No Room To Wiggle
Summary: Grissom tricked Sara into going to a conference with him. What's going to happen now that she knows the truth?
A/N: A follow up to my Improve Challenge short story, Wiggle Room, that one of my betas blackmailed me into writing. A few sprinkled spoilers for season four. Thanks to Burked for her beta skills. All errors are mine.
Rating: PG-13 - may change later.
Disclaimer: If I haven't figured out a way to own CSI by now, I'm never going to.

Chapter 8

Early the next morning, Grissom stood by his bedroom window, his brow raised in consternation as he pondered exactly when his life became a karmic nightmare. A late summer storm swept through during the night, and the lingering remnants threatened to put a damper on their outing to Cedar Point.

Tapping his fingers against the sill, he tried to think of an alternative if the weather didn't improve. Grissom doubted that the Toledo Crime Lab would appreciate it if he brought Sara to a crime scene as a first date, but he couldn't think of anything else guaranteed to hold her interest.

He hoped that wasn't an omen.

So far, this entire venture could be chalked up as an example of Murphy's Law in action. Nothing had gone as planned. His goal had been to spend some time with Sara outside the stresses of work, to gauge her interest in a relationship. If she were agreeable, then they could proceed in a gentle stroll through all the emotional landscape that would entail.

What they ended up with was a head-on collision of raw fears.

Faced with the emotional intensity of the exchange, he'd reacted instinctively, retreating away from Sara and the potential damage this relationship posed. Luckily, she remained levelheaded through it, but Grissom knew he came dangerously close to permanently ending things. And he also knew that this was his last chance.

I hope. I hurt her when I backed off. I didn't mean to, but it keeps happening. Why does she put up with me? No one else has ever been willing to.

Sara was right – if we don't try, we'll never know how happy we could be. It may end up a disaster, but I can't let her go without trying. She won't have any trouble finding someone else; she won't put her life on hold because of me.

That would kill me – watching Sara make a new life with some other man, knowing that I was afraid to even try.

Letting out a loud huff, he gathered his clothes together. The weather was out of his control; if a change of plans were necessary, he'd defer to Sara's wishes. It would serve as a chance to gain some insight into her preferences, and Grissom wanted her to feel relaxed.

The sight of sheep in the suite's common area caused him to pause on the way to the bathroom. Sara sat at the table, clad in her sheepish sleepwear, tapping softly at the keyboard.

"Don't you ever sleep?" he asked half-jokingly.

"Sure," Sara said, smiling as she looked up from the laptop. "Just checked the weather. There's a chance of showers through the day. I went to the Cedar Point web site; as long as the weather doesn't get too bad, the rides stay open."

"We don't have to go," he offered diplomatically, trying to focus on her face rather than her pajamas. He had an uncontrollable urge to count all the sheep.

The thought of Sara wearing happily frolicking animals to bed shattered any amorous images he had. Considering he was standing in front of her clad only in his underwear in a hotel suite, Grissom decided that probably was a good thing.

"When's the next time you're going to be this close to these roller coasters? Uh, Grissom?"

He snapped his head up, mortified that he'd been caught in the act of gathering wool. While she was talking, his gaze had drifted to a pair of peculiarly playful sheep. Unfortunately, they happened to be at chest-level.

"Those are very … distracting," he mumbled, pointing towards her pajamas with one hand while the other brought his clothes in front of him.

Sara flashed him a toothy grin as she shut down the computer. "They're thin, so they pack easily."

"That's why you got them?"

"Actually, I had no idea anyone else would be seeing my PJs when I was packing for this trip," she answered dryly and raising a lone eyebrow. "And, for the record, I didn't buy them. They were a gift from one of the guys, back when I was in San Francisco."

"Really?"

Great. She's wearing the nightclothes some other man gave her. Well, that's a definite signal … of some sort. Right? And what kind of lover would buy something like that as a present?

Sara rolled her eyes, getting up to start a pot of coffee. "Jealousy isn't one of your better points, Grissom. They came from a Secret Santa. We gave joke gifts at the lab," she added when he gave her a curious look. "We were always having fun with stuff like that."

Grissom stepped over to the counter, leaning against it and tilting his head as she worked on the coffee. "We don't do things like that. Is it something that you miss?"

"Sometimes. Different people, different … traditions, I guess you'd call it. Somehow, I can't see you giving Catherine a box of exploding cigars as a gift."

"I value my life too much. What else do you miss?"

Sara turned the coffee maker on, crossing her arms as she leaned back. She was quiet for a moment, before a wistful smile formed. "The water. Lake Mead isn't the same. You don't get the breezes, the salty air. Wreaks hell with crime scenes, but I even miss the rain."

"We'll get some of that today. Cedar Point is right on Lake Erie," Grissom said, pushing away from the counter. Feeling the resistance, he froze before another disaster occurred.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Grissom said quickly, nodding towards the bathroom. "Why don't you take your shower first? Go on."

"Okay," she replied, shaking her head in confusion as she went to retrieve her own supplies. Once Sara was in the bedroom, Grissom frantically tried to free himself; the underwear-eating counter had snagged his boxers once again.

After losing another pair of shorts, a leisurely breakfast in the hotel's dining room and a two-hour drive filled with causal conversation, Grissom smiled as they made their way into Cedar Point. Both the weather and mid-week timing helped explain the meager crowds.

"We won't have any trouble with lines," he said happily.

"Where do you want to start?"

"With the best. Let's go to the Top Thrill Dragster."

Tagging along, she smiled in response to his palpable eagerness. It was a side he seldom showed, but when he did, Grissom didn't hold back.

"So, what makes it top?" she teased. "Do they have a scale? Middle, top, over-the-top…"

"It's the tallest and fastest coaster in the world," Grissom said, pointing to the tracks rising in the distance.

Sara stopped in mid-stride, her arms falling limply to her side. "No way."

"What?" he asked, his eyes darting around in puzzlement.

"How tall is that thing?"

"Four hundred and twenty feet," he supplied from memory.

"And you want to ride it? You are insane!"

"It's fun."

"Fun? You saw what that little coaster in Vegas did. Do you have any idea what the terminal velocity on that thing would be?"

"Top speed is one hundred and twenty miles per hour."

"No way," she repeated, crossing her arms and shaking her head. "No friggin' way. That's suicide."

Sara didn't budge when he tried to encourage her to move. Grissom's tongue peeked out between his lips as he rubbed his beard. Okay, Sara doesn't like thrill rides. That's odd. How can anyone not like roller coasters? Hmm. Small steps – remember. Let's try something else first.

Running his eyes over her hip-huggers, tie-dyed shirt and beaded necklace, a sly smile formed. "Why don't we start with the Woodstock Express?"

"Real funny, Grissom," Sara said.

"Well, you didn't want to ride the biggest roller coaster."

Sara turned away from the kiddie ride, fixing him with a pointed look.

"You didn't get a clue when we entered Camp Snoopy?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips.

"You're a real smart as … alec," she answered, biting back her original reply when she noticed that a redheaded boy standing nearby had turned to watch them.

"You don't hafta be afraid, lady. That ride don't go fast," he said, pausing in between each word to lick at his ice cream cone.

"He's right," Grissom said, his eyes twinkling with hidden laughter.

"My baby sister is riding it all by herself."

"And all those other little kids are riding all by themselves. See, it's safe."

"I am not afraid," she said shortly, resisting the urge to plant her elbow in Grissom's stomach.

"You can hold your Daddy's hand if you are, though," the ice cream eating commentator added, nodding sagely.

It was Sara's turn to hold back her laughter when Grissom's expression changed immediately, his mouth dropping in shock. Knowing the age difference bothered him, she moved quickly before any permanent damage could be done.

"He's not my dad."

"He's not?" the kid asked incredulously, swinging his head back and forth.

"No, I am not."

"Then what are you doing here with him?"

"Didn't your parents ever tell you not to talk to strangers?" Grissom asked curtly.

"Yeah, but my Daddy is a professional wrestler. He'll smash anybody that causes any trouble."

"They're loading for the next ride," Sara said, pulling on Grissom's arm before the kid's father did show up. Seeing his scowl as they took the last row of seats, she nudged him with her shoulder before interlacing her fingers with his. "You can still hold my hand."

Grissom reluctantly smiled, giving her a gentle squeeze and a wink when the ride pulled out from the loading platform.

After leaving Camp Snoopy, Grissom led Sara in a crisscrossed pattern through the park, gradually working their way through the coasters. They managed to get in rides on the Wildcat, Blue Streak and the Iron Dragon before the storm cloud burst.

Grabbing Sara, Grissom made a quick dash to the side, pulling her under the overhang of a concession stand. She laughed lightly, stopping when he turned to face her. They stared at each other silently for a moment. Resting his hands on either side of her, Grissom leaned in close to share the narrow strip of protected space.

He watched as Sara swallowed nervously before licking her lips, her fingers coming to rest lightly at his waist. The cool rain fell on his backside, a noticeable difference to the heat he could feel coming from her body.

His eyes still trained on her lips, he stepped closer as the downpour drove others to share their overhang.

The one we're sharing with groups of children.

Grissom blinked rapidly as he took a deep gasp of breath. Sara looked to the side and downward, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks as both of them realized they were in public. They stood there uncomfortably aware of the crowd, both conscious of their mutual attraction and the fact they couldn't act on it.

Once the rain let up, Grissom stepped away, smiling when Sara slipped her hand into his. Clearing his throat, he pointed out their next destination. "That's the Disaster Transport," he said, grimacing at the squeak that worked its way into his voice.

"Yeah, that's a name that inspires confidence," she said drolly as her heart continued to race.

"It ain't bad. It's all inside, and you can't see nothing, but it don't go fast."

Both turned to stare at the same redheaded kid following behind them. He even had another ice cream cone.

"You can hold your Daddy's hand if you get afraid, lady," he said before moving on, apparently oblivious to the calls of "I'm not her father!" and "I'm not scared!" that followed him.

Two rides later, Grissom suggested they get an early lunch, leading her towards one of the restaurants located inside the park. He smiled contently as they walked hand-in-hand. The public display of affection would strike most people as trivial, but to Grissom it held significance. And Sara knew that.

This is nice. I wish I had thought of this sooner. No one knows us, there's no pressure from work. We don't have to hide anything. We don't have to worry about protocol or regulations. We can just be ourselves, have fun.

Seeing Sara's affectionate grin, he dropped his head momentarily. After years of denials and yearnings, it struck him as incredible that she harbored similar feelings. Rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, Grissom's smile broadened.

This is very nice.

Before they reached the restaurant's entrance, he let out a surprised huff when she suddenly pulled him around the side of the building. The breath escaped in a prolonged hiss when Sara pressed him against the wall.

"Fred alert," she muttered distastefully, carefully peering around the corner.

"Oh," Grissom said, swallowing as he fought his body's reaction. His frustration was compounded by the fact Sara wasn't aware what she was doing to him. Her attention was on the crowds and the annoying Stanford professor, but her fingers played over his chest reflexively. They were close enough together that he could feel her breath tinkling his neck.

And we're still in public! Stop thinking about it. Right. Just ignore the fact a woman I've dreamt about for years is pressed up against me. I could just reach out … No! Kids. There are kids everywhere. We're in a secluded spot; we can't be seen here. No! Don't think like that.

"Figures he'd show up here. I was ready to strangle him yesterday at the conference."

"I thought you liked him," Grissom replied automatically, closing his eyes as he dredged up baseball statistics from years gone by.

"Oh, puh-lease! Give me some credit," she said, taking his hand and resuming course to the restaurant. When Grissom didn't respond, Sara shot him an amused look over her shoulder. "I may have bad taste where guys are concerned, but I'm not that hopeless."

"If you say so," he answered distractedly, pausing and cocking his head in confusion. "What? Wait a minute…"

Sara laughed as she walked into the restaurant.

When the second rainstorm started, Sara took the initiative and pulled Grissom into an arcade. He smiled indulgently when she got a handful of tokens. Sara returned the look with a hint of a challenge, pointing to a line of Skeeball machines along the back wall.

"Wanna see if you can score?"

"I think I'm up for it," he replied gravely to her teasing.

"We'll see about that."

Six games later, and with a significantly lower score, Grissom turned to her in a mock-pout. "I thought I was going to score."

"Nothing's guaranteed," she said softly, her arms wrapped lightly around herself.

"I wouldn't presume to think so."

Sara grinned before rolling her last ball for another perfect score. "And you fell for that. Come on, Grissom. This is pure physics."

"Maybe we should try another game," he said, leading her to a pinball machine and whispering into her ear. "I wanna score."

She closed her eyes as a shiver ran down her back. Grissom saw the reaction, and he cleared his throat as his mouth went dry.

"You have to have the right moves," Sara replied, grinning over her shoulder as she played her first ball. It became a scowl when the ball immediately dropped down a side chute, ending her turn.

His lips twitching, Grissom raised an eyebrow at her low growl. Taking his place at the machine, he played his first ball. While not record breaking, he managed to score considerably higher than Sara.

Her second shot managed to bounce around some low-scoring bumpers at the top of the machine before rolling down the center. Pushing the flapper buttons wildly, Sara scrunched her face as Grissom resisted the urge to chuckle.

Sara rested against an adjoining machine, her arms crossed as she gave him a mock-scowl as he sent his second shot on a circuitous route through the game, racking up an impressive score.

Pivoting on one foot, he leaned his hip against the pinball machine and gave her an innocent look. "Are those the right moves?"

Moving into position, Sara glared at him, but with an annoyed smile. "You cheat."

"Never," he stated seriously, leaning in close to her and resting a hand on the small of her back. "That's something I can promise."

"Okay. Uh, good," she answered, looking away with a bashful grin. After a moment to compose herself, Sara examined the game in more detail. "I can figure this out."

"You're releasing the ball too late."

"What do you mean?"

As Grissom swung around to demonstrate, Sara stepped away from the machine. They both started as her backside pressed into the front of his body, each feeling the tension intensifying as a veritable electric charge coursed through them.

Closing his eyes, Grissom inhaled deeply as his head dropped to her neck. His hands rested on her hips instinctively, and he squeezed when she leaned back momentarily before moving away.

We're in public! Surrounded by kids! God, this is going to be the death of me. Decomps, autopsies, bodies hit by trains, Greg's singing. Think of anything but the way she felt, the smell of her.

Maybe I should go stand in the rain.

"The rain's letting up," Sara said, her face flushed.

Figures. Murphy's Law again.

"How about something to drink? I could use something to drink," she added, looking everywhere but Grissom's face.

"Something cold would be good," he croaked out. "And the Mantis is nearby. Let's see if we can ride that."

"That's a fun one."

Both sets of eyes swung slowly to the side, staring at the ice cream armed boy who stared at them. Mortified that they may have been observed, Grissom gave silent thanks that at least the boy was too young to understand what he had seen.

"It's nothing to be get afraid of," the redheaded kid added.

"How old do you have to be before you can be charged as a stalker," Sara muttered. She pushed Grissom ahead of her, shoving the tickets she won from the Skeeball machine in the kid's hand in a pre-emptive strike. "And he's not my father!"

"This way."

"There're no coasters over there," Grissom said in confusion.

"I know," Sara replied, giving him a wink. "There are other rides here. We're riding at least one of them."

"If you want."

With an amused eye roll at his bewilderment, she led him through the lines, pulling him back at the last moment.

"I get in first," she insisted, smiling as he shrugged. "Basic physics."

"What?" Grissom asked, shaking his head as the ride started. "Centrifugal acceleration."

"You can get smashed," she teased, sliding over against him in an exaggerated imitation of the ride's end result. Her grin was irresistible.

Before the spinning ride picked up full speed, Grissom slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her even closer. When he glanced back at her, her smile was gone. He recognized the look of deep concentration as Sara stared at his profile.

Exiting the ride, Sara walked ahead of Grissom, seemingly lost in thought. She stopped when he called out, shaking her head when he pointed to the popcorn vendor. He stood in line to get a container, but more as a diversionary tactic than from hunger.

That's the Sara-in-full-sleuth look, but I have no idea what caused it.

Grissom offered her some of his popcorn, but Sara still declined, her head tilting as she watched him chew. Feeling a bit self-conscious, he led her towards the Top Thrill Dragster.

Sara didn't mind the smaller coasters; maybe I talk her into it now. Well, if she still doesn't want to ride it, she'll let me know. Maybe. She hasn't spoken yet. Something has her thinking. But what?

"Something wrong?" he asked softly.

"No."

Grissom nodded, chewing another handful of popcorn thoughtfully as they strolled over the damp pavement. Sara rested her hand on his arm, stopping his forward motion. Moving to a shaded alcove, she reached to his face, turning it to one side, then back the other way.

"Is my beard lopsided?" Grissom joked.

"You have a scar behind your ear," she said, frowning as she pulled her hand back and crossed her arms defensively. "Just the one. You didn't have it before."

Uh, oh. I didn't think that it was noticeable. Well, no one's been that physically close to me since the operation.

"The scar is from a skin graft," Grissom said.

"Skin graft? That's not a very big patch of skin."

Letting out a short sigh, he directed her to a bench away from the park's other patrons. "It's enough to reconstruct the eardrums. I needed surgery to correct a hearing defect."

"Surgery? You had surgery since I got to Vegas? Without anyone knowing about it?"

"Catherine knew," Grissom replied. Immediately, he could see the pain in her eyes. "But I didn't tell her. She figured it out. My hearing went out on me at a scene."

Sara looked away, giving her head a sad shake. "You could have told me."

I never realized that Sara would be upset that I didn't tell her about the surgery. How can I explain it? I was about to lose everything. I was afraid. That's what you don't want to admit to her.

"You were seeing that paramedic. I didn't want to bother you," Grissom said.

"That's bullshit. You didn't have trouble bothering me with other stuff."

Grissom turned his head away, chewing the inside of his lip when a hand rested lightly on his.

"No, I'm sorry," she sighed, rubbing his arm. "That wasn't fair to you. I do get it. You didn't want to risk your job. You were willing to endanger the rest of us, that's how much it meant to you. It's who you are."

"That's not why…"

"Don't," she urged softly.

Grissom took a deep breath and stared at his popcorn. "I didn't want you to pity me, Sara. I didn't want you to feel sorry for me. That thought was worse than knowing I could permanently lose my hearing."

She stared at him, her jaw dropping before giving him a sad look. "Do you really think that little of me?"

"Maybe I had that little faith in myself."

"Grissom," she said, leaning back on the bench and pushing her hair away from her face. "What about now?"

"What about now?"

"Would you tell me? Or would you still keep secrets?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly, taking a single piece of popcorn and chewing slowly. "It's not a matter of trusting you, but habit. I'm not used to having someone I can talk to, so I don't tend to share personal information. I can't promise that's a habit I can get out of easily."

Sara considered his response, shrugging her acceptance. "Would you lie to me?"

"No. If you asked me a direct question, I would answer it as best as I could."

"I can live with that," she said eventually, turning her head to face him. "But if you ever have surgery again without telling me, your hospital stay is going to be a hell of a lot longer than you planned."

"Okay," he said, not doubting her for a moment. Tossing away the empty popcorn container, Grissom pointed towards the roller coaster. "What to give it a try?"

"I still think you're insane," she answered, grudgingly moving in the direction of the coaster.

"It's fun ride, lady."

"This kid is seriously freaking me out," Sara whispered to Grissom as the redheaded boy walked by with a vanilla cone. "How much ice cream do you think he's had so far today?"

"Enough that I don't want to ride near him on the coaster."

Sara gave narrowed her eyes as she glowered. "I'm really trying not to think of all the stains an ALS would show on those seats."

"I'm sure they clean them," Grissom said, taking her hand as they moved to the line.

"Some kid making minimum wage?" she huffed. "Oh, yeah, I'm sure they really clean things well."

"Didn't you bring your nonoxinol-9?"

"They won't let you disinfect the seats," Sara groused.

"I won't ask how you know that," he said with a quick wink. "It'll be fun."

"I don't go on suicidal rides with just anyone. Didn't they have an accident here earlier this summer? I hope you appreciate this."

"More than you know," he whispered.

The thunder started rolling before the ride ended, and by the time they disembarked, both of them were drenched.

"I think we better call it a day," he said as they dashed for cover under an overhang and pointing to clouds rolling off the water. "This one isn't going away quickly."

Even with Grissom holding his ever-present jacket over them as a makeshift umbrella, the rain continued to pound them as they made their way through the crowd to the parking lot.

Getting to the car, Sara turned to him, smiling nervously as he effectively pinned her against the car. She reached up, taking the jacket so Grissom could search for the keys. Instead, his eyes dropped lower, for the first time noticing the effect the cool rain had on her T-shirt.

All his frustrations from their earlier encounters came to a head as he ignored the rain, the passing cars, letting his gaze move longingly over her body.

"The keys," Sara whispered, looking around the parking lot nervously. All the other visitors were wisely getting in their vehicles.

"Right," he said hoarsely, moving quickly when a flash of lightning lit up the sky. Fishing out the keys, he opened her door, shaking his head when she tried to hand his jacket back. Running to his side, he smiled at the fact that Sara had already unlocked his door and was ready to open it for him.

"You keep it," he insisted, draping his jacket over her.

I don't think Sara realizes that shirt is see-through when it's wet. We're never going to make it back to Toledo if she doesn't cover up. At least it'll be attributed to a weather-related accident and not an uncontrollable libido.

The embarrassed smirk she gave him before looking out the window confirmed that she had realized the source of his discomfort. Licking his lips fretfully, Grissom gripped the steering wheel tightly as he waited to exit the parking lot.

The ride back to Toledo was slow, the pelting rain severely limiting visibility. They passed the time exchanging nervous smiles, their conversation forced as they both tried to ignore the feelings they couldn't act upon.

Partway back, Grissom pulled into a roadside convenience store, glancing nervously at Sara. "Do you need anything?" he asked.

Sara shook her head, watching as he looked around before entering the store. She closed her eyes and leaned against the seat, pulling the jacket off. Quickly seeing that the shirt dried off sufficiently, she tossed it over the back of the seat. Things had been steamy enough without it.

A few minutes later, Grissom returned with a paper sack. Getting into the driver's seat, he pulled out two bottles, letting Sara have her pick of drinks. She noted the bag wasn't empty when he folded it up before slipping it into his jacket pocket.

The closer they got to Toledo, the heavy the rain became, slowing their already snail pace. Instead of dissipating, the tension between them grew, until they were both fidgety when Grissom finally pulled into the hotel's parking lot.

Entering the elevator, they moved to a back corner, staying a safe distance apart as other guests joined them. The ride to the fourth floor must have passed through a wormhole, because it seemed to Sara and Grissom that it was taking forever for what should have been a short journey.

When they finally got to their floor, they silently moved to their suite, sharing quick, intense stares. Sara stared at the doorknob, trying to calm her ragged breath as Grissom fiddled with the key card.

Once inside, they moved to the center of the suite, each giving the other uncertain looks. Grissom finally stepped closer, his hands poised to hold her, but he hesitated in taking the final step necessary.

This is all a dream. If I kiss her, try to finally live this, I'll wake up.

Sara's eyes darted between his hands and his face and then back again. She flashed him a shy smile, shifting her weight anxiously from one foot to the other. Finally, she took a deep breath, grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him in for a kiss.

That was all Grissom needed to convince himself this was reality. His arms wrapped around her tightly as his mouth moved over hers in a heated frenzy. Sara's hands slipped under his jacket, urgently exploring his back.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that he'd picked her up and was carrying her to his bedroom. Laying her on the bed gently, Grissom covered her face and neck with kisses as his hands roamed over her sides. He was deliciously happy that she reacted so well to their first date.

First date?

Breaking off the kiss, Grissom rolled to his side. After clearing his throat, he gave her a forced smile. "So, what do you want to do for dinner?"

Sara stared at the ceiling for a moment before rolling her head to the side, watching Grissom with a mixture of befuddlement and wariness.

"You want to eat? Dinner? Now?"

Sensing the uncertainty in her voice, Grissom nodded. "This isn't about sex, Sara. I won't rush you," he said, trying to keep his voice from cracking. "I can wait."

Sara turned her head back to the ceiling so he wouldn't see her eye roll. He had her more aroused than she thought possible considering the limited amount of physical contact they had. From his uneven breathing and minute squirming, she gathered he was excited as well.

She smiled sweetly. Even through all this, he was willing to be gallant. It was as touching as it was unnecessary. Still, she couldn't resist the urge to turn the tables on him.

"You'll wait?" she asked, rolling on her own side.

Grissom closed his eyes briefly, but nodded. "I can be very patient," he said, sounding almost if he was trying to convince himself. "I did tell you I was courting you."

"So you did," she said, sliding closer. With an impish smile, she began to unbutton his shirt.

"Sara?" he exhaled as her hands began exploring his chest.

"Oh, I never said you had to wait," Sara whispered as she leaned in for another kiss.

TBC