The first thing Grissom noticed as he opened the door to Sara's apartment was the smell—a warm, sensual vanilla. The dim light was emphasized by the sensual music floating out of her stereo. His eyes flickered over the sea of candles illuminating the room before they settled on Sara.

Sara was lying on her couch in crimson red lingerie and she was rubbing her fingertips over her stomach and along her collarbones.

His heart started to beat faster and his palms became sweaty as his brain refused to permit his speech.

He walked toward her and sat on a chair next to the couch. "Sara," he began as his eyes slid up and down her thighs.

She smiled. 'It's working,' she thought.

She sat up, leaning toward Grissom seductively. "Welcome home, handsome," she purred, sliding a hand up his arm. She stood and knelt in front of him, running both hands up his thighs.

Grissom's mind was full of so many contradictory thoughts that he couldn't seem to articulate any of them. His body wanted to ravage her, his mind wanted to make love to her and his sense of propriety was calling him all sorts of horrible names.

Sara's lips descended on his and he felt as though his entire life had been made for this moment. If true love could be encapsulated in a kiss or a moment, this was it.

And then, it was over. Sara backed away from him.

"Look, I…I" Sara stuttered. Tears of embarrassment, humiliation and fear ran down her face and she grabbed an Afghan and wrapped it around herself before turning her back to Grissom. She was consumed by fear, desire and shame.

Grissom was still attempting to figure out exactly what had happened, when Sara started talking through her tears.

"I'm a freak, Grissom. You need to go. Give your heart to someone who matters," she sobbed. "You don't need someone like me holding you back."

Grissom sighed heavily and sat down next to Sara on the couch. "Sara, it's okay," he said, rubbing her back gently.

She whirled around, her tear-stained face still contorted with grief. "It's okay?" she said, her voice taking on the volume and pitch of increasing hysteria. "THIS IS NOT OKAY!" She screamed. "It's not okay that these guys attacked me. It's not okay that I was beaten senseless more times than I can count as a child. It's not okay that I'm in love with you and I'll take your shit over and over again because I'm used to being treated like crap. It's not okay, Grissom."

Grissom wrapped his arms around her as she sobbed into his chest. He rocked her back and forth gently as grief tore through her body. After her tears had subsided, Grissom broke his silence.

"I love you too, Sara," Grissom whispered into her hair. "I've loved you since the day I met you."

Sara sniffled. "You have an odd way of showing it."

"I'll have to remedy that," he kissed the top of her head.

Grissom and Sara fell into an easy rhythm. Sara's bruises had faded completely after three weeks and she was constantly planting kisses on Grissom's head as he worked on paperwork.

"Seriously Gil, I think Ecklie must be having a heart attack with you getting all this paperwork done on time," Sara teased, running her fingers through his curly salt and pepper hair.

Grissom smiled at her, painfully aware that his time with her was coming to an end.

Sara grabbed the pencil out of his hand and stuck it down her arm cast to scratch a painful itch.

"You're not supposed to do that," Grissom ordered.

"Are you going to stop me?" Sara countered, still scratching.

"Maybe," he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Sara laughed at him. And kept scratching. "Argh! I can't wait until this damn thing comes off."

Grissom's smile faded a little. "It's only three more days."

"You know," Sara said shyly, "I still might need help around the house after these casts come off."

The supervisor in Grissom spoke. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea," he said.

Sara felt like she had been slapped across the face. "Why not?" she asked testily.

Grissom smiled. "Because I might just fall completely and irrevocably in love with you."

Sara plopped onto his lap.

"I hate to inform you of this, but I think you're too late," she said smiling.

Grissom initiated the kiss. He cradled her as his mouth explored hers with ravenous passion. Desire rocketed through his body and Sara could feel his excitement from her position on his lap.

She broke their connection and stared into his eyes.

"If you start this, you know that you can't stop. You can't push me away," Sara said softly.

Grissom leaned his head down again. "I can't imagine why I'd want to."

They kissed like teenagers when Grissom broke their kiss.

"Sara?"

Her eyes were still closed, her mouth partly open. "Hmmm."

"Look at me," he said quietly but firmly.

She opened her eyes and stared into his. He looked grim and serious.

"Sara, I need to ask you something."

Sara nodded, her mind conjuring up all sorts of horrible things that could emerge from his mouth next.

"Will you marry me?" he said, pulling out a black velvet box from under a case file next to him.

Sara nodded. "Yes," she said, kissing him.

Grissom slipped the ring on her finger and stood, helping Sara to her feet in the process.

"Where are you going?" she asked as he began to wander off toward the bedroom.

"I'm getting our coats," he said.

"What? Why?"

"I wouldn't want you to be cold when we walk down the aisle."

Sara gaped at him. "You want to get married, NOW?"

Grissom nodded.

"Why not?"

Sara shrugged as they headed toward the door.