A/N: A new chapter! Thank you for staying with us on this story!

Gil Grissom's Romance

Chapter 23

For as long as Grissom could remember, the city of Las Vegas and Clark county had sponsored a lavish 'celebration' party for employees of all governmental agencies. Several hundred people showed up every year for food, dancing, door prizes, and, of course, the obligatory politicking that occurred at such events.

Food was plentiful, wine flowed freely; decorations, prizes, and the entertainment were top-notch, mostly provided by the casinos and wealthy industries to "show appreciation" for local civic employees.

Grissom hated the parties; too many people and too few had anything to say. But every year, he showed up for a couple of hours. They had been so busy working that the date had slipped up on him. The night shift had not caught a break in weeks with one heavy case after another causing everyone to put in overtime.

He fingered the heavy card-stock invitation. Every year, several employees from the crime lab chose to work instead of attend the fancy dress party—and he already knew who it would be—Sara was always the first to sign up to work.

Leaning back in his chair, he tapped his chin with the invitation. Catherine was always the primary night shift representative and she usually got Warrick or Nick to go too. Sara—Sara hadn't been in—it took a minute for him to count back—since her first or second year in Vegas. Pushing back from his desk and standing, he headed to the break room. A rearrangement of the schedule might be worked out.

Two weeks later, his re-arrangement of the schedule and not-so-subtle plans were the cause of his reflection in a three-mirror wall in a dressing room at one of the posh men's departments in an upscale store. He could see Sara's face behind him.

"This one is fine, great. I'll take it—let's go." Grissom said as he held the coat to a brown suit in front of him.

Sara pursed her lips, moved closer, and patted his cheek. "Try it on." She handed him another suit, a dark blue. "This one—I like blue."

He wanted to complain, but she had agreed to go to the party—thoughtfully given him reasons she should not go; emphasized and reiterated several times a day that they could not be seen as a couple. And she had immediately left him and walked over to a stack of shirts after handing him the suit.

When he stepped out of the dressing room in the dark blue suit, she was waiting with a shirt and several ties.

She angled her head, approving. "My, my, Dr. Grissom, you will be the envy of all the men—and women will be lining up to dance with you."

Giving her an annoyed look, Grissom said, "I'll dance with the mayor's wife and the sheriff's wife—and you."

She gave him a false smile, saying, "You agreed—we dance one time and you have to dance with at least five others!"

He reached out, placed both hands on her head, and pulled her face to his, quickly kissing her. "Agreed. I'm not sure I like Greg being there." Reaching for the red pattern tie, he held it up to his chest.

"Perfect," Sara whispered. "You look good." A genuine smile crossed her face. "Sexy—and don't worry about Greg. He's thrilled to go and already talking about who will be there.

He smirked. "Clothes."

She reached out and checked the waistband. He batted her hand away in a feigned effort at displeasure.

"Turn around—I want to make sure the pants fit your waist and your butt."

He pretended annoyance as she fussed with the pants.

A few minutes later, he was relieved to escape to the dressing room. She had touched him, running her hand over his butt and down the front and he'd had a natural male reaction. Which he did not want her to notice.

Clothes were clothes, he thought, as he removed the suit and dressed in his faded, well-worn jeans. But Sara's touch set off something in him that was surprising and unexpected so he was purposefully slow in redressing.

A week later, Sara insisted that Grissom leave for the party before she dressed. She said, "You have a lot of people to see. Greg and I will be there in an hour."

Grissom went along with her plan. Her dress was red—he was almost certain it was red—but he had gone along with her plan to keep it secret knowing she wanted to surprise him. He was certain Sara was much more excited than she pretended to be.

Once he arrived—and he'd had to trust his car with valet parking because he did not want to ride a shuttle bus—he made his way through the crowds even though he had arrived nearly an hour after the ballroom opened for the party. The music was too loud, he thought; the buffets stretched around for what seemed like miles. Wine was freely flowing but he took sparkling juice. Not about to get flushed and giggly around fellow employees and politicians.

Wandering around, he met plenty of people he knew, briefly engaging in conversation, but he enjoyed watching more than trying to talk with people. Eventually, he found a table well away from the growing crowd; he liked being in the audience.

It wasn't long before two guys joined him—both men he had known for years and both, like him, preferred watching to making an attempt at conversation.

The party was well into its second hour before Grissom made his way to the mayor's reserved table, took a few minutes to have stilted small talk before asking the mayor's wife to dance. The woman was a politician's wife and danced easily, talked softly about nothing, while looking regal.

During the dance, Grissom spotted Sara. Heads turned as she danced—with Greg—and, quickly, he noticed his eyes were not the only ones on the tall, beautiful brunette in a—he would say it was a simple design—red dress; he had been correct. God, he thought, she looked great in a dress as the skirt moved and fluttered around her knees, showing off well-shaped calves.

After the dance, following a few minutes of more small talk with the mayor, Grissom made his way around the ballroom to find Sara. She caught his eye before he arrived but quickly returned to her conversation with a circle of men and women—Grissom recognized several officers and lab techs in the group. And, quickly, he was welcomed into the social group.

The band started playing another song.

Before Grissom knew what was happening, Sara had her hand on his arm, saying, "Smile, Grissom!"

He looked confused. "Why?"

"Because you and I are going to dance!"

The group laughed as Sara took him to the dance floor.

Leaning so her mouth was near his ear, she said, "We'll dance better if you touch me."

"Right." He placed a hand at her waist. "You are beautiful tonight. So is your dress, by the way."

She smiled. "And you look," she paused, "very nice—handsome."

The music was slow—Sara's fingers skimmed down the nape of his neck before settling on his shoulder. And the overwhelming urge to pull her close was dangerous.

"Tell me something." He said as he took her hand.

"What?"

"Talk to me about something—it'll make the dance go quicker."

His words caused her to laugh. She said, "I wish we were home—I'd have that suit off you in a heartbeat."

"I'd peel that dress off and see if you taste like you smell." He waited a beat before adding, "Who thought this was a good idea?"

They managed to get through two more hours of the party before Sara handed her remaining door prize tickets to Greg. "If I win anything, you can have it," she said. "I'm going home to sleep. Do you have money for a cab?"

Greg assured her he could get home."

By the time she reached the door, Grissom had caught up with her. "Ride with me," he said. "We'll pick your car up later."

Sara kept her hands in her lap as Grissom drove but by the time he closed the garage door, they came together in a tidal wave of pleasure. Everything seemed to waken at once as he lifted her off her feet.

He had to touch her, had to feel her flesh under his hands, feeling a sexual rush that made him feel like a teenager. She trembled as they stumbled into the kitchen, making little humming sounds in her throat. He wanted to swallow her whole—the entire night had been one of restricting and suppressing feelings—and now—now, they were alone.

The scent of her slid around him, into him. Her lips brushed over his in a long, slow seductive stroke.

Somehow, they made it to the bedroom.

Grissom's belly tightened with desire as she tugged at his belt. His hands stroked her skin and fingers gently removed the red fabric and let it pool on the floor. Neither wanted to rush, but eagerness became desire, and finally, Sara moved under him, hips arching, hands touching, fingernails gently scraping that aroused him beyond belief.

Their fingers linked as they rolled over the bed, then broke apart to explore. His mouth closed over her firm breast as waves of pleasure flashed and flowed; she was ready and exploded with the plunging of his body into hers. They moved together, quickened the pace, as she cried out, muffling the words against the side of his throat.

Afterwards, with Sara curled against his chest, Grissom ran a fingertip up and down her spine. "I want to hear it again," he said.

"Gil…"

"Say it," he continued the lazy stroking along her back, yet firmly holding her against his body.

Her lips touched his chest with a kiss. "I do love you, Gil Grissom."

He chuckled, softly. "Now, that wasn't so hard." His hand stopped moving and pressed against her back. "What do you think," he whispered, "about looking for another place to live—a place we," he emphasized "we" before he kissed her. "A place we find and make our home." Another soft chuckle, "A place where we share a bedroom and a bathroom—even a closet."

He felt the intake of a sharp breath and after a long moment of quiet, he asked, "What do you think?"

A/N: And, as always, we appreciate hearing from you! Another chapter soon!