A/N:  Thanks to Marlou, Geena and LSI for their help with editing this chapter.

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            Frustration.  That was the word that Grissom used to describe the following days.  He continued to sleep on the floor, or on the chaise lounge, although for some reason they still shared intimate moments.  Sara tried to indicate to him that there were 'other' ways but he refused to go down that path.  This was special to him as he suspected it was for her.  There was no way he was going to ruin it with a 'quick fix'.

            The day after he decided to sleep on the floor he realized how hard it was, the floor that is.  Still, he did manage to get some sleep.  Sara had a full day ahead of her.  Danielle, the Earl's sister, and Katherine, the Earl's fiancée arranged for a showing of clothing for Sara.  A dressmaker was brought in and as Grissom heard, Sara was pinned and poked for the better part of the afternoon.  Gowns had been selected, although he had yet to see any of them.  They'd been promised two gowns before the end of the night.  Sara would then have something else to wear for the next couple of days as her others were being made.

            He was growing impatient.  From what he'd seen of the way women dressed in these days, Sara was certain to come out looking beautiful.  She certainly wasn't happy though when they'd mentioned styling her hair, which would've included cutting it.

            "Grissom, they tried to get me to cut my hair short around the face.  No way!"  She'd been pacing that night in front of the fire, her arms crossed in front of her.  "I don't mind it being pinned up and put up but no way am I going to cut it into that style."

            "Why not?" He asked, a grin surfacing even though he tried desperately to hold it in.

            "Why not?  Because I don't want to return to Vegas with some weird style that I won't be able to do anything with."  Not waiting for his reply she turned and stared at the fire again.  "And quit laughing at me.  At least I'm still trying to find a way back.  You seem to be bonding so well with the Earl it makes me wonder if you want to go back."

            This surprised him.  Of course he wanted to go back.  He worried throughout the day about whether someone was taking care of his pets or how much the team and others might be worrying about them.  He told her that, but she was still exasperated by all the attention.  That was when things changed, again.  He'd gone over to comfort her in her moment of distress.  The moment grew and soon they found themselves lying on the floor in front of the fire.  Her skin was flushed with desire and his breathing was ragged when they'd finally come to the realization of where they were and what they were doing.  It took every ounce of restraint to pull away from her.

            It was the same every night.  Sara or he would be upset about something or other and they'd end up back on the floor, on the chaise lounge, or on the bed.  It didn't help any when her new clothes finally arrived.  They dressed for dinner that night and she wore one of her new dresses.  She was breathtaking.

            Her hair was pinned up but the curls were tighter and pulled away from her face rather than framing it.  The dress color was a soft hued gold, or at least that's how Sara described it to him.  What caught Grissom's eye however, was the bodice.  The square cut accentuated her bust-line and he wasn't so sure if he liked it, he was torn between wanting her and wanting her to cover up.  If she stretched or moved the wrong way, he feared she would expose more than either of them wanted.

            He also couldn't help sneaking another glance as they descended the stairs together.  He was beginning to understand the need the men had to get married.  It was either ruin a girl or he marries her.  Of course, they all thought that Sara and he were married already.  With each passing day, it became increasingly difficult to remember that they weren't.

            They remained for the meal only that night.  Sara was still tiring easily.  When they'd returned to their rooms, the maid was waiting for them so that she could help Sara undress.  It wasn't an easy thing to get out of these dresses.  He'd left for a moment and when he'd returned she was in her nightgown and standing by the fire, and that's when they'd had their next discussion about returning to Vegas.

            "What are we going to do when we get back, Grissom?" she asked in a subdued voice.

            Her meaning unclear, he replied with another question, "What do you mean… exactly?"  Did she mean, the jewelry store case, the questions about where they'd been, or was she talking about their 'relationship'?  He watched her silently as she stood before the fire.  Her hair had been released from its pins and hung in ringlets down her neck.  He wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through them.

            "Us, Grissom," she whispered.  "What do we do about us?"

            "What do you want to do?"

            "No, Grissom.  You already know what I want to do.  I need to know what you want."

            Grissom sat heavily on the edge of the bed with a sigh.  "I don't know, Sara.  I…" Again he sighed, but this time it was in surrender.  "No, I do know.  I just don't know how to say it."

            The shuffling of her feet brought his attention to her and before he knew it, she was standing in front of him.  He stood, meeting her face to face.  Cradling her face in his hands, he leaned in for a kiss.

            "Tell me," she entreated.

            "I want you," he choked out.  It was a start and now that he had, he couldn't stop.  "I want to feel your soft skin on my fingertips.  I want to know every one of your curves intimately, and every freckle I may find.  I want to know what excites you, what noises you make as I find each spot that turns you on.  I…"  His eyes closed and his jaw tightened.

            "What, Grissom?  What else?" she commanded.

            "I want to hear you calling my name," he whispered as he claimed her mouth.

            The kiss didn't last long.  He tasted the salty tears on her face and pulled away to look in her eyes.  What he saw made his heart leap.  The love he saw through her tears astounded him.  He'd always known she'd felt something for him, but this was the first time he realized how deep it went.  He pulled her closer, hugging her and as if a song was playing in the background, they swayed back and forth.

            "Damn, Griss.  You really know how to turn a girl's head when you want to," she mumbled against his shoulder.

            "I try," he chuckled.

            "We really need to figure this out.  We don't know how long we're going to be here.  Isn't there… something we can do?"

            He knew exactly what she meant.  And if he knew of any way to… wait, "I think I know of a way."

            Sara tipped her head back.  "What way?  How?"

            "I'm not sure.  I'll need to look into it tomorrow.  Certainly, not tonight, I'm sorry."  He pulled her back against him and held her as he contemplated what he needed to do.  "A couple more days, Sara.  We can handle that."  He felt more than heard her groan against his chest.

            "Okay." Sara pulled away and stepped back.  "I'm, uh… we need to get some sleep.  I'm supposed to join them tomorrow when they receive their guests.  I guess we're the talk of the haute ton right now.  We're heroes, we saved the Countess."

            "The haute ton?" he asked.

            She stopped her rambling and gave him an exasperated look.  "Society, Grissom.  That's what they call the upper echelon.  The Haute Ton."

            "Oh."  He grabbed his pillow and the blanket he'd been using the past few nights and began to spread it out on the floor.  He felt her eyes on him and he turned back to see that she'd already climbed into bed.

            "Gris, this is ridiculous.  Come to bed.  You can't keep sleeping on the floor."

            "I'm fine.  It's not that bad.  The rug is plusher than it looks."  He saw her shuffle under the covers and a lump formed in his throat.  He didn't think that if he climbed in with her that he'd be able to keep his hands off of her.

            "We did it for what… three or four nights?  What's different between the bed and keeping our hands off of each other, from us standing and ending up on the floor and stopping from going further?"

            She had a point.  He looked from the bed to the floor then back to the bed again.  Damn, I hate it when she's right.  He picked up the pillow and threw it back on the bed, aiming for her.  She caught it and laughed at his attempt.  "Don't say it," he grumbled as he pointed a finger at her.  He picked up the blanket and laid it on top of the other ones on the bed, then climbed in.  She scooted over further to her side and turned her back to him.  He did the same.

            "Goodnight, Grissom."

            "Goodnight, Sara."

            Before his eyes closed, however, he wondered how long it would be before they ended up lying in each other's arms.  It wasn't a question of whether they would... but when.