Chapter Twenty-One

By the time Sara pulled in front of Greg's apartment, she and Grissom could hear him snoring vigorously in the back seat. Grissom pulled him from the car, and when he opened his eyes he looked at the older man as if he had no idea whom he was. When Sara reached them, she held onto his other arm.

"Sara! Where are we?" Greg asked, then glanced around the street. They guided him to the correct door, then Grissom pulled his keys from his jacket pocket. "How'd we get here so fast?"

"It was a magic carpet ride," Grissom mumbled as he unlocked the door and walked into his living room.

"Would that make me, Aladin?" Greg smiled. "And would that make Sara–Jasmine?"

"If you say so, Greg," Sara said as she moved to find his bedroom, then went inside and pulled his blanket back, waiting for him to get there.

"Aladin," he corrected as he sat on the edge of the mattress.

"If you're Aladin, and I'm Jasmine–then who does that make Grissom?" Sara asked as she pulled off his jacket and Grissom removed the young man's shoes.

"That's easy–Jafar!" Greg chuckled as he crashed back onto his pillows and pulled his legs up, watching as Sara tossed the blanket back over him. "Because Aladin gets the girl in the end. Jafar just stands in the background ogles the girl."

"You're really up on your Disney characters, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am."

"Get some sleep, Greg," Sara soothed as she started out of the room.

Grissom followed her, but stopped just shy of the doorway and looked back at the man on the bed. "Greg?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm not Jafar–just keep that in mind."

"I know that. I know who gets the girl in the end."

"Goodnight, Greg."

"Goodnight, Aladin."

Sara waited at the front door and watched Grissom approach her. She could see that look in his eyes again and as usual, her stomach fluttered madly.

"Come on, Al. We've deposited all of our passengers. Now it's time for us to head back for your car."

"Do you think he really knows about us?" Grissom asked, shutting Greg's front door and putting his arm around Sara's waist as they walked.

"I don't know," she chuckled. "I'd bet that by morning, he won't even remember how he got home, so, I doubt he'll remember anything about us."

When they got to Sara's car, Grissom paused and looked at her a moment. "How tired are you?"

"Not too bad," she answered. "Why?"

"Do you mind if I drive back?"

"No. Go ahead."

He walked her to the passenger's side and opened the door for her, then went to the driver's side and got behind the wheel. She leaned back in her seat and turned slightly to watch him. She loved watching him–especially when he was aware of it, because he wore the cutest, little-boy-embarrassed expression and it charmed her completely. Tonight, he must have known she was watching as he glanced over and gave her the embarrassed little smile she expected, then reached for her thigh where he rested his hand. She moaned as she leaned back farther in her seat, making him glance at her again and laugh.

"All that just from touching you leg? What can I expect when I get you in bed tonight?"

"This morning, you mean, don't you?" She slid her fingers over his, loving the shape and texture of them.

He merely smiled again and turned his hand so he could entwine his fingers with hers. It was nearly a half hour before he pulled into the parking lot next to his car, but when she got out and started to come around to the driver's side, he put his arms around her waist and stopped her.

"No." He smiled gently, almost shyly. "Not yet. I want to go back inside."

"Okay," she said slowly and took his hand as they walked to the entrance.

Once inside, he ordered them each a soda, then he went to the jukebox. The crowd (if you could call it that, as it was only about half-occupied earlier in the evening) had mostly gone for the night. The only people left were a trio of men playing pool, and an older couple sitting at a table. Sara watched as Grissom inserted a bill, then came back to her as Bryan Adams "Heaven" began to play.

"I hope you still have a few dances left in you." He kneeled in front of her, surprising her as he unstrapped her sandals and slid them off her feet. He put them on a bar stool as he stood erect, then took her hand and pulled her into his arms. "My solution to new shoes that hurt. I don't want any reason for you "not" to dance with me, because I've been waiting all night for this."

She reached up and touched his cheek, stroked it lightly, then leaned her head on his shoulder as he held her close. They didn't need to talk as Aerosmith's "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing" played, followed by Eric Clapton's "Wonderful Tonight." By the time Celine Dion's "It's All Coming Back to Me Now" played, their movements on the dance floor had diminished to simply swaying together as their lips would occasionally meet. They held onto one another as if never wanting to let go, and it occurred to Sara that she had never felt safer in her life.

When the music ended, she looked at him, seeing his half-lidded blue eyes watching her and her breath caught in her throat. His crooked smile made her grasp onto his shirt to steady herself. She wondered if he realized the power he had over her.

"I think the music stopped," she managed to get out.

"So it did." He stood still, then walked with her until she was sitting on a bar stool. He slid her shoes back on and they walked toward the exit and then to their cars. "Come to my place. It isn't as far."

She nodded her head and got inside her vehicle, then followed him to his apartment. He met her in front of their cars, neither seeming to be in a huge hurry as he took her hand although they walked directly to his bedroom. She watched as he adjusted the lights then turned to look at her. His eyes showed pure determination as he walked to her and held onto the back of her head and neck as he met her with a smoldering kiss. He pulled back and looked at her.

"First of all, I want to thank you for putting up with all the insanity that was taking place around us tonight."

"I don't know that I was "putting up" with it quite so well for the first part of the night." She rested her hands on his waist, sliding them up beneath his shirt to touch bare skin. "You have to admit–when dealing with Sophia, I can't help but feel I'm not only coming in second place, but more like I'm bringing up the rear."

"There's no reason for you to ever doubt yourself when it comes to Sophia. You've got a beauty that radiates from you–even knee-deep in human stew, I can look at you and want to yank your coveralls off, tip you over, then have my way with you."

Sara chuckled as she looked at him. "Knee-deep in human stew, huh? I think you're getting much to attached to your job, Griss. Now you're fantasizing about doing it in a pool of human remains."

"I'm not that perverse. . .yet." He walked her back to the bed and nudged her to sit on the edge of the mattress where he knelt before her and took her shoes off again. He rubbed at the reddened areas where the sandal had irritated her foot. "You really shouldn't wear shoes like this if they hurt your feet."

"I somehow didn't think my work-boots would compliment my skirt," she said, then chuckled as he lifted her foot higher and she had to lean back on her elbows so she wouldn't topple over.

"Then we'll just have to do something about that skirt." He slid his hand up her leg until it went underneath the leather and brushed against the lace of her panties, eliciting a quick catch of her breath before moving to the outside of the skirt and unhooking and unzipping it,

She leaned back and lifted her hips as he tugged it down, then watched as he stood up and placed it neatly on his dresser. He turned slowly and looked down at her, letting his gaze roam from her tattooed ankle, up over her legs, pausing at the black lace of her panties, then stopping at the bit of abdomen that was revealed beneath her blouse. He made a gesture with his hands and she knew what he wanted, so she pulled the offensive cloth over her head and handed it to him, leaving her in nothing but matching bra and panties. He seemed mesmerized as he looked at her, until finally his eyes moved up to meet hers. She got up and put her hands to the back of his neck, feeling the texture of that glorious curly hair. He lifted the edge of his shirt and Sara helped pull it over his head as he toed off his shoes and stood in just his jeans and socks. She couldn't seem to take her eyes off of his chest with the salt and pepper hair sprinkled over it. It called to her, beckoned her to reach out and touch it, and she couldn't deny its magnetism any longer. Her fingertips traced his chest muscles before she leaned forward and placed her lips on his nipple, flicking her tongue over it and eliciting a groan from him as he placed his hands on the back of her head.

She took her pleasure in feeling his skin; his chest; his stomach, and then she moved on to his jeans that she unbuttoned and unzipped. He pulled her head back up so that he could press his mouth against hers, moaning his need as he licked and sucked her lips and tongue. She pushed his jeans and boxers over his hips, allowing her hands to run over his firm backside in the process. She didn't really know how or exactly when he had disposed of her bra and panties, but it had to be somewhere between having his jeans pooled at his feet, and his lying on top of her on the bed; both completely without clothing.

They moved slowly, savoring each touch, each breath, each beat of the other's heart until their need took them in search of their ultimate goal, and when they recovered from that heady climax, they moved toward another, and then another, before exhaustion overtook them.

Their cells went off at the same time, pulling the couple out of a deep slumber as they blindly reached for the offending objects on Grissom's bedside table. Grissom turned toward the left side of the bed, as Sara turned to the right, each keeping their voices low so the other parties couldn't hear them.

"Grissom."

"Sidle."

"Grissom?" Greg's voice was slightly surprised before he went on. "I was calling Sara. Do you know where she is?"

"Greg–why would I know where she's at?" Grissom grumbled as he ran his hand over his eyes, trying to focus on his surroundings through the blinding sunlight.

"Right," Greg snorted. "Maybe because you answered her phone. I was calling for a ride to pick up my car. So if you "happen" to see her anywhere close by–could you ask her to take me for it?"

"I'll take you. When do you need it?"

"About half an hour ago," Greg told him. "I have errands to run and I wanted to get a head-start. But–if you're otherwise occupied. . ."

"I'll be there in about an hour and a half."

"An hour and a half? Never mind–I'll call a cab."

"You'll call a cab," Grissom said with disbelief.

"Yeah–I'm not waiting around for you to get out of bed. The day's starting and it's beautiful outside!"

"Greg–is there some reason you wanted to disturb me from a deep sleep with a phone call that was totally pointless?"

"I wasn't calling you. I was calling Sara."

"You "got" me!"

"Fine," Greg said. "Jeez–Sara wouldn't have been so grumpy."

"Goodbye, Greg."

"Yeah–yeah," he mumbled then hung up.

"Sara?" Nick's voice showed his confusion. "I must have pressed the wrong button. I was trying to call Grissom."

"Oh!" Sara's eyes widened when she realized she had picked up the wrong phone. "Well, that's okay. Is there a problem? Is there anything I can do?"

"Not really–I was just calling to see if he needed a ride back to the bar for his car. Warrick said you drove him home, so I thought that since we were heading over for mine, we could pick him up and take him along."

"Uhh–no, there's no need. He insisted I take him back for his car after we dropped Greg and Sophia off."

"And you let him drive in that condition?"

"He seemed to have sobered up enough by then–and I followed him home to make sure he made it. But we didn't get back to his place until late."

Nick chuckled. "He's probably still sleeping. He probably didn't get in until around two or three."

"Umm, probably not," she agreed, knowing that they, in fact, didn't get in until four o'clock and didn't get to sleep until nearly seven. "I didn't get home until late, either. So, if it's alright, I'll talk to you at work. Okay?"

"Sure–sure. Get some sleep! Oh–and again, I had a great time last night! I hope we can go out again some time soon."

"Sounds good, I'll let you know the next time I'm off."

"Okay. See ya later tonight, kiddo."

Sara turned and listened to the end of Grissom's conversation with Greg and when he turned to look at her, she held the cell phone out to him and shrugged her shoulders.

"Who was that?" Grissom took the phone and put it on his night stand, then handed her the other phone, which she put on the table on her side of the bed.

"Nick. He wanted to stop by and take you back to pick up your car."

"Right now?"

"Evidently. But I explained that you decided to pick up your car and drive it home yourself." Sara watched as Grissom reached over and slowly pulled the sheet down to uncover her breasts. "So, do I get to find out what Greg wanted?"

"He wanted you to drive him back to pick up his car, too." Grissom lifted himself until he was leaning on his elbow, then slid his hand along her arm, then back up again and down to her breast. "I told him I'd be there in about an hour and a half–but he wanted to get there sooner. He's calling a cab."

"I see." Sara turned more toward him and put her hand over his, bringing it up to kiss his fingers. "So, how did you explain answering my cell?"

"I didn't." Grissom's breath quickened as she slid the tip of his forefinger between her lips, then added his middle finger. "I didn't give him any answer. How about you?"

She removed his fingertips long enough to answer. "He took it for granted that he dialed the wrong number by accident."

"I see." He leaned over and replaced his fingers with his mouth, letting her tongue dart out and slide over his lips. "It's a good thing it was Greg and Nick who called. If it was Catherine or Warrick, they'd be over here by now, wanting to know the real story."

"Mmmm, and we wouldn't want that, would we?" She put her arms around his neck as he rolled over top of her.

a/n–Just a little treat for you. (Please note, that Lady Heather is on the cover of this–by it is definitely a GSR feature!) Let me know what you think. If you'd like, put the following together and it will take you on a little holiday with our fascinating couple.

www.

dailymotion.

com/user/

dotnhanx/

video/x9o4j4_coming-back-to-sara0001_shortfilms

Oh–another quick note–I'm going in for a root canal later today, so it may take a day or two for the next chapter to get written.