A/N Little linkage if you are reading this on LJ. I love names and meaning and proper names and all that jazz. More linkage to come in the next chapters.

Michelle and Jennifer are the best. They keep me honest. Okay as honest as I'm going to get be.

Enjoy.

Gil

She's sleeping in my bed. My Sara in my bed. How I want to roar.

Her sweet face is pressed into my chest, the sheets kicked off of her slim body. Her bare breasts catch the hint of dawn that slips through my bedroom window.

She's gained weight. Thank God. She's starting to look like a grown woman. She has hips and her bottom bounces a little now. She even has a tiny bit of cellulite on her right thigh. She was very proud to show that off when she was standing there without any clothes on I was harder than I have ever been before. One can only delude oneself for so long. I told myself that I didn't want to sleep with her. I continued telling myself that up until she told me I could do just about anything I wanted to.

She's beautiful. She doesn't think so and I don't know if I want her to know it. Once a woman realizes that she's beautiful, she starts trading up. The little money and encouragement I give her could be gotten from any man who has eyes and goes to work everyday. As it stands, she has no ideas what she's worth. One day she will, and this guy will be history.

She would never admit it, but she was practically a virgin the first time we slept together. She was far too tight for any woman that was getting it on a regular basis. And she's only had one boyfriend: Manny. I hope never to lay eyes on the man. I refuse to contemplate why that notion troubles me so. The very thought of him moving inside of her does not play out peacefully in my brain.

I didn't set off fireworks immediately for Sara. I hope, though I can't really know, that I aroused her and moved her to a level of satisfaction that she'd never known before.

I held her face into place with my hands. "Look at me."

She blinked once, twice. I can feel hard nipples pressed into my chest.

"How many people have you been with?" It was not a question I really wanted answered, but one I needed answered.

"One."

"How long ago?" I didn't really want to know that answered, either.

"What do you want me to do?" Her face filled with panic. "Please don't be mad, Gil. Please. I promise I'll do better. Just tell me what I'm doing wrong, I'll fix it?" She said and looked as if she was going to cry, her bottom lip pressing into a thin line of fright.. "What do you want me to do?" She was breathless as she pressed her body into mine. "I'll do it."

"You aren't doing anything wrong. I just didn't expect that you'd be so- tight and I don't want to hurt you."

"It won't hurt." She said too quickly, as she tried moving against me.

"Like you'd know." I buried my face in her hair, the clean scent blending into the smell of promised sex.

"Ssh," I said softly. "We'll do this together."

I thought about backing out of it again. I pushed the thought away. Because if nothing else, I want to provide her with a decent sexual experience. How very noble of me.

Demosthenes said, "Nothing is easier than self deceit, for what a man wishes, so he believes."

"Relax,sweet. Just relax."

Observation

He started over by dismissing their previous foreplay as inadequate for the night ahead. Sara needed more from him. Even if she didn't know it. He began by lifting himself away from her.

He studied her pale nude body.

She was perfect-for him.

He kissed her-completely.

His first order of business was her hair, stroking it lightly as he pressed his lips into her delicate, pear scented scalp. He murmured promises that he'd never made to anyone and wasn't entirely sure he could keep. Next came an intense series of pecks on her sweat peppered forehead. Eventually, he made his way to the apples of her cheeks and freckles of her nose. He took his time with her mouth, prying it open with the tip of his tongue, exploring every bit of enamel and bud as she sighed with pleasure.

When she started to go limp with some unknown emotion, he released her mouth and turned his attention to one surprisingly pale nipple.

It was his turn to sigh.

Her body was an unexpected instrument of pleasure. He'd known that he would enjoy it. Her body. It was tentative, always trying to reign in the passion that lay just below the surface. It wasn't anything he expected or yearned for really, but it was turning out to be everything he never knew he needed. Her restraint matched his fear perfectly. Though he couldn't have known it then, their unrestrained love and the passion it bred would also match, one day.

She bucked, just a bit, buried graceful hands in his longish curls and gave her first audible response.

"Shit."

"Tastes like honey," he murmured against her as strong thin legs wound round his waist. " I want to taste you every where. I will taste every succulent inch of you."

"Gah..."she urged him on.

The laugh that came from him was one of pure joy. It both calmed and frightened her.

"You're perfect, honey. Absolutely perfect. See how your breasts fill my hands perfectly. I dreamed of touching you for so..." looked up, pleased to see her mouth already starting to swell with the roughness of his kisses.

His left hand released the breast and found the soft nest of curls that were wet with her arousal. The heady smell of sex was wafting between them now, nearly driving him mad.

"Dreamed about having you under me," he whispered as he stroked the soft folds of flesh.

"Me too," Sara surprised him with a squeak. "I wanted you to...

Amusement and curiosity filled his voice as he peered up at her.

"You wanted me to what?" He couldn't keep himself from asking the question. He needed to know that she wanted him too. That she'd dreamed about him.

She didn't speak at first. Instead she molded herself eagerly into him. "Don't stop."

But he did stop, because he wanted her to answer him. "Tell me, sweet. What did you want me to do?"

Her face was red with embarrassment and arousal. She opened her eyes tentatively, glared at him for an instant and then closed them again.

"Please," she hissed.

"Tell me," came his voice in a sing song taunt.

"I wanted you to-you know-do this," came her fitful response.

"You want me to what? To stroke you? To touch you there? Tell me." His thumb flitted across the hard nub of her clit, driving home the point.

Impatiently Sara began to move her body around his still hand. "Uh Huh," she whispered licking the top of his shoulder lightly.

"And?" He prompted her, enjoying the feel of her tongue on his body; pleased that some of her shyness had retreated.

"Please…" she whimpered. "This feels soooooo good. You can't just -stop. That's-evil."

"It would feel better if I were working with you. Don't you think?" He took his hand completely away from her warmness then, resting it lightly on her thigh.

Seeing no other way, Sara gave a husky answer. "I wanted you to fuck me, to make love to me. I wanted you."

A growl hovered on his lips. He shook it off and directed his fingers back to the apex of her body.

She'd never felt like this before. Never thought anyone could feel like this. Her limited experience had taught her that women faked it and men probably didn't care. Even when they cared about you it was either them getting off or you getting off. But she was...on fire. And Gil, it seemed to her, was enjoying himself immensely.

Like in a romance novel she he was that ridiculous heroin that talked about loins and urges. He'd touched and stroked her and created fireworks behind her eyelids that beckoned her into a world she'd not thought possible.

Shaking off the cloak of self protection that was not only her second nature, but her only nature she focused on the moment and the man. Slowly, she dragged her hands up his back, across his slick shoulders, until she had secured both sides of his of his bearded face in her soft palms.

"I wanted you," she said with a brutal affirmation as he settled himself between her legs.

Sighing, she took her one hand from his face and placed it on his erection. With her urging, he started to slip inside her, one millimeter at a time.

"You have me."

Sara

I wake with the covers tucked around my waist and the familiar smells of breakfast coming from Gil's kitchen. It's Sunday. A day of rest. But there's no rest for me today. I've got a ton of reading to catch up on for A&P. It's junior college for goodness sake not grad school. But Dr. Wilson seems intent on focusing all of her considerable powers of concentration on me.

"Miz Sidle. I know you are a wunderkind, but this subject seems to be offering you challenges. Might I suggest some additional reading and less time spent… What is it you young people call it? Hanging out?"

I wanted to tell her that I don't hang out; that I have a man, two jobs and three other classes. But you just don't tell Dr. Theodora Wilson anything. So, I just nodded, smiled and took the reading list she proffered.

Kelly laughs at me. She's an anatomy whiz. Good thing, 'cause she's got her sights set on medical school some day. I am sure her patients will be happy to know that she's known where the kidney is since she was eight.

Speaking of Kelly, I need to check my email. She's sending me some three dimensional models that she made for "fun." I mean who does that? Of course now would be the time that Gil would say something smart alecky about buying old textbooks from the Salvation Army and reading them for "fun." That's totally different.

My eye catches sight of some folded fabric on Gil's side of the bed. It's pink. I don't do pink. As I unfold what turns out to be two garments, I reconsider the pink. They are very subtle with white piping alone the seems. They aren't slinky or ridiculous. They are just pretty pajamas. A slip of paper falls to the bed.

"If you going to be a grind at least you can do so in style. Breakfast is served."

Sweet!

I quickly put on the pajamas. They are very soft and feel like that perfect place between brand new and time to throw them out.

As I walk out into the common area I call out to Gil. "Thanks for the PJs"

I stop cold the second a short, dark haired man comes into view. He's sitting at the kitchen table eating an omelet, hash browns, sausage, and toast.

Sitting before me is what I can only assume is Gil's friend, Jim.

"Hello," I say, trying to sound relaxed. I don't think Jim knows about me. I take a quick look around the otherwise empty kitchen.

The detective stands, wipes his mouth and extends a gentle looking hand. "Good morning. I'm Jim."

"Sara," I offer my own hand. He gives it a quick touch and returns to his seat. "I didn't realize the breakfast company was going to be so attractive. No wonder Gil was trying to hustle me out of here-"

He stops mid sentence and stares at me for several, long, uncomfortable seconds. "I know you..."

He's right. He does know me. Shit! How does Gil's cop friend know me? I've never been arrested, just those two close calls. I study the man in front of me, putting my bartender's memory to work.

Kind eyes, tough mouth, deliberate cadence, efficient movement, East coast accent, well cut slacks and polo fitting perfectly on his small frame. Shit! It's Ellie's dad.

As if he's reading my mind he snaps his fingers. "Your hair was pink and you had a gray backpack."

Just then Gil appears from somewhere. "Who's got pink hair?"

Relief floods through me. Thank the universe for reasonable explanations. "I did-for about a week. I lost a bet to some of the kids I was tutoring. Who knew they'd all actually make As?

Gil shrugs and I'm relieved that he doesn't look worried, concerned, or in the worst case, pissed. He does look at me thoughtfully. "I think I might like you with pink hair. Sit."

I do.

Around the tiny round table, plates and hands nudge against one another as we eat.

"So, how do you two know one another," Gil asks, working hard at being casual. I think he might be feeling left out, or like I didn't tell him something important. Oh Gil. There's so much to tell.

"She tried to help Ellie detox once," Brass offers, trying to sound just as casual.

Observation

As they headed away towards Dancing Bear Golf Course, Brass watched Grissom out of the corner of his eye. He looked relaxed; too relaxed. Usually Gil was a much better poker player.

"You wanna know about the Ellie thing?" Brass wanted to know as Gil's hands turned glossy with tension.

"Sara'll tell me, if she wants me to know."

Brass nodded. "Right..."

They were silent for several miles as the scenery changed from single family bungalows and town homes to multi-level McMansions and finally ending in a bare landscape dotted with the occasional ranch house. For the first time maybe, Grissom saw the practical beauty of the large, cookie-cutter neighborhoods and the happy families that had found shelter there. Lately he'd been thinking of the escalating crime statistics in his own neighborhood weighing it against the excellent schools. He'd been thinking he didn't need the Tahoe and the Lexus. Or maybe he did. Maybe Sara didn't need her car. The Toyota was okay for the quick jaunts from Sara's apartment to the club or school. The trek wasn't terribly far away from his house. But it would make him feel better if she were driving a better car.

He'd been thinking it was time to at least have the beginning of the talk. He'd been thinking it was time to grow up, maybe settle down. He'd been thinking that maybe he wasn't completely hopeless after all. He'd been thinking that for the first time in a long while he didn't have any awful truths to tell the woman in his life. That he didn't have to wear his honesty with glaring virtue. He'd not been to another woman's bed, nor had he been tempted, since that first night with Sara.

Could you really turn it around like that? So easily?

When Brass could take it no longer, he began to speak again. "She helped out at this shelter Ellie landed at. You might know it. Agape over by St. Peter's."

Gil gave a muted head nod.

Brass continued. "I got the impression she lived there at some point. She was very kind to Ellie when that wasn't an easy thing."

Another mile passed and the entrance of the golf course appeared. As Grissom made a smooth turn into the course he breathed a hardly audible, "Thank you," as he turned shut off the engine.

"No problem," Brass replied not moving from the seat. "Gil, you do know Agape mostly deals with survivors of domestic abuse? Ellie was only there 'cause she'd burned her bridges everywhere else. "

"I know she hasn't had an easy life." Blue eyes searched the landscape for something it wouldn't find.

"You know what happened?" Brass turned to look out his own window.

"No… but she's got a scar…I figure she'll tell me when she's ready." His voice sounded far, off but less worried.

"Yeah…that's probably best." Brass shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I know a little bit about horse flesh, partner, and you two are good together. Shouldn't be, but you are."

"Yeah… I know," Grissom mumbled as a bit of guilt settled between them.

"She's a good kid, ya know…" Brass turned and silently tried to force his friend to meet his gaze. "This isn't one of your-things? Right?"

Sighing, Grissom's dark curls met the seat rest as he leaned back. Slowly he shook his head from one side to the other, crossing muscled forearms around his waist as he did so. "No… It's not one of my things… I think it's THE thing."

The hair on the back of Brass' hand stood at attention. A wave of something protective shot through him. "She's young Griss. I mean, she might look tough-hell, she probably IS tough. But she's still very...young."

"Sara can take care of herself." Grissom finally said tapping a rhythm out on his thigh.

TBC