Chapter Nine
Sara didn't know which sensation she was aware of first, but she knew she had to have died and gone to heaven. As she lay on her stomach, she could see the hand that was sliding along the length of her arm that was above her, a hand that she recognized immediately as one of a pair of hands she had watched for years; beautiful, strong and oh-so-sexy hands. She felt her weight being pressed into the mattress as a large body covered hers from her shoulders down past her rump where she felt a set of muscular legs lying between her own as well as a hard protrusion that was riding against her.
"I'm not sleepy," Grissom whispered into her ear, then moved his mouth to her shoulder where he spread soft kisses across it and on to her back and neck. "Are you sleepy?"
She smiled at the redundancy of the question, seeing as he just woke her from a deep slumber, but she didn't mind. She didn't mind if she woke up in this manner every day for the rest of her life. She lifted her hips and wiggled against his erection in response to his inquiry and heard him laugh gently against the side of her throat.
"See?" he said softly. "I didn't "think" you were sleepy."
Before she could lower her hips again, he pressed against her more firmly and opened her legs with his own. Both of his hands were now sliding over her arms and sending tingles through her. She could feel him becoming harder the more he pressed against her and the sensation was filling her with yearning. She moved her head closer to his arms as they were around her and she kissed the muscles she found there, taking pleasure in the way they rippled as he moved his hands along her softness.
"For some reason," he murmured against her back as his own hips slowly gyrated against her. "I'm finding sleep to be extremely overrated tonight."
She didn't know how to respond to him. She didn't know what to say. He effectively rendered her speechless. She reached behind herself and touched his beard, enjoying the sensation of it as he moved across her back and shoulders. She moaned gently when he captured her hand and nipped at her fingertips.
"Is that all you've got to say?" He breathed against her ear, then reached beneath her stomach with one hand and lifted her as he lowered himself until she could feel the tip of him pressing against her entrance.
She felt him attempt to press inside, but the fact was that he was too large to enter in this position without shifting her somewhat, so she moved herself until she could feel the tip of him sliding inside. She gasped at the invasion, knowing that this position would render her nearly helpless, yet when he lowered himself against her and rocked his hips, the pleasure was immeasurable. His thrusts were slow and he seemed almost relaxed.
"Sara," he whispered as he moved his hands until he was reaching beneath her chest and holding onto her breasts. "God, Sara, you fit me like a glove; a second skin; like you were created especially for me and only me."
His words were as stimulating to her as his actions and soon she was reaching down along her sides and back until she could touch his hips. His continued strokes were putting her into a state of delicious anticipation and she could feel him trying to maintain the slowness that would prolong their enjoyment.
She rode the rhythm that he executed and went higher with him until she thought she was going to go insane from the need of release. That was when she pressed back against him and lifted her hips, trying to lift him so she could get onto her knees.
"Are you ready?" he breathed against her and when she nodded her head once, he shifted his weight until he was his knees behind her.
His thrusts were becoming more powerful now, moving faster as he moved with her until she was standing erect on her knees and he held one hand to her breast, massaging and stimulating her; his mouth nipped at her neck and shoulder, and his other hand slid downward where his finger slid over the hard pebble that he knew would send her to the ends of the universe. She strained against him as she held onto his arm for support and soon she felt the explosion that she found only he could create. Her ending was so powerful that she felt slightly dizzy and had to reach out to hold onto the wall to keep from falling as his movements became so forceful that he was literally lifting her off the mattress. She was just becoming coherent from her own orgasm when she felt him hug her with both arms in a massive bear hug and actually growl until he, too, had to reach forward and grab onto the wall so he wouldn't collapse on her.
After many moments, he gently backed away from her then turned her body until she was facing him. He gave her a lazy smile as he took her hand and gestured for her to lie down on the mattress again, then he moved until he was lying next to her. She couldn't seem to take her eyes off of him. He was magnificent as she always knew he would be, but the added years only intensified the appeal. He turned onto his side to face her as he looked at her again.
"Aren't you going to say "anything?"
Her smile spread across her face as she looked back at him. "Um—it's about time?"
He chuckled. "Yeah, I guess it is."
"And—I told you so."
"What exactly would that be?"
"I told you long ago that it would be this good."
"You did." He stroked his hand up her arm in a lingering caress. "Anything else?"
"I—I don't know what to say—I don't know what to think. I think I need more time to let this all sink in."
He nodded his head in understanding, then moved a little closer to her and pulled her against him again. Her hand automatically went to his back where it stroked him until, this time, it was he who fell under sleep's spell.
Sara lay on the bed, holding him against her as she listened to his even breathing. She was still in a daze but soon her thoughts returned to San Francisco and the lecturer whose very presence opened her eyes to what desire could be. She walked into that room, not expecting much; after all, she was told he was an older gentleman, so she really didn't put much effort into her appearance that day. She didn't even see him as she walked through the door, she was more focused on finding a seat where she could listen to the speaker without being seen—that way if she found him overly boring, she could let her mind wander without being exposed. But, as luck would have it, just as she was heading for a seat that was off to the side, and almost hidden behind a pillar, another girl got to it ahead of her. She stopped, swearing under her breath, and stood looking around. The seats were filling up quickly and she was very near the point of simply turning around and walking out of the room, but she heard a man's voice that stopped her in her tracks.
"Miss? Miss?"
Sara almost didn't look at him, after all, she had no reason to believe that she was the one being spoken to, but after hearing two of the other students informing the man of her last name, she glanced toward the podium at the front of the room.
"Miss—Sidle?" he said as he looked at her and she felt her stomach do a flip-flop at the sight of the bluest eyes she had ever seen in her life. "There's an empty seat up here."
She looked at the seat he was gesturing toward and her heart sank. Front row—center seat. Damn! It might not have bothered her if he had been the "older" gentleman she had been warned about, but the fact that he was drop-dead gorgeous made her feel very awkward and unkempt.
"Thank—thank you."
Silently she made her way to the chair and sat down, trying not to look at him as she attempted to become as inconspicuous as possible. Jesus, she had her damned hair pulled back in a stupid ponytail. She was wearing her oldest cut-off denims and she thought maybe there might be a worn spot in the rear that was a tad bit too close to becoming a hole, and, she was wearing a tee-shirt that she should have thrown away long ago when it clung just a little bit too close for the sake of propriety.
Her self-consciousness kept her gaze pointed toward the floor for the first few minutes of the session, but as she listened to his voice, she couldn't help but become more and more attracted to the sound. Soon, she was glancing up at him and it didn't take long to realize that his eyes weren't the only thing that she found appealing. His nose was almost perfect, maybe showing a slight crookedness when looked at from one side, but otherwise could have been carved by the gods. His lips were sensual and as she watched him speak, she caught herself nibbling on her own lips. There was no thinking about it—she could see and feel herself kissing him, tasting him. And when he walked close, the smell of him made her knees weak. Before the end of fifteen minutes, her eyes were openly inspecting him and within another ten minutes, she noticed that he was beginning to watch her a little more than any of the other people in the room. Another half hour and she was completely lost on this man. She knew there was no way she was going to walk out of this room without making some kind of contact with him.
Usually a rather reserved individual, it was so unlike her as she waited for everyone else to leave after he finished his speaking. She was half afraid that he, too, would make his escape before she managed to approach him, but when there were only about ten students left as they surrounded him with their questions, she noticed how his eyes would wander past the circle of people and meet hers as she remained in her chair.
When the last of the people walked out the door, she swallowed with difficulty and felt a nervousness so intense she nearly ran from the room as well. She even managed to get to her feet, but as she moved onto the floor, his voice stopped her again.
"I'm glad you stayed, Miss Sidle."
"I—beg your pardon?"
"Earlier—when you couldn't find a seat. I'm glad you didn't leave. Did you find it worth your time?"
"Um—yes," she said as she watched him look up from the notes he was putting into his case. "I—was just wondering. . ."
And so began the questions that she couldn't seem to stop asking, reluctant to end their conversation and end their association. Finally, they looked toward the doorway as other people began entering and alerted them that they had been talking for nearly half an hour.
"I guess we better leave," Grissom said and politely placed his hand on her elbow as they left the room and started down the hallway toward the exit.
They squinted their eyes as they stepped outside and were blasted with the strong sunshine, then they looked at one another and smiled.
"Are—you going to be here long, Dr. Grissom?"
"Through the rest of the week. I'll be returning to Las Vegas this weekend."
"Are you planning on spending much time sightseeing with your wife?" she asked, already seeing the absence of a ring, but opening the opportunity for him to admit or deny the existence of a girlfriend.
"No wife. I'm afraid I'm married to my job. And I'm not familiar enough with the area to put a lot of effort into sightseeing."
"What about dinner? Have you made plans for dinner? I could show you a really great place by the harbor. You won't walk away hungry." She smiled at him as she nervously put her hand into her back pocket.
His eyes traveled over her and she could feel him admiring her appearance. "I'd love to go to dinner by the harbor. Should I pick you up?"
When he showed up that evening he had changed into a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled partially up his forearms. He played quite the gentleman as he took her to his car and then drove to their destination. Throughout dinner she noticed that he listened to her very attentively. He was the first man who made her feel bright and special; showing an interest in her opinions on almost everything. When they finished eating, he walked with her along the harbor and at times their conversation would become silent, but it felt comfortable. Sometimes their conversation would become serious, discussing various things that they were seeing on their tour, and sometimes they smiled and laughed at whatever antics happened to be taking place around them. By the end of the evening, she was more than prepared to take him into her apartment and show him how very much he intrigued her, but he refused to enter. Her heart felt like it was dropping out of her chest until he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips, suggesting that they spend the next four evenings touring other areas of the city.
By the end of the fourth evening, the thought of him leaving was tearing her apart. This time, when he walked her to the door, she knew she had to have him come inside, then perhaps she could show him how much he had come to mean to her—how much she wanted him. That was when she told him that she knew they would be great together, and that was when he smiled sadly at her and said he needed to leave. She watched him drive away, feeling lost the moment he was out of sight. She felt empty and the following days went by in a blur—until that first email arrived, and a two-year communication began, ending in an invitation to come to Las Vegas for a job as a CSI. How could she say no? Then, once she arrived, she found their friendship that she had valued so much had been pushed away, and the love she had hoped to find with him was hopeless. She often wondered just why she continued to stay and be treated with such indifference and at times even betrayal. Tonight, as she lay in the motel room holding him to her, she knew why. She couldn't let go.
