A/N: First, apologies for taking so long to post this chapter! Sometimes real life gets in the way! Hope you enjoy this chapter! Your reviews are appreciated...

Gil Grissom's Romance

Chapter 18

It had become a ritual; when she walked into Grissom's kitchen, her hand reached for the plant, raking upward to release the fragrance of rosemary. Grissom had brought it home after Adam Trent had tried to assault her and, now, weeks later, the aroma made her feel—she smiled—secure.

A quiet laugh bubbled from her thoughts. More correctly, he had given the plant to her as a gift but somehow it—like she—had managed to find a place in Grissom's home. She'd slept more in his bed than hers over the past weeks but she could not give up her apartment—not yet—it remained her one hold-out of independence.

Another laugh came to her lips as she opened cabinets. She'd never been a cook—neither had Gil Grissom. But as a joke that had turned into fun, they had started preparing meals together. And now, she felt like she was actually getting good at it—at least, at a few recipes. With that, she gathered tomatoes, peppers, garlic, onions, and zucchini.

By the time Grissom turned the door knob, he knew Sara was cooking. Smiling, he quietly crept up behind her—cooking was no haphazard duty for Sara. She was serious and he knew she was intently studying the recipe book on the cabinet.

She was wearing baggy shorts which really showed off her shapely long legs and a bright pink shirt exposed equally shapely arms. His breath hitched as he realized the ache he had for her—literally, he felt heat in his groin as he watched—he wanted to devour her—inch by inch. What the hell was he going to do, he thought, when she decided she'd had enough of him? How could this young woman love him as he loved her? He would take one day at a time; he had made that decision weeks ago.

Making sure she did not have anything in her hands, he slipped his arms around her from the back—which caused her to jump like a startled rabbit—and starting kissing her neck as she wiggled and giggled.

"And what are we eating today?" He asked as he twisted her around to face him.

As she explained some complicated pasta dish, his mind went to other thoughts. This was so easy—so much fun—so enjoyable—having the woman he loved in his home every day. Well, he thought, most of the time. She still insisted on keeping her small apartment and disappeared every few days to "check on things".

"Any problems at work?" Sara asked before giving him a proper welcome home kiss.

A few minutes later, Grissom laughed. "I don't remember work."

"Good!" She pointed to wine glasses. "You can pour."

Later, as he helped himself to seconds, he noticed a look of satisfaction on Sara's face and he added another compliment between bites. With a smile on his face, and healthy lust in his loins, he asked, "What's our plan for today?"

She leaned toward him, smiling, "Eat, sleep." The smile spread. "And then see what comes up."

His hand reached across the table and took hers. "Don't get me started—I fantasize about you enough as it is."

Lifting her hand in his, he intertwined his fingers with hers; her dark eyes focused on him. The feel of her skin under his fingertips was impossibly erotic. And together, they rose from the table.

"I have dessert."

His eyebrows lifted in question.

"I bought cupcakes."

Pulling her into his arms, he bit her lightly, just above the collarbone. "I'd rather have you than a cupcake."

Laughing, she lifted her arms around his neck. He would have laughed with her except the heat from his body seemed to sear any sound from this throat. Drawing a finger down her cheek, he motioned in the direction of his bedroom.

Sara said nothing as their arms wrapped around each other and they slowly walked across the room. Closing the door with his foot, Grissom tightened his arms around her. A few minutes later, he backed away.

"You smell clean—like a recent shower," he said, grinning as he held up a finger. "It won't take long."

It did not take long; by the time she got out of her clothes and put them away, pulling on a simple t-shirt, he had returned wearing a towel around his waist, leaving a trail of water drops in his wake. Silently, he took her hand and led her to the bed.

This was so easy, so comfortable, he thought, as he kissed her, pressing her even closer, wanting her to know how much she excited him.

He smiled, saying, "I didn't dare touch you today—it—it…"

Sara, nodding, said, "It can be very—provocative?" Her fingertips touched his face lighting every nerve in his body.

Grissom tightened his embrace, responding to her hands moving over his body. "I want you very much, want to be close to you."

His hands were all over her; loving hands that touched, explored, stroked, and brought her to the edge of passion. Stretching his body over hers, he took her suddenly, moving so swiftly he heard her gasp with surprised pleasure. Her legs wrapped around him as a sexual rhythm built and grew into a mounting climax. As a wonderfully considerate and caring lover, Grissom remained aware of Sara's building orgasm, felt the pulsating of her delicate tissues pulling him into her. Seconds, later, he shared her culmination of passion.

It took a few moments to regain control, for breathing to return to normal, before both shifted into a luxurious embrace, comfortable in the knowledge that each met an insatiable need. Grissom lay quietly; Sara was in his arms. This was the time in his day when tension and worry disappeared for a while.

The morning sunshine cast a pale light across the ceiling. The only sound was the rise and fall of their breathing. Sara, tucked into his shoulder, was drowsy but not asleep

He kissed her forehead. "This is peaceful," he whispered.

Sara stretched, rolled, and raised her head so she could look at him. Her fingers played with his hair.

Grissom knew she was satisfied, fulfilled. Every time they made love, he was surprised at how they seemed to reach a greater pitch of ecstasy. She always left him reeling with astonishment—he knew, scientifically, they were having sex; yet there was a feeling of intimacy of mind and body. He also knew, in private, she had brought a change in him; something sensual that made him feel very whole, very much a man.

Pushing up on an elbow, Sara looked down at him, and smiled. Her fingertips softly touched his brow. "I—I feel as if we've always been together," she quietly said.

His hand caressed her face before curling around her neck, bringing her face to his. He kissed her as a response. In his thoughts, he was certain he was his true self, without pretense, with this woman. At times, he was troubled by the kind of closeness, the compatibility, they shared. He pushed them aside; later, he would think about it later.

Neither was ready to sleep, so Sara brought a tray of food to the bedroom and they ate while in bed, devouring cheese, apples, and cupcakes as if they had not eaten in hours.

"We have the night off."

Sara's eyes met his. "Tonight? Together?" She smiled. "You don't think anyone will be suspicious?"

He chewed on an apple before he answered. "Catherine wants the weekend off and Warrick has tickets to a ballgame." He shrugged. "So you and I work doubles over the weekend, but we have tonight and Monday night off."

Handing him the last bite of a cupcake, Sara said, "So we have the rest of the day." Smiling, she punched a pillow.

"It's a beautiful day—we should get out in the sun—do something."

Already sinking her head into the pillow, Sara closed her eyes, saying "Sleep."

Grissom wrapped his arms around her, laughing. "I'm invigorated—let's do something fun. We can sleep later."

Sara turned her face into the pillow, mumbling, "Don't most men want to sleep after sex—at least that's what I've read."

Laughing as he nuzzled his chin across her neck, he said, "If you don't go with me, I'll be lonesome—you'll be here all alone." Placing a row of kisses along her shoulder and neck, he paused long enough to suck gently on the skin just below her jaw.

She wiggled, moving her neck away. "No marks, Gilbert!"

"Then come with me—it will be fun." He kept nuzzling until she giggled. "Come on—we'll sleep later. Let's drive—I've got a place to show you."

By the time Sara took a quick shower and dressed, Grissom had returned from the garage. He said, "Grab us some food while I take a quick run in the shower." When she gave him a puzzled look, he smirked a smile and disappeared into the bathroom.

Minutes later, they were in his car, a cooler filled with an assortment of foods in the back seat. And Sara noticed something else.

"So—we're going fishing."

Grissom smiled, cranked the car, and backed into the street.

"I—I don't fish."

Pretending interest in traffic, he drove and waited several minutes before saying, "You'll like this kind of fishing—we'll throw back what we catch."

"Okay—I'm going along with you. But don't expect me to—to fish."

"You'll enjoy it," Grissom said, reaching over and taking her hand.

He drove north, making one stop to get a fishing license for Sara, and, once out of the city, both of them rolled windows down and let the wind blow into the car. As they reached the foothills of the mountains, the temperature dropped several degrees.

"The corrections center is up here," Sara said. "I've never been past that point."

Smiling Grissom pressed the gas pedal to increase speed. He said, "You haven't seen the best place in the area."

"Spring Mountains?"

"Cold Creek—I think you'll be surprised."

A few miles later he slowed and turned off the highway. They followed a dusty paved road for several miles, seeing nothing but the scrubby land of the high desert broken with scattered clusters of pine trees.

Suddenly, Sara sat forward, waving her arm at something in the distance. "I see something—big! Like—like deer—look, there must be fifteen or twenty!"

Trees shaded movement until the herd moved in the open. Sun glistened on the surface of antlers; their size was massive as the herd seemed to move as one.

Grissom slowed the car, bringing it to a stop in the middle of the road. "Look closer—it's elk."

"They are beautiful," Sara whispered as the herd moved out of the trees and along a ridge. They fanned out over the hillside like a brown stream; the larger animals providing a protective circle for smaller ones.

Grissom asked, "What do you think? Beautiful place, isn't it?"

Sara squeezed his hand, replying, "Yes, it is."

After watching the elk for fifteen minutes, he drove on, stopping at a small convenience store that advertised "Beer-Bait-BBQ" on a large white sign. It took several minutes for Grissom to pick out fishing flies and while those were being discussed and bagged, Sara cruised around the store. She stopped in front of a stack of hats and caps, pulling one of the caps off the rack.

"Get the cap," Grissom said as he came up behind her. "You'll need it to protect that cute nose you have. From a hook."

She giggled as she tried on a blue one. "You need one, too." Glancing upward, she reached for a stack of hats. "No—not a cap—you need a hat!" She giggled again as she placed a white cowboy hat on his head. Her mouth twisted as she removed it, replacing it with a wide-brimmed straw hat. "Definitely this one." Her hands swept around the edge of the hat as she said with a smile, "This one is perfect."

Grissom paid for the hat, her cap, and the artificial bait, asking if she needed anything else. Shaking her head, she smiled and touched his hat again.

"Perfect—now you look like a fisherman," she said as they left the store.

They drove several more miles, all up hill, before Grissom turned onto a narrow gravel road.

"Are you sure there is a place to fish up here?" Sara asked.

Grissom nodded. "When there's an abundance of water, there are three good-sized ponds. The lower one always has water—and trout—and wildlife. Everything that lives up here shows up for water." He grinned. "You'll see."

A few minutes later, he pulled into an area that sufficed as a parking lot and pointed ahead. "There it is."

A few willow trees grew in clumps along the edge of the water; otherwise, it was high desert, rocky, low-growing scrubs, surrounded by low hills that became mountains several miles away.

"How did you find this place?" Sara asked as she climbed out of the car. "There's not a sign of human activity as far as I can see."

Taking time to pull two rods and a worn box out of the back seat, Grissom answered, "I came for insects and stayed to fish. And there is a small town—a group of people live on up the paved road." He handed her one of the rods. "Have you ever used one of these?"

The look on her face provided his answer. He smiled. "It's fun," he said.

The fun for him was showing Sara how to handle a fly fishing rod. A few minutes into his instruction, she asked, "Is this like—like potential energy?"

Grissom nodded, laughing as he said, "Physics major—yes, it is." He continued handling the rod and letting out line before placing it in her hands. "Not too tight. Keep the handle in line with your arm." Gently, he moved her arm. "Over your head?"

Sara nodded.

"Okay, get ready to move your arm from a ten o'clock position—slowly—until you feel the line moving. Keep your aim steady." He demonstrated using her arm, one arm wrapped around her waist as he stood behind her. "And keep it going in a straight line."

Amazingly, the line sailed across the water. Quickly, he moved her thumb as the line played out. "You've done this before!" He said with a laugh as the fly touched the water.

After a few more instructions, Sara was practicing casting and reeling. He picked up the second rod and stepped several feet away. From the look on Sara's face, he knew she was concentrating—to seriously.

"Lighten up—this is fun," he called to her.

She raised the rod again and made what he considered a near perfect cast across the pond. He watched as the fly touched the water twice. Suddenly, a flash of silver met the fly. With beginners luck, a large trout had caught her fly.

"You got one, Sara!" Grissom shouted, running toward her, dropping his own rod to the ground. In seconds, he was at her side, giving instructions for reeling it in. Sara's face showed priceless surprise—delight spreading her smile.

The fish, hooked and fighting for freedom, slapped the water; it's brightness flashing in the sun.

Just as quickly as the fish had caught the fly, an unnoticed shadow reflected on the pond's surface. Sara and Grissom, unaware of what was sailing above the water, watched the fish until the bird—a large hawk—swooped to the water's surface and grabbed the fish.

Both let out loud screams of surprise as the hawk lifted the fish out of the water with ease. The fishing line followed the bird, reeling out until it suddenly dropped into the water. Their voices quieted to astonished silence as the hawk flapped wings, shook its catch several times, and flew to a grove of trees near the pond's edge.

Sara was first to recover. "It dropped the bait." She reeled in the line to find the small fly still attached and started laughing.

Turning to his battered tackle box, serving a second life after it's time as an official investigation kit, Grissom rummaged around and found binoculars. He said, "I have never—never seen or heard this fish story." Quickly, he searched the trees and handed the binoculars to Sara. "Third tree, up high, you'll find your trout."

Passing the binoculars back and forth, they watched as the female hawk fed her three chicks.

"No one will ever believe this," Grissom finally said.

Sara laughed quietly. She said, "Who knows you fish?"

He chuckled. "A few people."

They picked up the rods and, in companionable silence, resumed their fishing. Grissom was pleased that Sara's quick grasp of the art and nuances of fishing seemed to expand with every cast. Her aim was as true as many anglers had after years of practice, only occasionally tangling the line. And her silence was appreciated. As they moved around the pond, he caught three trout of good-size, showed Sara how to release the fish back into the water with little harm, and gave her a few pointers for selecting spots for fishing by watching the surface of the pond.

Truth told, he watched her more than he watched the pond. She had a graceful arc that was natural; her aim was almost always straight and true. And, by the time he had caught and released his third catch, he realized his pleasure came in watching her, not in catching fishing.

Late in the afternoon, when a small herd of wild horses appeared on the opposite side of the pond, they packed away the rods and fishing tackle and watched what nature revealed in cooling temperatures. They found a spot, leaned back against a rock, drank water from bottles and ate energy bars and apples.

The sun was setting behind western mountains, lighting the landscape with a pinkness that caused them to look upward at the vast Nevada sky, waiting for stars to appear. Dozens of birds played around the water's edge. The same hawk returned, sailing several times over the pond before grabbing another fish.

When Sara shivered, Grissom said, "We should have left long ago."

"But the stars are beautiful!"

He wrapped his arm tightly around her shoulders. "Might be a blanket in the car." Then he kissed her and Sara forgot about the cool temperatures as her body responded.

Grissom stopped kissing her, holding her face with both hands. "I'm happier than I've been in years, Sara."

"Say it again," she said, smiling.

Chucking, he said, loudly, "I'm happier than I've been in years, Sara." He pulled her to his chest. "I love you, Sara Sidle." His laughter filled her ears. "Say it—I want to hear it under the stars—not just under the covers."

Sara laughed, hugging him to her. "I love you, Gil Grissom. Not just in bed—but up here under the stars—making out like teenagers!"

Together, they got up, holding hands, and walked slowly back to the car, happy to be together.

A/N: More to come...on CSI timeline, we are almost up to 'Grave Danger'! Thank you for reading and a special thanks for reviewing!