A/N: Final chapter to this one! Thanks to everyone who read this short story!

Love Looks Not...

Chapter 3

Rain poured during their drive back to Vegas; traffic slowed to a crawl as water pooled on streets, as over-flowing gutters were unable to drain all the rain. Several times lightning cracked like a whip across the sky followed by a boom of thunder that sounded like distant cannon fire. By the time they reached Sara's apartment building, the lightning and thunder had move away but rain pelted in a downpour.

"I'm going in," Sara said with a laugh as she opened the car door. As she ran in the rain, she heard Grissom slam the other door. She sprinted, he jogged.

Laughing, she opened the door to her apartment. They were not quite drowned rats, but certainly resembled a couple of wet dogs. Grissom, hatless, stopped at the doorway and actually shook himself sending water droplets from his hair and clothes around the landing.

Sara ran into the bathroom for towels returning quickly and found him removing wet shoes. As she wrapped a towel around his shoulders, he said, "It occurred to me halfway to the door that my condo parking is much nearer the door." Using the towel to dry his hair, he turned to face Sara.

Her hair was wet and curling, forming a dark nimbus around her pale face; her eyes were pools of sensual intrigue and her smile was one that never failed to make everything inside him clench with excitement.

He pulled her into his arms. When her mouth met his, a fire leaped between them. He experienced the same sensation that always came over him when he held her like this. She had been meant for him, he thought. He did not have to restrain himself with her; he did not have to tread warily with her. As always, the wave of heat was instantaneous, washing over him, stirring desire.

She was different from any woman he had ever known. He could take the risk of allowing her to get close to that part of him that he had spent a lifetime concealing and controlling. When he lifted his mouth from hers, she murmured, "I think we need the bed."

He groaned, took her mouth again with more urgency, sweeping a hand down her side and pulled her hips hard against his.

In a clothes-dropping sequence, laughing as they held each other and fumbled with wet shirts and pants, they made it to her bed, quickly disheveled as they rolled in a passionate embrace. In a tangle of legs and arms, deep kisses and caressing hands, he settled himself between her warm thighs, caught her wandering hands and gently anchored them on either side of her head. An aching urgency pounded through him as he kissed her throat. He was as hard as he had ever remembered.

He whispered, "Sometimes I want you so much it's a miracle I don't go up in flames."

"You know I feel the same way." They eyes held for a long moment.

He released one of her wrists and drew his palm along her shoulder, around her breast; his thumb stroked her nipple before moving across her stomach to her hip, and finally to her inner thigh. When he reached his goal, he found her warm and damp. The scent of her body acted like a drug to his senses. With one finger, he gently touched her causing a gasp and a sinuously movement beneath him.

Impatiently, Sara tried to free her wrist from his grasp but he murmured against her breast, "Not yet. Tell me how you want me to touch you."

"You are touching me precisely how I want you to touch me." She caught her breath as his fingertips moved a little higher, one pressing firmly against her feminine core.

She moaned and raised her hips.

"What about this?" He slid a finger inside her, pressing the moist snug passage as tiny muscles clenched. "Better?"

He felt her clinch around his finger. Sounding breathless, she said, "You know what I want."

Taking one nipple into his mouth while simultaneously easing his finger inside her in a slow sweeping motion, Sara twisted beneath him, struggling to free her hand.

"Not yet," he mumbled, his tongue tasting her hard nipple. "I want to feel you with my hand."

"Gil!"

He probed deeper, stroking until she cried out. Releasing her hand, he continued with his finger until she grabbed him, placing his erect penis into her vagina as her legs wrapped over his hips. He thrust into her as she convulsed around him with another soft cry, pulling him inside her with throbbing passion. Her pulses triggered his own climax, swept through him like an invisible storm. Together, they fell into that passionate whirlpool, leaving both limp and still.

A long time later, Grissom roused himself from the sweet, heavy lethargy that came in the wake of passion. The scent of their lovemaking hung in the air, ripe and potent. He would always associate it with her.

Sara lay languidly on top of him, her head pillowed against his shoulder, her bare leg over his thigh, her warm knee snuggled against his groin.

Stroking the length of her spine with his fingers, all the way to the soft curve of her butt, he asked softly, "Asleep?"

"No," she mumbled.

"I love you," he whispered. "Whatever happens, do not forget that."

She stirred, lifted her head, and kissed him. "I love you too—whatever else happens—even when I can't show it."

Taking her head between his hands, he kissed her, feeling heat returning. They had spoken similar words after making love; it had become a ritual, a private vow. He said "I should go—give you time to rest."

She smiled with eyes that darkened into blackness, moving her hand deliberately down below his stomach and threading fingers into the nest of curly hair.

"Do you really want to spend what's left of the day sleeping?"

Chuckling, he turned to her, saying, "I'm off tonight, dear. You are the one who has to go in—you need some sleep." Reluctantly, he got out of bed.

"Gil."

He turned to look at her, lying on her back, one pale breast exposed, with dark eyes that offered passion he had not dreamed possible. Glancing at the window, the sun had returned, drying away evidence of the earlier downpour. Several hours before she was scheduled to work, he thought. The heat in his abdomen grew; his desire obvious.

"You know it is becoming—harder," his knee was on the bed. "Harder to leave you."

She giggled as she pulled him back into the bed.

…Hours later, Sara pulled into the lab parking deck. As she got out of her car, Greg Sanders waved both arms in the air as he walked toward her.

"Hey, Sara! Missed you last night! You look like you had a good day—ready to work tonight?"

"I did enjoy my night away from all of this—even enjoyed the rain today." She closed her car door and waited for him.

Greg performed a bouncing leap, laughing as he joined her, saying, "Maybe it will be a quiet night—we could use one." Abstractedly, his eyes glanced into her car. As Sara turned away from him, he did a double-take, a longer look.

Quickly, he looked at Sara as she walked toward the lab. For weeks, she'd had a smile on her face, a spring to her walk, a subtle difference in appearance—and now, Grissom's straw hat lay on the back seat of her car.

He hurried to catch up. "So, Sara, did you enjoy Valentine's Day?"

She said, "Flowers and candy celebrating some guy who had his head chopped off—really, Greg." Half turning to face him, pulling a face, she laughed.

That's when Greg saw the necklace, sparkling as it reflected overhead lights, almost hidden by her jacket. A new necklace, Grissom's hat in her car; Sara was happy, content, glowing.

As he flung an arm over her shoulder, patted her arm, he said, "So you had a good day off—that's good, real good."

Sara's chin tilted up slightly; her smile spread across her face. "I did, Greg. I did."

A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading, a special appreciation to those who review and comment! As always, keep reading, keep reviewing, keep GSR alive!