A/N: A new chapter! And if you haven't reviewed, take a few seconds to send us a comment! Thanks!
Gil Grissom's Romance Part 2
CHAPTER 10
For three days Grissom followed Sara; for three nights, he slept in the bed next to hers. Four feet between the beds. As he punched the pillow another time, turning to the 'cool' side, he willed himself to sleep.
Physical work and long days combined with a daily hike into the rainforest to work with Nancy as she looked for the rare beetle, exhausted everyone—him most of all. But now, his fourth night beside, separated from Sara, who's soft breathing indicated she was asleep, by four feet led to insomnia. He realized he had not thought about what would happen after he arrived, but he didn't think it'd be this way.
His mind went back to their meeting; she was happy to see him, hugging him, keeping her hand in his as she introduced him to the others. She had quickly wiped away tears that formed as she'd gathered her belongings. They had left the remote research station and she questioned him about his retirement—obviously astonished that he had come to join her—and questioned him about Hank, his mother, the team, even Natalie, as they walked back to the research center.
She had been loving and kind—and, he thought—hesitant as he had unpacked. And she had remained hesitant as the first day became the second and third day. They worked within a few feet of each other all day, always amiable good-natured and good-humored—as she was with everyone else. She would be up and dressed before he woke; in bed by the time he reached the room at night. She kissed him each morning and each night but managed to avoid any intimate contact. And while he did not want to push her, he ached for physical contact, for the intimacy they had enjoyed. To have her beside him instead of four feet away. To put the ring he kept in his shirt pocket on her finger.
Punching his soft pillow again, he rolled over and stared into the darkness that was outside the screened windows. He knew frustration was not the answer yet his hand formed a fist; he wanted to hit something and the only thing available was the mattress.
To his surprise, tears sprang to his eyes. His clinched fist ground against the sheet. He told himself it was love for her that tore through him as his eyes moistened again. He squeezed his eyes shut, taking deep breaths, trying to drive his emotions into a cage he kept well buried.
He didn't know how long his eyes were closed, but gradually his senses came back. He heard bird sounds; he smelled the damp forest after a brief rain. He realized there was soft light in the room. As though coming into the world again, his eyes adjusted and he saw Sara standing by his bed. The light was behind her so all he could see was her outline. He saw her hand reach out.
His own hand rose and landed softly in hers.
Slowly, seemingly taking long minutes, she came to the bed, sitting beside him, folding her hands over his. Her hands were delicate with slim fingers covering his. In that instant, he knew the gold ring would fit her perfectly. A gentle fingertip traced across his knuckles.
In a whisper, she said, "From the first moment I saw you, I knew. All those years ago—I knew I loved you. I'm not sure I knew what it was other than a connection—one I felt so strongly that I—I moved to Vegas to work with you. To be with you."
Grissom saw a brief smile on her lips as she hesitated before continuing, "I love you and I need you."
His eyes burned as she leaned over his face and kissed him, softly, on his lips. He whispered, "I love you, Sara." His fist opened and moved to her hair.
They parted and he sat up. He could not bend his legs into a yoga pose as Sara did, but they managed comfortable positions, their knees touching, hands together.
"Tell me," she whispered.
He told her—of visiting Heather Kessler, of a small Korean boy who murdered, of a soap doll hanging from a string, and of old lovers who were lost to each other—and of a restlessness he had never known. He decided it was time to change. By the time he told her of taking Hank to his mother, she was stretched beside him and his fingers were gently touching her face.
And she talked about why she left—not directly but gave him an analogy her psychiatrist had told her. How we entered life as babies in a long hallway with many doors along its path and exited when we died. In between, we moved along, selecting some doors to open, leaving others closed, and everyone, every thought, every action from those opened rooms came with us. Became part of us; the good, the bad. And until we made peace with the unlikable, unpleasant, and horrible people, thoughts, and actions, they would run our lives, flashing before us when least expected.
"That's my life, Gil," Sara whispered. "I'm sorry I left you—I knew if I didn't leave—if I stayed in Vegas, I'd jump into that dark hole again." She sighed. "My stay in San Francisco—I think I've finally made peace with that part of my past—it was time to leave." She paused and sighed. "I ran because I thought my problem was location—it's not—it's," briefly, she smiled. "I needed a—a change—to change."
She sighed again, and then took a deep breath. "People can change," she said. "I've changed—I think I've found myself."
Grissom smoothed her hair and looked at her face with such certainty that she shivered. "I'm here—with you." Quietly, he chuckled, saying, "It took me a little longer to realize it was time to leave." He could feel Sara's heart beating against his chest. "I—I'm in the process of changing."
He leaned nearer and she closed her eyes. And then he was kissing her.
After three days and three nights, in the early hours of the fourth day, they became lovers again. On a long tidal wave of passion, his body, his heart, starved, leaped into a pool of pleasure. Sara responded with demanding hands and a low moan as his arms wrapped around her body. Responses so long deadened and ignored snapped into life and sizzled.
He had to touch her, had to feel her flesh under his hands. Tugging at her shirt, fueled by a sexual rush that made him feel like a teenager, his hands swept upward, his thumbs found the rise of her breasts. She trembled under his touch.
A sudden rain storm slapped against the awnings over the windows. The air was warm, fragrant with flowers and, as his nose and mouth met her breast, with the scent of her. The rain hid the delicious little sounds that were purring in her throat. He wanted to gulp her down, plunge into her soft body. But he did not; slowly, he explored.
He kissed her as if he couldn't get enough—with impatience and heat and hunger—would never get enough. When he would draw away, she went with him, sliding tender hands against his body. Her lips curved against his mouth as his teeth gently took her bottom lip.
She was flipping the buttons of his shirt; pulling him on top of her once she had opened his shirt.
"Hurry," a breathless whisper as she arched under him pushing his pants down, freeing him.
His hands stroked, slow and firm, touching her in intimate places that brought soft gasps and responses he remembered.
She was eager, hips arched, hands touched him that aroused him even more. And he forgot about patience and feasted. A wave of pleasure caused a soft croon of his name as he stroked her, finding her hot, wet, and pulling him inside her.
In short minutes, she exploded under him, her body wildly plunging against his. She moved with him, held him close, as she surrendered to his hands and mouth and watched him range over her.
As his pace quickened, as he plunged into her, as a desperate sound was muffled against her neck, his passion took the final leap, leaving him shattered and stupefied.
For a while, they were quiet; the sheets were tangled and damp. Sara was as limp as water.
Finally, she said, "I feel like a virgin—was a virgin." She giggled, softly, kissing his neck as the sound bubbled from her throat.
Running his hand through her hair, he replied, "I feel like I've been in a desert." He kissed the top of her head and then fanned the sheet over them.
A rain-cooled breeze blew through the windows; rain continued to hit the awnings, a steady drumbeat on wood. Grissom realized the sound of rain wasn't just on the awnings, but was coming from the forest, cascading through dense foliage and onto the undergrowth. Trails would be waterfalls, he realized.
He asked, "What do we do when it rains?"
Expecting one response, he was surprised when Sara said, "We stay here—read, sleep, do laundry, review field notes—eat." She kissed him on the cheek. "And if we can find music, we can do this again." A stifled giggle ruffled his hair.
With great care, he moved Sara and got up from the bed, moving with a suddenly remembered stagger to where his shirt hung on a peg. A few second later, he turned to find Sara watching him, a smug smile across her face. He was naked and sweaty and the light that had been soft earlier seemed to reflect off his pale skin in a harsh glare.
Quickly, he got back in bed and covered himself with the sheet. Putting an arm around Sara's shoulders, he said, "I asked once and I was unprepared—now, I'm asking again." He opened his closed hand. The soft light reflected in the gold ring giving it a luminous radiance as it lay in the palm of his hand.
"Will you marry me, Sara Sidle."
A quiet puff of air came from Sara. For a second, she hesitated before she picked it up. Holding the ring with her thumb and index finger, she turned it as the light bounced and reflected on the gold band.
"It belonged to my grandmother," Grissom said as he took the ring, lifted her left hand, and slipped the ring on her finger. He smiled, "Perfect fit."
Sara stretched her arm, moving her hand, and wiggling her fingers. "It fits!" Surprise evident in her face.
Thinking his mother had been right, he said, "Do you think we can figure out how to get married?"
Sara's laughter quieted when he kissed her. Together, they slipped underneath the sheet, rain still falling, and found passion had not waned but recharged.
A/N: More to come...real life happens and slows writing sometimes so hang out, enjoy summer, and another chapter will come your way! Reviews appreciated!