insane 2) perpetrate, do 3) pledge, involve, or bind (esp. oneself) to a certain course or policy 4) (as "committed" adj.) (often followed by to) a) morally dedicated or politically aligned b) obliged c) memorize

A few minutes later, Grissom returned to the bar, looking a lot better. Sara sensed him hesitating behind her and spun around on her barstool. After looking him over carefully, she returned his shy smile.

"You were right," he said. "I was a mess."

"That's okay," she said. "It's understandable. I probably am too!"

She stood and moved to the side to go freshen up as well.

Grissom grabbed her arm. "Wait." Sara flinched, involuntarily. He dropped her arm as abruptly as if he had burned her. "Uh, sorry. There's something...I've been wanting to do...for hours."

"What's that?"

Grissom opened his arms in silent invitation. Sara moved immediately into his embrace. Grissom slid his arms around her shoulders and buried his nose in her hair. She trembled as she hugged him lightly around his waist. Grissom pulled her closer.

"I was..." he said, rocking slightly. "I was so scared, honey."

"Me too," she answered, muffled by her face buried in the crook of his neck. Honey?

They held each other for long minutes. Sara sniffled a little and he murmured little words of comfort. Finally she broke away and quickly wiped the tears from her face.

"I'll, uh, be right back." He nodded. She took a few steps and then turned back. "Grissom?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"Anytime." Again the hesitant little smile, which she returned. Sara made her way to the ladies room, a bit unsteadily.

Grissom sighed deeply, stepped back to the bar, and pulled out his wallet. He laid some bills on the wooden surface and caught the bartender's eye.

"Can I have two large ice waters, please?"

"Coming up." He rang up the drink purchase and then returned.

Grissom gulped down his water then pushed it back for a refill. Sara returned with her face scrubbed and pink, her hair pulled back in a loose knot, and her clothes a bit tidier.

"Hi."

"Hey." Grissom watched her from the corner of his eye. He was feeling a little braver now. Whether it was the alcohol or the hug, or both, he didn't care.

"Did you want any more?" he waved at the bottle of Jack Daniels.

"No thanks. It's going right to my head." Sara drank her water gratefully.

Grissom kept sneaking little looks at her. Finally he blurted, "Does it hurt?"

"Does what hurt?" she asked, puzzled.

Grissom touched his fingers to his own neck, the same spot that was scraped and reddened on hers.

"Oh. That." Sara pulled her collar up, and shrugged. "No."

"It looks like it does," he countered.

"It's fine. I'm fine."

"Can I...can I do anything?"

Sara said lightly, with that Sidle lilt, "Kiss it and make it better?"

Grissom's eyes darkened. His nostrils flared as he took a quick deep breath. He immediately leaned in, tilted his head and...gently, oh so gently, brushed his lips across that mark on her neck. Just a whisper of a touch. Sara shivered. Back and forth, not a kiss, just a light touch of the lips across her skin.

It was almost...reverent, Sara thought. It tingled, and the tingling spread.

And then, his lips parted, just slightly, just a little, and Grissom moved his moist lips across her throat. Sara made a soft "oh" sound and her head fell back. Inviting him. The lips brushing became a tiny kiss. The kisses became larger and firmer. A frisson of pleasure ran up her spine and along her scalp. And then, he swept his tongue across that same injured place. She really did moan this time, a deep sound of need.

Grissom became bolder. He spread his adoring kisses up and down her throat, down to her shoulder, up and along her jaw, down again to the hollow between her collarbones. He delighted in feeling her pulse race through her veins, feeling the goosebumps spread, and hearing her breath hitch.

Grissom kept his hands on the bar rail, gripping it, and hers were limp in her lap. Was it more arousing than if their hands were all over each other? she wondered. In any case, Sara thought she had never experienced anything as erotic as this in her life. Heat flared in her sex. Every nerve just under her skin was pulsing with energy.

She rolled her head to the side and started kissing his neck too, keeping the pressure and intensity in tune with his. Grissom felt his heart pound and his fingers tremble, itching to explore. His cock was as hard as steel. Every touch of her lips was heavenly torture. He groaned.

They nuzzled each other. Kissed, licked, suckled and nibbled gently. Giving and receiving this intense, comforting, passionate, reassuring and sexually charged pleasure. Necking. Like horses, or swans, or giraffes.

Sara laid her palm on his thigh, feeling the tensed muscles there. Reluctantly, Grissom pulled away and looked into her eyes. He saw her passion and arousal. And had no doubt that the same was in his eyes.

"Sara." The name was a caress.

"Hmm?" She looked dreamy.

"We should go."

"Okay." She would have done anything, anything at all, he asked her to at this point. Grissom slid his hand around hers, still on his thigh, and threaded his fingers between hers. He ran a finger down her jaw then stood, tugging her with him.

Grissom turned toward the door.

"Wait." Sara said firmly.

He looked back at her, an eyebrow raised.

Sara cupped a slender hand to his cheek and kissed him.

TBC

A/N: Please send a review? To HeartsandEyesDelight–this is the image–the GSR nuzzling–that made me write this story. Thanks for asking.