Writing on a Blank Slate
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.
Rating: M (please note that this is a precautionary measure: I don't plan on getting too carried away!)
A/N: Yes, I know this part of the plot is horribly contrived. But it works.
Chapter 11: "I'm not so sure about myself."
Sara insisted that Nick choose a bed and sit back to watch TV while she brought in their stuff. As well as unloading their bags she also carried in their boxes, saying that she didn't want to risk losing them if she did have to hand the car over to a mechanic.
"Okay," Nick grinned when she was done, patting the bed beside him. "Now come keep your poor, wounded boyfriend company."
Sara's heart still jumped at the use of the word 'boyfriend', and now it had an added reason to quicken as she realized that she had never actually sat beside Nick in private before.
Nick sensed her hesitation. "What's the matter darlin'?" he asked, puzzled. "Don't you trust me?" He was a little hurt by that, but Sara just chuckled ruefully.
"I trust you," she replied. "I'm just not so sure about myself."
"Really?" The implications of her admission brought a sexy smirk to his lips. She took it as a challenge and, with a toss of her head, settled on the bed next to him.
Nick reflected that he probably shouldn't have let her apply that lotion to his hand. Being alone in a motel room with Sara was something he had been thinking about for days, and a little pain might have helped him keep his libido under control. As it was, it was going to be down to sheer will-power… and her comment about not trusting herself hadn't exactly helped him on that score.
He drew a deep breath and forced himself to concentrate on the penguins that were currently being cute on the Discovery Channel.
Sara leaned her head against Nick's shoulder, enjoying the feeling of his arm about her. It had been a long time since she'd curled up with someone like this, and it felt so right, so comfortable.
She must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew the voices on the TV had changed and Nick was calling her name in a soft, teasing tone.
"Sara? Earth to Sara? Wake up sweetheart."
"Hmmmm?" She raised her head groggily and he chuckled.
"You wanna order a pizza?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure," she nodded. "Half vegetarian-"
"-with everything?" he finished for her. "No problem."
He leaned across her for the phonebook and she inhaled sharply at the pressure of his body against hers. He met her gaze for a long moment before shaking himself as though trying to shake off his own carnal thoughts.
"Pizza," he said firmly, claiming the book and moving back to a safer distance.
She picked up the remote and began channel-surfing as he placed the order.
The pizza, along with onion rings, French fries and soda, went well with the sci-fi comedy that they had settled on. As the night wore on, however, and sci-fi gave way to rom-com, the sexual tension in the room seemed to build to an almost intolerable level.
"Well," Sara said briskly, pushing herself up from the bed almost before the end credits had begun to roll, "I'm going to have a shower."
She grabbed her things and headed for the bathroom, returning a moment later when she realized she had forgotten her night-shirt. Once safely back in the bathroom she shut and locked the door and leaned against it with a deep breath.
"Okay, Sidle," she told herself firmly, "you can do this. You can have a shower and go to bed and get some sleep and not try to seduce your sexy co-worker – former co-worker – who is probably sitting out there imagining you naked. Yeah, sure you can."
She turned on the water and undressed, trying not to think about Nick lying on his bed in the next room listening to her bathe.
Nick heard the water running and tried not to think about images of naked, wet, soapy Sara. The familiar stirring in his jeans, which he had been feeling even more than usual lately, told him that he wasn't being entirely successful.
He briefly considered a therapeutic spell of masturbation but decided against it. The last thing he needed was for Sara to walk out of the bathroom and find him in the throes of self-abuse to the sound-track of her ablutions.
She emerged a short while later, toweling her hair. She hadn't bothered straighten it since they had left Las Vegas and he liked the softer look that the waves gave to her features. She smiled and gestured towards the bathroom.
"All yours."
He rose and turned away, hoping that she hadn't noticed the tell-tale bulge in his jeans.
Sara finished drying her hair and turned out all but the bedside lamps. Then she climbed into her bed, hoping she would fall asleep before Nick finished in the bathroom, but her mind kept coming back to the sound of the shower and the images it conjured up.
Nick naked. Nick tilting his head back under the water. Nick soaping his well-muscled chest. Soaping lower. Was he hard, she wondered? Was he touching himself as she was now touching herself, breath coming faster, careful not to make a sound until release drew a soft whimper of pleasure from her throat?
She rolled over to face the wall, her heart hammering. A moment later the water cut off and she closed her eyes, determined that sleep, or a counterfeit thereof, would preclude further conversation that night.
Nick emerged to find Sara apparently asleep.
"Sara?" he tried.
Receiving no reply, he moved over to her bed and turned out her lamp, leaning over to place a soft kiss on her brow.
"Night, darlin'" he whispered. Then he retreated to his own bed.
A/N: Yes, yes, I know I'm a tease!