A Few Days in Paris Chapter 7
Much later, because playing in the park without their mother meant each of her children wanted her attention so Sara left Catherine and Grissom cleaning the kitchen and doing nightly laundry as she laid out clothing for the next day, combed hair, tucked the boys into top bunks and Bizzy into a lower bed all the while followed by the twins who seemed to be stuck with glue to their mother's side. Ava and Annie were the last to crawl into beds, both almost asleep before Sara pulled covers around them, getting a sleepy promise to be good girls while shopping.
Quietness descended on the apartment as children slept and the adults quietly talked about the next day activities.
"Catherine, you do not have to take the girls to one of the big stores. They will be thrilled to walk into any little shop along the street—you don't have to walk more than three or four blocks," Sara said as she joined Grissom and Catherine.
"No, we are going to Printemps and Galleries Lafayette! Every girl needs to shop the famous stores at least once—even you," she teased.
Grissom fished his wallet out of his pocket, removed all the paper money in it, and tossed it toward Catherine. "Don't let them spend more than this."
Catherine did not touch the bills, but laughed. "I'll tell you what—let us shop tomorrow and I'll give you the bill afterwards. Keep your money—plastic is better." She yawned. "All this fresh air and French food and wine put me to sleep! Or the carbs and chocolate—I sleep as soundly as Ava and Annie."
~~Grissom had showered earlier and stretched across the bed with one of the tourist guidebooks intent on mapping out the easiest route to the museum for the next day. He heard the same music they had heard their first night. His eyes closed, his head dropped, and his glasses slid to the end of his nose.
Sara hurriedly finished her shower, tied her hair back, and pulled her surprise out of a very small shopping bag she had earlier hidden behind the towels. She grinned as she thought of Catherine's shopping remark—Catherine was not the only one thinking about shopping in Paris. Years ago, Sara had learned of a certain passion or predilection Grissom had for one piece of clothing and she pulled the plum colored silk up her legs. The panties fit just below her waist, high at the hip in the style called French-cut. She thought it appropriate as she slipped the silk and lace tee shirt of the same color over her head. Grissom would be surprised, she thought with a smile.
Years ago, she had asked him if they would always be like this—passionate with desire for each other. He had been silent for several minutes before answering. "Sara, I will always love you, desire you above everything else. In twenty or thirty years, our love will be stronger, we will have memories and hardships, and we will love each other even stronger." He had laughed and held her close, saying "Maybe we will not be tearing clothes off once the door is closed or making love three times a day, but we will love each other."
In the bedroom, Grissom slept with one arm across her pillow as if he had been reaching for her before falling asleep. He was lulled awake by the pleasurable sensation of lips nuzzling and kissing his neck as soft warm fingers removed his glasses.
"Hmmm…" He sighed and hugged her tightly, seeking her lips and kissing her slowly and then with increasing passion as she responded. Once he realized his hands were touching silky fabric, he broke away. "What's this?" A grin spread across his face, his fingers running along the low neckline.
"I did a little shopping on my way home," she whispered while running fingers through his hair. She made a quiet throaty laugh. "But if you are sleepy…"
His hands pushed the fabric of her shirt upward and he noticed her panties. A deep chuckle started in his chest. He dropped the hem of the shirt as his fingers slid to her waist, hooking thumbs against her skin and the fabric. "Excellent, excellent choice, Mrs. Grissom." He rolled her onto the bed, kissing her shoulder before peeling the shirt over her head. She giggled. "That didn't last long," he whispered. He kissed the exposed skin starting at her collarbone and working downward between her breasts, holding her with one hand while the other stroked with feather touches, no urgency in his actions—yet.
They lay facing each other for a while, kissing, touching, legs wrapped, allowing their desire to rise gradually. Sara moaned softly as her back arched and hands moved over his shoulders.
"You are wearing too many clothes."
Briefly, Grissom's hand left her body to pull his shirt over his head. His fingers resumed their task of working a path from her neck to her belly, his lips followed. He pulled at the elastic band with his teeth, gently letting it snap against her skin before doing it again. His hands caressed her hips and backside before sliding one hand between her legs. He heard another soft moan as she rocked her hips.
Her hands were not idle; she caressed his back, gliding fingers along his shoulders and spine, entangling fingers in his hair. Enough light came from the window for him to see the dark fabric against her creamy skin.
"Sara, sweet Sara, I need you." Gently, his thumb moved underneath the dark silk; his fingers followed finding her warm and damp. He sought her lips, kissing deeply, starved for each other's breath and taste. Tongues found teeth and lips, arms and hands found intimate contact with bare skin.
"I…miss…you…every…minute…you…are…not…with…me," she whispered, spacing every word with a kiss as he pushed his pants to his ankles and kicked them away. Then he was back against her, his hips pressing against her before he found his place.
Over the years their lovemaking had changed, evolving as they learned more about each other and how to prolong and control their passions for stamina to prolong the act, yet their unions were always intense and gratifying. Tonight, surprised from his sleep and by the plum garments of his wife, Grissom had responded with an unusual urgency.
Sara's bold playfulness, her lips and hands touching him in sensitive places, caused another moan to escape his mouth which made her cover his mouth with hers as she whispered, "Quiet, dear," before she giggled.
It was powerful; Grissom's release came in a blinding flash, and several minutes passed before he knew Sara had also reached the feminine equivalent of his passion. Her fingernails pressed into his back before softening their grip, her muscles relaxed, but she held him within her. For a few minutes, neither spoke; Sara's dark eyes reflected all he needed to know.
They lay entwined in happy exhaustion; Sara pressed her face against his neck, inhaling his masculine smell, content and satiated. She found words first.
"I need to shop more often," she whispered.
"You know I love you regardless of what you wear." Grissom's voice was deep and mellow, a husky whisper. "But I do love taking them off."
"I am a little afraid about tomorrow—the girls going shopping."
A rumble came from Grissom, "They will be fine. Catherine loves them; they love her. Ava seems to be on her best behavior—I think she wants her Aunt Catherine to believe she's a good little girl."
He wrapped arms and legs around his wife. "We will arrive in plenty of time for the ceremony—with Catherine's help, we will be clean and well dressed." He snuggled against her hair. "Don't worry about a thing—everything will work out." He rearranged bodies bringing Sara even closer and managed to wrap an arm tightly around her back so he could cup her breast in his palm, possessively and protectively.
Sara's eyes closed; peaceful and satisfied with her life, comfortable with Catherine's natural gift with organizing—and shopping.
A/N: Thanks for all the reviews and comments! And another chapter soon--Catherine shopping with 3 little girls!
