Chapter Thirty-Six
Sara woke up to the sensation of being stroked. She was in a familiar position on her back, with Grissom's head resting on her chest, just beneath her breasts, as he held onto her waist, gently stroking his fingers over the sensitive skin at her side. She tried to gather her thoughts and at the moment they were so scattered and bruised that she didn't know where to begin.
The change in her breathing and posture must have alerted him that she was awake, because he turned his head and kissed her stomach, then moved up on the bed until he was lying next to her, looking into her eyes as she turned to face him. His hand returned to her waist where he continued stroking her. She had a hard time looking at him when he watched her like this. His expression was so intense that it shook her to the core; it made her confused over everything she had believed over the past three weeks. When he looked at her like this, she used to feel like she was the most beautiful woman in the universe; now she felt second-rate, and she didn't know how to overcome the insecurities that were implanted so successfully by that woman.
"Hey," he whispered as he lifted his hand to her chin and turned her gaze back to him. "Where are you going?"
"I'm right here," she said with a forced smile.
"Your mind is wandering"
She continued to smile at him as she pulled the sheet up from her waist. He had evidently covered them with it while she slept because she didn't remember having time to get beneath it as they made love–had sex. Her mind tumbled the two phrases over in her mind as she dropped her eyes away from his, but he tilted her chin again until she looked back at him.
"Really?" She asked.
"Well, by this time, if you weren't awake before me, you would wake up and start doing this. . ."
He leaned closer and kissed her very gently but let it linger as he pulled her closer to him. He grunted with irritation when the sheet was in his way, so he tugged it back down so their chests were touching. He nibbled on her lips and slid his tongue over them, but didn't try to deepen the kiss, ending it as he leaned back to look at her. She tried to smile again.
"I guess I'm still kind of tired. Not quite with it yet, ya know."
He simply looked at her, letting "that" expression cover his face and alerting her that he wanted much more than a simple kiss. She self-consciously pulled the sheet back up as she tucked it beneath her arm, not being able to stop herself and knowing he was not pleased with her actions. He turned and got off the bed, then finally removed the pants that he had slept in, as well as had sex–made love–to her in. He didn't bother keeping his boxer/briefs on as he pulled the sheet back and got in beneath it. He turned to her and she couldn't stop her first instinct of actually backing away from him about an inch. He studied her for a moment, then turned onto his back.
"Come here," he suggested, and she inched her way back closer to him. "No. I mean, up here."
He held up the sheet until she moved her body on top of his, then he dropped the cloth around them. He continued to watch her until she put her hands together on his chest, then lay her head on top of them, looking at the doorway to the bathroom. He didn't say anything else for a long time, simply slid his hands onto her back where he gently slid them along its length. She could feel the semi-hardness of him against her thigh, but still, he didn't try to push her any farther. He allowed her to just lie there, listening to his heartbeat beneath her head, feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath as he massaged her skin so tenderly that she wasn't sure if it was actually his hands or a wisp of wind, allowing the tension to leave her mind as well as her body. She slowly moved farther up on him until she could rub her temple against his bearded cheek, like a kitten who wanted to be petted and adored. And he complied as he ran his hand over the length of her hair, stroking it as she slowly slid her fingertips up his other arm, watching how they played on the muscles leading up to his shoulder. The more he stroked her hair, the closer her mouth came to his as she sought the affection he was willing to give her. She touched his lips with hers, giving little butterfly kisses until she needed more. Her gentle nibbling and quick flicks of her tongue was increasing her need of him. He remained somewhat passive as he allowed her to take this at her own pace. She could hear him fighting to keep his sounds of need inside as he continued to grow against her legs, and she was beginning to feel less awkward. Her courage grew as she finally slid her tongue inside his mouth and he released a sound so low that it resembled a growl.
She lifted her head and looked down at him, seeing what looked to be close to physical pain in his eyes. She ran her finger over his cheek, then went back to his mouth, dipping her tongue inside and inviting him to do the same. When he returned her kiss, his expertise quickly made her forget why she was apprehensive to begin with. She brought both hands up to capture his face as she kissed him deeply; so deeply that she felt it clear to her toes. She didn't realize she had spread her legs around his body and was now squirming against his abdomen as his rock hard penis pressed up between them, until he pulled his head back from her with a gasp, and rolled her off of him as he moved away.
"I can't do this," he breathed as he looked over at her. "I wanted to. I tried to. I know you're having trouble with this. I know you need to take it at your own pace. I didn't want to push you until you were ready–but dammit! You're driving me crazy! I want you so goddamned much that it's killing me! So–if you're not ready yet, then I think I need to leave for awhile. I can go read the paper or watch the news or make us something to eat. How about that? Are you hungry?"
"You don't want to make love to me?" She asked as she lay with her head on the pillow, suddenly finding his discomfort not only amusing, but rather assuring.
"I don't want . . ." He ran his hand over his beard in frustration. "Of course I want to! It's all I've wanted to do for the last three weeks! Jesus Christ–I had to leave and go spend three days in a dingy old motel and get drunk every night just so I could sleep without having you with me. And you–I come back and find out that you're taking it so well that you go on a holiday to the beach! You're driving me nuts!"
"I didn't go to the beach," she chuckled. "Who told you that?"
"I heard Greg telling Nick. He said you called and told him you were visiting friends in California and was getting sunburned. And you were–you did. I couldn't take my off of the way your face seemed to glow from the sun you'd taken in."
"The little liar," she laughed again. "I was right here in Vegas. I just went to the pool everyday, and lay in the sun."
"You were home?" He stared at her in disbelief.
"Yes. Why?"
"Because I went to your apartment to find you–then overhead Greg talking about the beach."
"Well–I was home at night." She moved back over toward him, but he backed away. "Are you playing hard to get, now?"
"No," he told her. "I just can't take anymore . . .foreplay."
She smiled at him again, loving how he was fighting his itch, that by looking at the tent under the sheet, needed scratched very badly. This time when she leaned toward him, she placed her hand on his chest and ran it down to his stomach, quickly coming in contact with the searing heat of his member. Her fingers wrapped around his massive size and she gave him a squeeze as her lips were only a millimeter from his.
"I'm tired of foreplay right now, anyway."
He groaned as he turned to her and rolled her onto her back, taking her mouth in hunger as he slid between thighs that were already open, waiting for him to come to her. She positioned him at her entrance and with a quick thrust he was inside of her and she had to throw her head back to catch her breath from the intrusion into her body. It was always like this–and she wondered if it always would be. She wanted to touch him–touch his hair–touch his beard–touch his lips; those perfectly shaped lips. Hell, she even wanted to touch his elegant nose. Her fingers brailled him as his kisses moved over her face.
"Good God, you can drive a man to his death. Do you have any idea what it was like all those days and nights, watching you work in front of me and not being able to touch you? I just wanted to touch you. I needed you here–with me–and nowhere else." He raised his head and looked at her even as they thrust against each other. "Don't you see it? Can't you understand how I feel about you?"
But before she could answer, he was kissing her again, and the thought surged through her head that perhaps he "did" love her and he "wouldn't" hurt her again. She gradually opened up to him like a flower in the morning sun, drinking in as much warmth as she was capable of. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he nuzzled her behind her ear.
"I love you, Griss," she sighed contentedly.
"Not Griss–not here," he breathed into her ear. "Now say it again."
She giggled as he tickled her ear with his tongue, then sighed again. "I love you, Gilbert."
"Ah, Sara, know that you hold my heart–don't let go."
Sara remained awake this time as she watched him sleep next to her. He told her, again and again, that he loved her. He swore to her that he'd never hurt her again. He told her it was all just a huge mistake and he'd never make such an error again. This time, she believed him as she lay with his arm over her chest and his leg over her thighs. Slowly, she managed to slide out from beneath him and get up from the bed. She went into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror seeing the usual signs of Grissom's vigorous lovemaking, but luckily it was contained to her chest area and not spread along her neck. She smiled shyly as she saw something else, something deeper that had grown during their last hours together. If she wasn't careful, she was going to fall in love with him all over again. She glanced into the bedroom and watched him sleep. God, he was so gorgeous as he slept; his face relaxed and peaceful. Well, she'd just have to risk falling in love with him again, she thought as she closed the door and started filling the tub with water.
She was in the water, letting the steam rise around her, when the door opened and Grissom walked in with his cell to his ear as he held hers down for her to answer.
"Sidle," Sara answered as Grissom walked back out of the bathroom so they wouldn't be heard on each other's phones.
"Hi, Sara. It's Judy. Mr. Ecklie asked me to call with an assignment. He says it's a VIP and the sooner you could get here to pick up the information, the better."
"I'll be right in, Judy. Thanks."
She got out of the tub and wrapped a towel around herself then went back to the bedroom where she found Grissom had put his pants back on and was just finishing his call with Ecklie. He turned around and looked at her as he flipped his phone shut. He took the two steps to get to her and put his arms around her as he smiled down into her eyes.
"What do you think about "me" getting a bigger tub?" He asked.
"You" want to start taking baths with me?" She smiled back at him. "I thought you didn't like it. You never got back in with me after that one time."
"I don't," he smirked. "You had the water too hot. I thought for sure that you were trying to ruin any chances of a next generation of Grissoms."
She couldn't stop the laugh that came out. "Why did you get in, if it was too hot?"
He shrugged his shoulders, then released her as he put a clean shirt on and grabbed a pair of socks. He bent to pick up his shoes, but paused when he came across her panties and bra that he had tossed to the floor, earlier.
"Sara? What's this?"
Sara looked at him and took the items in question. "Underclothing."
"I know that. It isn't what you usually wear–why the change?"
"Because," she said slowly as she went to the drawer she had used before the breakup, and pulled out a clean set of underclothing; blue satin–quite the opposite of what she had in her hands. "When you feel that you're not as appealing to your boyfriend as you thought you were–you get rid of clothing that made you think that way."
"You threw away all your underclothing because you thought I didn't like them?" He sat on the bed and pulled his socks on.
"It's complicated." She stepped into her panties, then put her bra on. "All you need to know is that I threw away a bag full of lace and satin–some of which were brand new and never worn."
"And this is all my fault?" He started putting his shoes on.
"Yes." She found a clean pair of jeans and pulled them on.
"And you won't tell me why."
"That's right." She zipped and buttoned the pants then reached for a blouse and jacket to go over it.
"So, what you're really saying is that if I want you to wear lace and satin–I have to go buy it for you to replace what you had."
"I never said that."
"But I will. When we're through with this case–we'll go shopping." He stood up and started out the door and she grabbed her shoes and followed him.
"You're going to go shopping for lingerie?" She sat on the sofa and put her shoes on.
"Sure." He picked up his keys then held the door for her. "It sounds like fun."
"Fine," Sara said with disbelief, but who was she to look a gift horse in the mouth? "What's this case all about, anyway? All Judy could tell me was that it's a VIP."
"Diane Chase was murdered at her son's wedding." He closed the door behind them.