A/N: Here's the last chapter! Enjoy! And if you review, we might write a Christmas story!

How Sweet It Is

Chapter 10

Grissom knew his wife had a drawer filled with colorful lace, silk, and cotton panties; she usually wore the cotton ones. He knew she had dozens of colors and every style made because he had purchased most of them. But what was between his fingers was new—a slim silky band with a rough outer surface—small stones covered the waistband.

"This is new," he growled, his voice husky with unmitigated lust. Sara knew his weakness—discovery of something new, especially when the 'something' covered her butt. Or, in this case, did not cover very much of her.

She pushed away from his chest; a smile spread across her face. "Surprise!" She whispered, a giggle bubbling around the word. Her hips pressed against his. "I decided to give you a gift before you left."

He placed both of his hands on her hips and pushed her pants down, quietly laughing as he did. Swiftly, he moved down in the bed pulling her pants off and tossing them over his head. Sara rolled onto her back as his hands moved up her bare legs. She heard a soft chuckle.

"Rhinestones? And a bow!" His fingers went underneath the bright pink fabric. His mouth touched the small triangle covering her intimate cradle. His hands slipped around to her butt. He groaned. Desire rolled through him, heating his blood, burning from brain to groin. Gliding his fingers along her cleft, he stoked her until her hands gripped his hair and her hips lifted off the bed; until she was wet and aching. He ran his fingers over her folds, separating them, stroking softly, slowly, then firmly, fast, until she knew her orgasm was coming from the touch of his fingers alone. Gently, he parted her, swirling his finger over the blooming button of her sex until her entire body flushed. With tender touches, he played and explored, knowing by the trembling muscles she was on the cusp of climax.

And then her fingers found him—caressing his erection that was straining against the fabric of his pants. She freed him and closed her hand around his penis. He groaned, knowing he had to stop her before he was pushed over the edge.

Carefully, he extradited himself from her hold, removed his pants and shirt, and, unabashedly, rose onto his knees, proudly showing off his erection, like a flag pole on a parade ground, before he bent over sparkling rhinestones.

He said, "What a surprise you are!" before he took the edge of the panties between his teeth. His mouth remained on her as his hands slipped the panties to her ankles. Kissing her where no one else had ever kissed her before caused her to gasp as an avalanche of pleasure rushed through her.

She made a noise—a moan—trying to say she would explode if he didn't get inside her—when he moved and entered her with one thrust. His movement was quick and everything she wanted. He pulled out and moved forward again, fast, several times as her body tightened. She helped, her ankles hooked tight around his hips, her heels pressing against him as he sank into her.

Sara lost track of time—everything but the pleasure of being with her husband. He lowered his face to hers and kissed her as his hands kneaded her butt, his rhythm never interrupted. Her strong contractions pulled him to the brink. His fullness increased; he cried out as the heat of ejaculation rushed from him. Her heels pushed against his lower back at exactly the perfect time, locking him as deep as he could go inside her while her sex clamped around him like a vise.

The sensation caused Sara's entire body to react until tremors shot through her, spiraling higher and higher until her climax shattered all thoughts and she fell, floating to earth, and into the warm comfort of his arms. She was still quivering—small climaxes—when Grissom took a firm grip on her hips and stroked gently out and in. His erection was mostly hard and the wetness, the increased warmth of her interior gave him an unexpected energy. Slowly, he stroked again. By her response, he knew the movement felt good to her as well.

"We can do it again, you know," he said with a chuckle.

He started slowly, caressing, kissing, fondling his wife's body before he gently rolled her over on her belly. His hands massaged her back from shoulder to hip. When he stretched to reach her shoulders, Sara could feel his erection slide from her butt up her spine—a sensation that was surprisingly erotic. Positioning her hips so she was open to him, he pressed his penis between her legs and reached her hot wet core. Reaching around her body, his fingers found her clit and began a gentle massage. She gasped—moaned—as he pushed himself inside, filling her, taking her breath away.

Her hips responded to his thrusts by pushing back; his balls tingled her skin as he kept thrusting, never slowing, building his erection as he filled her. Sara lost control, certain nothing existed but the bed and the man making himself a part of her. Fire seemed to ignite where they joined, melting skin and tissue until they were one. Her hands grabbed the pillow and twisted into knots.

Grissom caressed her hair, her breasts, turning her head so he could kiss her as he pressed her down onto the bed. When she moaned again, he said, "I like making you moan." He laughed and finally withdrew from her, rolling away from her back as she turned.

Sara smiled at the feel of his hands caressing her body. He kissed her and then wrapped arms around her and pulled her against him.

He had always maintained control of his emotions until this woman had shaken his control and moved him beyond his self-imposed loneliness. He stroked her hair as she nestled closer to his shoulder, knowing he could make love to her forever and not get enough of her. As her eyes closed, he knew he was completely happy by his need for her.

Before he closed his eyes, he made a decision. He was chasing rainbows around the world when the true love of his life was here in flesh and blood with Sara, in the heat of her love, in the gold shining in her eyes, in the place they had made their home. He kissed her temple; he knew she could never voice an objection to his long distance work yet today, the glimpse of her despair and sadness had been obvious. He did not have to leave her—not for weeks at a time. He would complete this trip in five days and when he returned, he vowed he would not leave her again.

Gently shifting to his side, he nuzzled his nose into Sara's hair and inhaled, tasted her faintly citrus scent—always reminding him of sunny days. He positioned his leg over hers, possessively, protectively; his eyes blurred with fatigue and sexual contentment and he slept.

The vibration of her phone against wood brought Sara out of sleep. It took a few seconds for her return to real time; Grissom's arm wrapped tightly around her, his leg across hers, his chest pressed against her back, the tenderness between her legs—flooded her brain with what they had recently done. She smiled.

Sex with her husband, she thought, was always great—so much better than all her exaggerated dreams from years ago. Her phone kept tapping the top of the bedside table. She reached out and checked the caller—work and her supervisor. Her phone beeped with a message.

D.B. knew Grissom was leaving today—he would not call unless it was important. She pressed to listen to his message. And even though she tried to be quiet, she did not succeed. Her slight movement caused Grissom to stir.

She curled into his arms, turning to face him. To the depths of her soul, she knew she had been born for him, to be held and caressed and cherished by this man.

"Do you need to go?"

She kissed him. "D.B. left a message." She wanted this feeling—the warmth, the intimacy—to last for hours instead of a few minutes. "The young bank teller came in." Sara sighed. "So far—nothing—she—she's not satisfied with any of the faces—she says she doesn't remember enough about the two men's faces."

"Sometimes dough rises slowly," Grissom said.

Sara laughed, then groaned at his strained metaphor and realized he was probably right. "D.B. and Ecklie want to put the case on hold because nothing has moved it forward."

She rolled onto her back. "What do you think?"

Grissom's hand rested on her belly; his chin on her shoulder. "Someone came into the bank—that's the only time we have when his money was exposed. Joe probably dropped the small book—we didn't find it or the briefcase—and who knows what he had written in the book. Maybe—probably—his name, address, notes about his money. Whoever picked it up followed him—checked out his address, walked up there in the night and killed them for the money." His hand moved to her chin; his fingers caressed her, gently stroked her face with one finger.

He said, "You'll find something. Don't let it get to you."

Sara kissed his finger as it traced across her lips. "I won't—I don't do that anymore," she chuckled. "Not as much as I once did."

They remained together for several long moments until Grissom kissed her. "I need to finish packing."

"I'll help."

Later, Sara went to work where four new cases were waiting for assignment. She and Greg headed out to a home invasion. Hours later, drinking coffee in the break room, Sara told Greg the details of the Sullivan murders.

"Have you thought about trying to reconstruct the scene—at the bank?" Greg asked.

In minutes, Sara was on the phone and in a few hours, before the bank opened for business, Amy Woods took her place behind the teller's window. Greg played the role of Joe Sullivan while Nick and D.B. played the two men who came in with a bag of change. Morgan stood in for the teller who took the change. Twice Amy Woods remembered a detail that did not seem right, having D.B. turn to look out the door and closing blinds on one window to replicate the lighting as she remembered.

"He could watch old Joe go to his car from here," D.B. said as he pointed to the small parking lot.

Afterwards, they had no new information. They were stuck, Sara realized, a standstill that needed a break. For most of the shift, she worked on the home invasion case finally leaving when she knew she was so exhausted she would sleep without thinking.

Grissom had called when he landed in Houston, Texas, and again when he landed in Columbia. Sara knew she could sleep as she pulled his pillow to her chest. Hank curled around her feet.

Her life was routine, predictable, and somewhat boring without Grissom, she thought. While he was gone, she ate, walked the dog, went to work, slept. She hugged his pillow tighter.

Her phone woke her up and by the light from the windows, she knew it was mid-morning. It was Amy Woods. Her voice was barely a whisper.

"They've come back! Get over here in a hurry!"

Sara dialed Brass who said patrol cars were on the way as he spoke. Someone had pressed the bank's alarm. Sara dressed as fast as possible, but by the time the first car arrived, the men had disappeared without doing any business at the bank.

"They were looking around!" Amy said for the third time to Jim Brass as Sara entered the bank. The girl seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when she saw Sara. "Do you think you'll catch them now?"

"Yes," said Sara. "This time we have the bank's video."

The tape showed two men who came into the bank, glanced at the line, one shook his head, and both left.

D.B. and Brass called everyone in. Greg had printed the doors at the bank but found only smudges and smears on the handles.

D.B. threw out the first question, "Why did they go back to the same small bank?"

"First, they live in the vicinity," Morgan said. "And, second—they made a lucky catch."

"And today, the bank was full of people—no one was old in line," Sara said as they watched the tape again.

Brass nodded at the screen. "These men are dangerous. If they are already looking for more victims…"

"If they are the ones," Sara said. "We don't know that yet."

Ecklie was standing at the door. "We'll release photographs—say they are 'persons of interest'—try to get something going."

Sara called Grissom and shared the news with him. "You'll find them," he assured her. "Someone will recognize them—especially if they have been spending a lot of money."

The next afternoon, a caller identified the two men as venders of a stall at a large flea market in North Las Vegas.

"I know the place," Brass said as he headed out. "Ride with me, Sara. That place is open today." He radioed for deputies to meet him.

There was already a throng of people at the flea market so Brass sent the deputies in several directions and instructed Sara to follow him.

"I don't want you in danger."

Sara and Brass saw the two men at the same moment. They were standing behind a table covered with brightly colored purses and bags. A sign announced the price—cheap. A few seconds ticked by before the men recognized they were under scrutiny, not only by Brass and Sara but two deputies who had walked up.

Suddenly, everything seemed to happen at once. One of the men pulled a gun from under the table and took two quick shots. One thudded into a sign post near Sara; she ducked. One of the deputies fired and the shooter yelled as he grabbed his shoulder. His gun flew out of his hand. The deputy lunged at the table, which broke in two, and the two men landed in a jumble of purses.

"Go after the other guy," Brass yelled at the second deputy. Sara took off with him running as they both tried to find the runner in the crowd. People pulled away as they ran. Sara thought the man had managed to disappear when she saw him heading toward the western edge of the market.

"He's here," she shouted. She clicked her phone and immediately got Brass. "West side," she panted.

Sara was ahead of the deputy as she cleared the market and arrived at the parking lot. She could see the guy running twenty yards ahead of her. Pounding feet of the deputy were close behind so she ran, lost sight of the runner as he ducked behind a van and a couple of trucks and then saw him again as he ran along a tall chain fence.

As quickly as the chase had started, it was over. The man was cornered; the deputy had managed to get to the fence from another direction. Then Sara noticed the man had a knife; that's the knife he used on the Sullivan's, Sara thought.

Early in the afternoon, Don Luther, the man who had pulled the gun, confessed that they had committed the murders, blaming it all on the other man. When confronted with the confession, the second suspect, Bob Mansfield, blamed the violence on his partner.

Everything had happened as Sara had thought. The two men had gone into the bank with a bag of coins. Joe Sullivan had dropped his small book as he had exited the bank. They had followed him around town, had followed him to his farm, gone back several times to check for dogs and security alarms and found none.

"The old man wouldn't tell us where he had hidden the money—not until his old lady was dead," Bob Mansfield said. "It was in the barn—in the hay."

"Why the knot?" Sara asked. "On the woman."

The man looked confused for a few seconds and then shrugged. "Don did that."

When she asked the same question to the other man, his answer was "Bob did that." Neither wanted to admit to being behind the insane violence against an old woman. Neither man could tell them how much money was in the brief case; they had spent it with such wanton recklessness they had little to show—expensive watches on their wrist, call girls, a night of gambling—and they had gone out searching for another victim.

Sara related all of this to Grissom. They discussed what they had found and collected as evidence when the teller had held the key.

"You kept at it," said Grissom. "You did not give up. That's the important thing."

They continued talking until it was time for him to go to his conference. He said, "Its beautiful here, Sara. There was a rainbow over the city today."

"Ahh—" she laughed. "Did you go searching for the gold at the end of the rainbow?"

His voice deepened, "My gold isn't at the end of a rainbow, dear. It's in Vegas." His soft laugh warmed Sara's soul. He continued, "I'll see you soon."

She pulled his pillow to her chest. "I love you, Gil."

"You know I love you. I'll be home soon."

A/N: and this concludes this one! We appreciate hearing from you-so take a minute and send a review! Thanks!