Sara didn't immediately seek out Grissom when she went to meet him and the others in the downstairs foyer. She instead began chatting to Brass and Catherine, leaving Grissom with Greg.

"She not checking in with ya?" Greg questioned.

Grissom supressed the urge to spit out a nasty comment and shrugged laconically. "She doesn't have to come to me every minute of the day," he informed Greg. "She has her own life, her own friends. I'm not the only person she's allowed to speak to," he added.

Greg lifted his knowingly. "Ri-ight," he muttered sceptically. Grissom shot him a glance. "C'mon, Grissom, I know her. If she wants her own space, she goes off on her own. Aside from that, she wants to be around you. She only goes and initiates conversation with others if she's particularly bubbly that day, or she's trying to provoke a reaction."

"Would you like to live to become a CSI?" Grissom growled. "Please don't apply the necessary skills to inappropriate situations." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'm not used to this whole dating saga," he confessed. "By God, I love her, but I'm still getting over that whole 'I'm actually in a relationship with her.'" He pulled a face. "I'm sad, aren't I?"

Greg was astounded. He had never expected his boss to go after and finally get Sara, hadn't expected him to have feelings, never mind talk to him, a lowly lab rat, about said feelings. "Don't you normally talk to Jim about these things?" he asked tentatively.

"I don't normally talk to anyone about feelings except Sara." He took a deep breath, and managed to catch Sara's eye over Warrick's head. She smiled at him, and he turned to Greg slightly. "Thank you for waiting throught that," he said self-deprecatingly. He walked over to Sara, returning the smile with a hint of tenderness.

"Hey," she said, raising her eyebrows to Jim and Cath, leaving their little circle.

"Hey." Grissom put a hand on the small of her back, an excuse to move closer to her. "I'm sorry about before," he apologised.

"Nothing to be sorry for," she said plainly, wishing he wasn't going to start this again.

"There's plenty to be sorry for, and I'll go over every goddamn reason that I'm sorry later on. And then, if you'll let me, I'll make it up to you," he added, whispering in her ear.

"Okay, I've changed my mind," Sara joked, leaning into his side. "But now ... let's just forget about it. Let's just have fun."

"I couldn't agree more," Grissom smiled, hoping they weren't attracting too much attention from their colleagues.

"How was your first day at DisneyLand, then?" Grissom called. He was lying on their bed, his hands behind his head, waiting for Sara to finish up in the bathroom.

Sara sashayed in, wearing nothing but lingerie, and she caught Grissom's smirk. "Full of queues. I haven't been on theme park rides for years, I'd forgotten what it was like." She came over and straddled Grissom, and he sat up, resting his hands on his waist.

"It should be better tomorrow," he said. He lifted his head to meet her eyes. "So, I guess it's time for an explanation."

"You don't have to do this."

Grissom put a finger to her lips. "You're not getting out of it that easily," he told her. "You wanted to know, and I'm gonna tell you. It's the least I can do. So please don't interrupt me, hon," he requested. She gave a tiny nod, and Grissom sighed. "I'm reluctant to be heavy-handed 'cause ... 'cause I just am. I don't want to hurt you, and I know that given such a chance, I could. And that bothers me."

"Have you ever had the chance to find out?" Sara asked, regardless of the finger over her lips.

"Not in a bedroom scenario," he admitted. "But there's been one or two times when I've flipped. Hard. And there's stuff I know about my parents. My father was hot-headed, he could do a lot of damage. Years after my father died, when I was old enough to understand, she explained why they got divorced. He could be forceful."

Sara nodded in realisation. "And you're wondering 'Like father like son.' If you're thinking that, surely it's an indication that you're not."

"I wouldn't like to find out, or be proved wrong. I can't be hard or harsh, at least not like that," he said truthfully.

"But I can tell you're still not truly satisfied in bed. You're not fully giving of yourself, and that bothers me somewhat. Couldn't we try it? Just once? Let out that primal streak. If it helps, I'll sign a waiver," she laughed nervously.

Grissom's face remained sober. One hand splayed across the middle of her back, the other lower down at the base of her spine. "Don't joke, honey." He closed his eyes and let out a ragged breath. "I can't tell you how tempting your offer is."

"Then be tempted," came her throaty voice. She shifted herself against him appropriately, feeling a surge of liquid heat be transferred from her body to his. She felt his hands tighten along with his chest and his breath.

"Oh, Sara," he rasped.

"Go on. Take me. Tie me down to the bed and fuck me like you know you want to," she pleaded, grinding against him some more.

In a flash, he had reversed the roles. He flipped her onto her back, one hand pinning her wrists above her head, the other sliding between her legs. He stared her square in the eyes. "You sure you want this?"

She nodded submissively. "Yes."

That was all the encouragement he needed.

"You okay?" He nuzzled her ear.

"Warrick, is that you?" Catherine shifted in her sleep.

"Yeah," he said, pulling her into a hug.

"Fine. You? What woke you up?"

"Guess."

Catherine sat bolt upright and pulled away. "Them? Again?" Warrick nodded. "That's it. I'm knocking on their damn door. I need sleep."

Warrick wisely kept his mouth shut, not reminding her of their behaviour before.

"Oh, God, oh, harder," Sara pleaded. Her movements were stilled by a knock at the door, and her hips bucked involuntarily.

"Ignore it," Grissom whispered in her ear. "Go away!" he yelled in the direction of the door. "We're busy." His hand tightened around Sara's wrists, his rhythym hard and unrelenting.

"Gil, you woke us up," Catherine called.

"Unless you wanna wake the whole goddamn corridor, I suggest you LEAVE US ALONE!" He heard her stalk across the carpet and slam her bedroom door shut.

Sara reached out and touched the sleeping figure before her. How peaceful in sleep. How gentle and innocent, totally unlike last night. Oh, last night. That was amazing. He had been exaggerating. Oh, he was rough, but in exactly the right way, using it to exert exactly the right amount of pressure. She remembered how concerned he was when they finished, repeatedly asking if she was okay, brushing her hair from her face, kissing her softly, holding her body against him tenderly. She allowed herslef to trace a hand over his sleeping form. He grunted.

"What time is it?" he murmured groggily.

"Early, sweetheart," she whispered. "Got a few more hours' sleep."

"Mmm. Good. How about you? You good?"

"Oh, much, much better than good," she replied affirmatively.

"I didn't hurt you? Didn't scare you?"

"Not one bit, babe."

"Good."

"Gil?"

"Yeah?"

"I trust you," she said simply.

He felt his heart melt. It was just as important as the other three-word phrase that they uttered. "And I trust you."

"Go back to sleep."