A/N: Continuing with this story of Gil Grissom's romance-sorry for the delay but with the official end of the series, it seems we had distractions.

Gil Grissom's Romance

Chapter 19

Sara had left him a note in his vehicle saying she was going to the gym. She had to do something; the frustration of the case had left her twisted in knots and a workout with a boxing bag and weights might unwind her.

Grissom had stayed at the hospital with Nick Stokes until he was certain Nick would recover—physically; the rest of his recovery might take months. Mrs. Stokes was at her son's bedside, refusing to leave the chair, quietly waiting for Nick's eyes to open.

The adrenaline rush gone, Grissom leaned his head against the head rest, breathing deeply, knowing if he closed his eyes he would sleep. A few minutes later, he was driving home, not remembering how he had gotten on the street but knowing he was going in the right direction.

After pulling into the garage, he sat in his vehicle a few minutes before getting out and going into his condo thinking how fast life could change. Only one thing got him out of the car and to his door, and, when he opened the door, his sense of smell told him—Sara was there.

He did not remember how he got across the room, but she was there, leaning into him, her forehead touching his as she whispered:

"It could have been you."

His hands threaded through her clean-smelling hair. "Don't go there, Sara." His mouth buried into her hair, seeking her taste. "I—I couldn't think about other possibilities."

As if they were being chased by the ghost of Walter Gordon, they stumbled, half-ran while holding each other, to the bedroom.

Grissom kissed her hands and mouth, her chest and the tops of her breasts before reaching the bed. Tugging her shirt over her head, he kissed her stomach, her breasts and thighs, and then felt her hands loosening his belt as they scrambled onto the bed. His mouth was warm and firm, stirring with desire.

The steady, irresistible rise of passion was a relief; they both understood this. Sara wrapped arms around him willing to give. Generous, selfless, sweet, Grissom linked his fingers with hers as he deepened the kiss.

Slowly, he undressed her, watching as her breath caught, released, and caught again when he touched her skin. They seemed to sink into the bed like lovers in a pool. He felt her response to his palms sliding over her, to his mouth roaming where it pleased.

When she rose to him, he thought, no one else, no one else had ever unlocked him this way. He felt her arch of welcome; he heard her moan merge with his and knew when she reached the crest of orgasm.

"I love you, Sara," he whispered seconds before his body shook with the same passion that was exploding in hers.

Several minutes later, he laid his lips on hers, gently kissing her. Again, "I love you." He kept his eyes open and on hers, watching as tears shimmered along her lashes. "Say it." He ran a fingertip along her jaw line; his thumb wiped the line of moisture away.

Sara's eyes remained closed; the corners of her mouth crept up in the beginning of a slow smile. She said, "People say all sorts of things in the heat of passion."

Chuckling softly, he said, "Heat of passion? Say it. It's not so hard to say—believe me." He lifted a lock of her hair and twisted it around his fingers. "I like hearing you say it." Releasing her hair, his fingers made a lazy stroke across her cheek. In an easy move, he shifted his weight and tucked her tightly against his body. It was an enjoyable position, he thought, to have her slender body fitted into the angles and crooks of his, her shoulder nestled against his chin.

"You know I love you," she whispered as her hand brought his hand to her mouth.

"I like to hear you say it." He nuzzled his lips against her neck. "Move in with me."

She made a heavy sigh. "I need to have—to have a place of my own—for a while longer."

"Move in—I want you here. All the time. I want all of your things here." He caressed her face, stroking his fingertips across her bottom lip. "We can move your things—we can fit everything in here."

He heard her soft laugh. "In a month."

"Why a month? We can do it in a few days."

Another laugh before she said, "In a month—give me a month to—to—decide." She paused, taking a shaky breath before continuing, "I'm afraid I'll screw this up."

"No, you won't. No, we won't."

Lacing her fingers between his, she said, "You underestimate me, Gil."

His breath was warm against her skin as he laughed again. "No, you underestimate yourself, honey."

It was that, she realized, as she kissed each of his fingers. A simple faith in her, more than she had in herself, that made her love this man. "No one else would say that to me," she said. "Maybe that's why I…"

Another quiet laugh as he kissed her shoulder, "Keep going—almost there."

With his words, she turned to face him; a smile growing across her face. "You push me." She narrowed her eyes. His were that calm blue, a little amused, and, she realized—strained, worried. She wanted to trust, wanted to believe, wanted all the soft, warm feelings that were flowing through her body to last forever. She wanted him to love her. To be loved by an honest man who made promises and kept them. Who would care for her even when she didn't deserve it.

Her fingers threaded through his hair. She kissed his chin and moved to his mouth. Their arms tightened around the other. Sara's foot stroked along Grissom's ankle; she pressed her cheek against his.

"I'll move," she whispered.

Almost instantly, she felt his muscles ripple along his back. "I won't let you change your mind." His lips nibbled at her ear before he said, "I'll rent a truck."

This time, she laughed. "I won't need a truck, dear. Most of what I have will fit in the back of my car."

He pulled away from her—an inch—looking at her with surprise. "What about your furniture?"

Sara laughed again. "It's cheap—or found—the bed's lumpy."

Nodding, he agreed. "We'll get new stuff—you can fix the other bedroom like you want it."

Lines creased her forehead when she asked, "What about your mother? She decorated your extra bedroom for her visits—what now?"

Grissom smirked; his mouth twisted in a grin. "She hasn't stayed here in two years. She has friends at the college she enjoys visiting." He kissed her forehead, her nose, and her chin before placing his lips on hers; a tender, sweet kiss, caressing her face with his hand. "You can—you can do what you want with the room—make it yours." Chuckling, he tightened his arms around her. "But sleep with me—please."

Her dark eyes met his; reflected back in his eyes was the humanity, the kindness and care that he had almost forgotten existed in the human race.

A/N: Thank you for reading-and remember-we love hearing from you. More to come...