A/N: Enjoy! The beginning of this chapter could have been a deleted scene, we don't know! We always appreciate hearing from you!

Gil Grissom's Romance

Chapter 22

Grissom was not a fan of sushi but he pushed open the door and entered the small restaurant. He'd had to ask Greg where to find Sara and immediately he saw her at the bar. Their eyes met before the door closed behind him.

As he slid onto the bar stool beside her, she said, "I've never seen you here."

"First time," he said.

"What are the chances?"

Grissom grinned. "Greg mentioned you'd be here."

Sara returned her eyes to her plate, lifted a piece of sushi into her mouth and chewed slowly.

Removing a menu from a small metal clip, he ran his finger along the list of 'daily specials' before asking, "How's the octopus? Oh, I almost forgot. You're not a pescatarian—you're a vegetarian."

Sara smiled, recognizing a tease, and said, "Tofu's good."

A grimace crossed his face, quickly replaced by a smile. "I prefer to eat tofu at home." He pointed to her plate, asking, "What are you eating?"

"Buddha roll—it's spicy. Mango salsa roll—it's spicy, too." She pointed to three other pieces of sushi, saying, "Mushroom roll, Peanut roll, and Hawaii roll—you'll like those."

"You don't think I can handle spicy?"

Sara bit her lip, suppressing a smile. "I think you can handle spicy a whole lot better than you can handle a cat fight."

The sushi chef arrived, took Grissom's order which included the Mango Salsa Roll and two Hawaii Rolls. Then he turned to Sara, eyebrows raised.

He said, "You shouldn't…"

Sara interrupted, "Let my jealousy gene get the upper hand."

Grissom chuckled. "We both have to work with Sofia—and she's a good detective."

Tucking her head downward, Sara took another piece of sushi, carefully dipped it in soy sauce, and then lifted it, holding it between them. She said, "You know she's—you know she'd like to get you in bed."

As she placed the food in her mouth, he surreptitiously glanced around at the empty tables and placed his hand on her thigh; he smiled, saying, "She's not the one I love." Sara's eyes widened in surprise. His eyes brightened; he smiled. "Eat. We've got work to do."

Sara smiled as she took chop sticks and picked up the Mango Salsa roll. "Try this."

Grissom let her place the sushi in his mouth. As he chewed, she said, "We're being brave or stupid, you know."

"We are the only people here," he said after he swallowed. His hand patted her leg before he placed it on the counter. "But we'll be professional."

She nodded. "Why'd you track me down?"

He shrugged. "I—I just wanted to see you—away from the lab."

This time, Sara laughed. Leaning near his ear, she whispered, "Do not lie to me! Your desk is stacked two feet deep. Everyone in the city is calling your phone—so don't tell me you wanted to see me!"

Just then his phone buzzed with an incoming call. Frowning, he answered it, listened more than he spoke, and, after the call ended, he said, "I'm sorry—I've got to get back."

Raising his hand to the sushi chef, he said, "I'll take mine to go."

As his food was packed into a small box, he reached for Sara's bill. When she started to object, he said, "It's on me. See you back at the lab." He turned to leave and then turned back to her. Softly, he said, "When you get angry at me, I feel closer to you."

Sara's mouth fell open, taken by surprise at his words.

Grissom grinned and winked. "Later…" He turned and left the sushi bar.

Sitting alone, she shook her head and ate the last piece of sushi. She knew she loved him but if she lived with him for one hundred years, he'd still be a mystery—a puzzle for her to figure out.

Later, when she was cataloging dozens of bullets being collected, Grissom showed up at her side, asking her to help him in the alley. She did by throwing a gun onto a roof, proving a gun could 'disappear' only to reappear seconds later.

Hours passed before Sara let herself into Grissom's condo. As she looked around, she felt like a intruder, but at the same time, she was happy—intrigued—by the place that was so intimately connected to Grissom.

She stepped out of her shoes, made her way across the spacious floor and into the bathroom adjacent to the beautiful bedroom where she kept her belongings. A long, hot shower was a luxury, she thought as she lathered her body and rinsed away hours of tension. Feeling much better after the shower, she pulled on her kimono, grabbed one of the soft throws folded over a chair, and headed to the sofa. This was where she felt close to him, she thought as she snuggled her nose into the fabric. Surrounded by his things, she felt she had a secret understanding of the man she loved. She felt the same way when in his office at the lab.

That thought brought a frown to her face; she should have been nicer to Sofia but then, Sofia had no business in the lab while she was officially on administrative leave. And Sara knew Sofia would love to get Gil Grissom in bed—something Sofia had never kept as a secret—bragging about how she had undressed in front of Grissom one night. Quietly, Sara laughed, wrapping herself in the coverlet; Grissom had not chosen Sofia. In minutes, she was asleep.

Before Grissom unlocked the door, his phone chirped with a message; another dead body with suspicious circumstances. Standing outside, he made a short phone call before opening the door. He smiled when he saw Sara asleep on the sofa. It was her second favorite place to sleep; the last place she would be was his bed.

He did not understand why she would not move into his bedroom, but at least she was living in his condo. As he toed off his shoes, his thoughts played again—his bedroom, his condo. His hand reached out to the wall to support his weight as he removed his socks. He needed a quick shower before heading to the dead body at Caesars.

Tiptoeing across the room, he closed the bedroom door and headed to the shower, attempting to be a quiet as possible. As he quickly showered and dressed, he returned to his thoughts. It was his condo, his bedroom; he looked around the room—it was his furniture, his love of insects that decorated the walls, his sheets on the bed—everything in the room—in the condo—belonged to him. He finished dressing and went back into the living room and looked around.

His chuckle turned into a groan, finally realizing why the woman he loved preferred to sleep in another bedroom. She would make love to him in his bed yet a few hours later, he'd find her in the second bedroom where he'd join her for the rest of the night. Shaking his head at his own stubborn, clueless existence—never once had he suggested that Sara make changes. He turned around and opened the door of the second bedroom.

Turning on the light, he noticed, not for the first time, that she had made few changes to the room other than a few photographs by the bed. He made a despondent chuckle as he shook his head; no one like an old fool, he thought. Closing the door, he padded over to the sofa and knelt beside Sara. He watched her for several minutes and then kissed her softly on her forehead.

A second passed before Sara's eyes flickered open; a smile formed immediately.

"You're home."

He pushed her over and sat on the sofa beside her. "Not for long. Got a body at Caesars."

She lifted her head, saying, "I'll go with you."

"No, no. I've called Warrick." Gently, he helped her sit up, pulling her against his shoulder. "Stay here—no, not here—sleep—in bed."

"I know you are tired—it won't take me a minute to dress."

"No, I want you here—if I need you, I'll call. But get some sleep." He kissed her again, on the lips, tenderly nibbling at her lower lip before letting go of her mouth. "Sleep in my room—please. Be there when I get home."

Sleepily, Sara nodded. They both stood and walked to the bedroom, arms around each other. A quick glimpse at the front of her robe and he realized it was all she wore. As he tucked her in bed, he asked, "Will you be here when I return? Please."

"I'll be here." Her head settled onto the pillow, and then her eyes flew open. "But if you need me, call." Taking a deep breath, she smiled. "I can't believe I'm missing this one."

A few hours later, Warrick Brown closed his case and turned to his supervisor before saying, "If we're done here, I want to do a little shopping before heading home."

Grissom said nothing, but lifted his eyebrow.

Warrick laughed, saying, "You know—all that sparkle and silk downstairs—Tina find out I've been here and didn't bring home a little 'surprise'—I'd be sleeping on the sofa for a week!"

A grunt slipped out of Grissom's mouth. "She likes that kind of thing."

"You better believe it—all women like surprises," Warrick said with a laugh.

Grissom slowed his movements for a purpose, making two trips to his vehicle, and, returning to the main floor of the casino, he checked out the shops along the shopping promenade. Walking the length of the mall, he did not see Warrick in any of the stores—and it gave him an opportunity to check out merchandise. He passed the designer clothes, the leather handbags and luggage, paused at a jewelry display, but continued on.

He smiled when he saw the store at the corner of the promenade recognizing the name. And in less than twenty minutes, he was leaving the store with a gift-wrapped package. The clerk had been very helpful—he chuckled—she was probably called an associate or an accomplice with the prices of the merchandise.

The bedroom was dark when he returned; taking a few steps toward the bed, he frowned when he realized Sara was moving restlessly on the pillows. She was asleep but making sounds of protest. He knew at once she was in the grip of a nightmare—not the first time in their relationship, he sat on the bed and took her in his arms.

"Sara, wake up, honey. You are dreaming again."

Sara's eyes opened as she came awake; for an instant her eyes were unfocused, and then she said, "Gil? You're back."

"You were having a bad dream," he said. "Want to talk about it?" He pulled her into his arms. He knew her answer.

She shook her head. "It's just a dream—all confusion—I'll—I'll sleep in the other room."

"No, you won't," he said as he eased her back onto the pillow. "You'll stay here—with me—please."

She did not protest or resist as he pulled the covers up but said, "I'm a restless sleeper—you know that," she said.

Standing up, he smiled. "Not all the time." He reached for the package he'd placed on the bed as he came into the room. "You have a gift—a surprise." When she saw the gold colored embossed paper, her eyes widened. Quickly, he said, "I was told that women love surprises."

Pushing up, she took the gift, saying, "Gil—this—this is expensive! I've never even walked into the store."

"Open it."

Carefully, slowly, she lifted the edges of the paper and opened the small box. The smile on her face grew as she raised her eyes to his several times while removing the paper. Finally, she reached between tissue paper and lifted the pale pink lace.

"Oh, Gil—when will I wear these?" She held the delicate lace panties between her fingers and lifted her hands to eye-level. "I—I've never felt anything like this—it's like touching a cloud."

Pulling his shirt over his head, his face appeared; his eyes sparkled with laughter as he said, "Now—and then I get to take them off." His shirt dropped to the floor as he continued to undress. By the look on her face, he decided she'd forgotten her nightmare.

"Come here," she whispered, reaching arms for him. The robe was already loose as her arms went around him.

He touched the soft swell of her breast, brushing the fabric away, already aroused simply by being with her. His plans, his willpower, his intentions disappeared as her arms pulled him into the bed, as her lips met his, as her legs parted and he lowered himself between her thighs. His fingers found the sensitive bud of female flesh; his palm cupped against her as his fingers explored and caressed.

Her touch was like a warm drug on his skin, soothing, teasing, exploring with promising intimacy. She stroked his back and dug her fingers into muscles of his butt.

As he pushed his erection against her thigh, he muttered, "We forgot the panties."

The laugh he heard was enough to set him on fire; he surged into her warm body. Instinctively, she tightened around him. He moved quickly, an overpowering need putting his actions into a reflection of hers.

A soft cry of "Gil" came from Sara as she arched against him. It was enough to push him over the edge. Every muscle in his body tightened as he poured himself into her. He held her close as he shuddered, feeling her tremors ripple through her—and then he was lost.

A thin stream of light had managed to pierce the room when Grissom woke. He tightened his arm around Sara, smiling that she was still tucked against him. Exactly where he wanted her to be. The sweet curve of her bottom was cuddled against his hip; her foot was tucked between his feet. His hand cupped her breast.

To him, it was a simple pleasure, he thought—having the woman he loved beside him was deeply satisfying.

A/N: Thank you! We'll return with a new chapter after the holidays!