Grissom opened the passenger-side car door and Sara slid in gracefully. It was only when he got behind the wheel that he realized he didn't know where they were going; a consequence of their bodies being way ahead of their minds at the moment.
"Um, Sara? Where are we going?"
"How about my place? You've never really seen it."
"Great," he replied, wondering how much there really was to see.
When Grissom started the car, classical music filled the air. It was light and gentle, much like how the evening had been so far. Neither said a word, each worried that anything uttered may break this spell and end the night prematurely. Instead they both listened to the strings and horns intertwine, and Sara softly placed her left hand on Grissom's right thigh.
The move sent a shock through his body and Grissom somewhat wide-eyed turned to see Sara wink at him mischievously.
Greenlightsgreenlightsgreenlights he prayed to himself, trying to concentrate on the traffic and the road.
Amazingly, the car and couple returned to Sara's apartment in one piece. Sara worked the locks on her door and walked into the entryway turning on lights. The moment she heard Grissom close the door behind her, she spun around, extended her right hand and crooked her index finger, motioning him to come hither. Leaning against the wall, Sara raised an eyebrow as he strode toward her with a wolfish grin on his face.
Grissom gently held her face in his hands as their lips met, then traced them down her sculpted shoulders in parallel paths. They continued their journey as they rounded her hips and rested low on her back. Sara was busy, herself, her hands drawn toward those luscious curls like magnets. Quickly the kiss deepened and the pair was body-to-body up against the wall, the sounds of lips meeting, quiet moans escaping and short pants filling the silence.
Sara reluctantly pulled her hands from Grissom's hair and tucked them under his suit coat in an attempt to get him to shed it. He got the hint; she could feel his lips part in a smile as he shrugged his shoulders so Sara's hands could push the coat over his shoulders. It had barely landed with on the ground when Grissom kicked it back toward the door and away from the action. At the same time he was furiously working on escaping his tie, all the while never removing his lips from Sara's. Sara, who had the advantage with two free hands, was busy running her hands up and down the front of Grissom's shirt, somewhat impeding his progress on the tie. But soon it joined the suit coat on the floor a few feet away and Grissom decided to extract revenge. His hands free again, he softly grabbed Sara's wrists and extended them above her head and against the wall.
This time it was Sara's turn to smile as she realized she was at a tactical disadvantage. Grissom's lips headed for the sweet spot where her neck met her shoulders, gently nuzzling the flesh as she sighed loudly.
Sara Sidle had heard the cliché "Weak at the knees" before, but had never experienced it until Gil Grissom had her pinned against the wall in her foyer in a grinding, hungry embrace. The emotions and physical sensations held at bay for years had come crashing through like water cascading through a busted dam. She felt dizzy, lightheaded and unsure on her feet, especially in those heels.
"Gris..." she started, trying to catch her breath. "I…we…."
Grissom stopped sucking on her neck and looked up at her shocked, those blue eyes wild. Surely this is where she tells me this is a mistake and we should stop, he thought automatically.
"Let's take this to the couch," she said softly with a smile. "You're making me lightheaded."
Relief rushed through Grissom's body like a flash flood through the desert. He slowly moved toward her and in one quick move, scooped her up in his arms like she was a new bride.
He lowered them to the couch, Sara seated perpendicular to him on his lap. She wasn't getting the access to his face that she wanted, so she hiked her dress up just enough so she could straddle his legs and continue where they left off. Soon they were right back where they started, except this time they were pinned to each other horizontally on the couch, not vertically against the wall.
Still fully clothed they were physically nearing the point of no return when it was Grissom's turn to hit the brakes.
"Sara," he said, pulling his lips off her collarbone. The tone of his voice, though ragged, was no-nonsense, one she heard countless times on the job. Now it was her turn to worry. Her dark brown eyes searched his for a clue.
Grissom pulled himself off her lean body and he sat up on the coach, pulling her to a similar position.
Holding her hands in his, he started: "Sara, honey, maybe we should wait."
Sara warmed at the term of endearment but didn't know what to make of the rest of the sentence.
"Why?"
Grissom took a deep breath and locked his eyes with hers.
"Because I love you. And I don't want you to think – even for a minute – that tonight was a ploy to get you into bed or placate you for my recent behavior. I don't want you to think this is just a one-night-stand. I respect you too much – I love you too much – for that."
Sara's expressive eyes were wide with comprehension. For the second time today she couldn't believe what she had heard. Words failed her, her lips were parted slightly in shock.
"Sara?"
She chuckled and dropped her head to look at their intertwined fingers. When she raised her head Grissom noticed her eyes filling with tears.
Evenly and quietly she spoke: "That is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me." The words caught in her throat hear the end of her sentence and small sobs wracked her thin frame. Sara released Grissom's hands and placed her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.
"Those are tears of joy, right?" he asked, smiling over her shoulder.
Sara placed her lips next to his left ear and her breath was warm on his face. "Gil Grissom," she began, her use of his first name sounding strange to both of them, "I am hopelessly and utterly in love with you."
Grissom pulled back from their embrace and smiled the widest smile she had ever seen. She returned in kind, the small gap between her teeth causing Grissom's heart to skip. Their lips met in a chaste kiss and the newfound couple held each other until their emotions subsided.
Sara was the first to break the silence.
"So, if you won't sleep with me tonight, will you just sleep with me?"
Grissom's brows furrowed, trying to figure out where she was going.
"Just sleep. With me. In my bed. Pajamas on," she explained, then felt the need to go further. "It's just…this night has been so amazing, I'm worried you're going to turn into a pumpkin at midnight or leave and get selective amnesia and this will all be a dream."
"Tonight the only thing I'm going to turn into is your bed," he said with a mischievous smile.
Sara rose from the couch, and grabbing both his hands, pulled him up to join her. Refusing to let go of his hands she walked backwards, leading him into her bedroom. A queen-sized bed sat near the far wall, looking terribly inviting.
"I have sweatpants and a T-shirt my brother left here on his last visit, if you want," she said.
"That would be great."
Sara rummaged around in her closet, pulling out two sets of clothes. One she handed to Grissom, the other she tucked under her arm.
"I'm gonna go change," she said, with a smile, hiking a thumb over her shoulder toward the bathroom.
Grissom grinned in return as she shut the door. Thank God. If I'm going to make good on his night of chastity, the last thing I need is seeing her undress.
He snapped himself out of his fantasy of what that would look like and got busy shedding his clothes and climbing into his makeshift pajamas – grey sweatpants and a navy T-shirt. Grissom hung his pants and shirt on a chair near the bed and sunk into the mattress, awed at what a lucky man he was.
Just then Sara knocked at the door twice.
"You decent?"
"You could say," Grissom replied slyly. Sara peeked her head around the door but had one hand over her eyes.
"Seriously, Gris. If you don't want us to…you know…get intimate tonight, you need to play fair."
"Sara, I'm decent. Trust me."
Since she trusted him more than anyone in the world, Sara opened her eyes and smiled at the sight of Gil Grissom sitting upright in her bed under the covers. A more inviting sight she had never witnessed.
As she crossed over to the other side of the bed, Grissom took note of her pajamas, a grey Harvard T-shirt and maroon sweatpants. Catching him checking her out, Sara replied matter-of-factly: "I know it's not sexy, but that's the point."
"There will be plenty of time for that later," Grissom replied in a low voice that nearly made her shiver in anticipation as she got under the covers and shut off the light on her nightstand.
Sara scooted over to tuck herself in the crook of Grissom's outstretched right arm and snuggled in tight. Placing her right hand across her chest, she breathed in his scent, silently marveling at the day's turn of events and feeling his chest expand and contract with each breath.
"Gris?"
"Yes?"
"So if you didn't want us to have sex tonight, would you consider ravaging me tomorrow morning?" she teased.
Grissom chuckled out loud, surprising himself with the loud sound in the dark room. Gently he took Sara's hand from his chest and moved it up to his heart, covering it with his own.
"Oh, you can count on it."
~ The End