A/N: Thank you for staying with us. And now-for Grissom's return!

Gil Grissom's Romance

Chapter 28

Folding his coat behind his head, Grissom planned to sleep once the plane became airborne but instead, he thought about the four weeks he'd spent teaching. He'd enjoyed every minute of it—even learning how to teach online had been an enjoyable learning challenge- but he preferred face-to-face, seeing the students learn as they worked in the lab or have the 'dawning' moment of understanding a concept. And the department secretary had been his greatest supporter; she knew everything and everyone.

Every week, on Thursday evening, Mrs. Elsa Miller planned a party and no one refused the invitation. Grissom was happy enough to go and quickly found companionable party-goers in professors of biology and literature, mathematics and music, philosophy and psychology. No one was a stranger as music played, voices grew louder, and food and wine was replenished every hour. He had enjoyed four of these gregarious parties and considered each one as a highlight of his sabbatical.

His only regret was Sara. Her absence had affected him in ways he had not felt in a lifetime; a loneliness he no longer wanted, a quietness he did not want to hear. One night he had written her a letter—and then never mailed it, afraid a letter would be noticed when she received it at the lab. Their phone calls had never been long enough and the physical desire to be with each other was almost unbearable. He wanted her in ways he had never—would never—voice. He wanted affection, kindness, and sexy yeses and noes. He wanted to play, wanted to talk, wanted sex, and then he wanted to sleep all wrapped around her in a warm bed.

He tucked those thoughts away as the plane circled Chicago. He had a long layover; he'd find a bookstore and food. Except that changed when he exited the jet way and noticed a flight to Vegas was boarding at the next gate. Without a thought, he asked and ten minutes later he was sitting in an exit row seat, smiling at his new plan to surprise Sara.

The excitement of getting back several hours earlier than planned gave him a new energy level; he entered the lab and found it much as he'd left it. Within minutes, he had to deal with Hodges, who had been one of the alumni enrolled in the online portion of the course. And his excitement diminished again when he saw his desk; mail, files, and paperwork covered the surface. And Sara was on a dumpster run.

Avoiding and postponing, he left the building to help Warrick. He could get an update from Warrick without the calculating David Hodges' version or the personal details of Catherine's life. Sara had given him quick weekly updates but their talks had not included meticulous details of every case or what was happening at the lab. He realized most of the time, he had talked and she had listened.

Finally, he surprised Sara. Not as he planned—and he had almost chased her down the hallway as she had tried to get to the shower. Then all hell broke out with Keppler and hours passed before he got home; even his drive was delayed by a stop at the airport to pick up his late-arriving bags. Finally, he opened the door; his nose told him Sara was near.

She was waiting for him in a short silk robe tied loosely at the waist, hair loose, and brushed back. As she hurried to greet him, his eyes blurred with a vision of long legs, long arms, hands reaching for him. Seeing her stunned him; she was beautiful and sexy and their hug lingered. Her graceful fingers pressed into his back, moving up his spine, pulling them together. Once his arms were around her, he did not let go. As they kissed, her fingers laced into his hair; he felt a smile form on her lips, and he heard a suppressed giggle.

When their lips parted, she laughed, "It's the beard." She kissed his forehead, and then his nose. "I'm going to have some serious beard burn."

He nuzzled her neck as she giggled. "No! Don't make it so obvious!"

After that, his plans for a long hour of artful and romantic seduction did not happen. She led him to the bedroom where she had dimmed lights and folded back bedcovers, and proceeded to undress him before flinging her robe away. After that, everything happened too quickly but was thoroughly fulfilling after four weeks of absence.

He wanted her close; both sprawled across rumpled sheets, and, as soon as he could 'rebound', he wanted to begin at Sara's long neck, the curve at her jaw, the little hollow at the base of her neck—perhaps lower to hide the rash he'd likely cause, he thought—and rediscover all the soft spots, the curve of her elbows and knees, the secret intimate places.

Stretching away from him, saying, "Stay here," Sara wiggled away from him, retrieving her robe from the floor.

"Where's Hank?"

Smiling, she explained, "At the dog sitter. I wanted some time alone—just you and me." As she left him, she said, "He's going to be happy to see you! He's slept with your shoe for a month!"

Grissom had never had a serious relationship before Sara. Yet, truth that had taken an absence to realize, he knew he was no longer content to be alone. After meeting Sara Sidle, who possessed an IQ north of genius level combined with an unconventional beauty, he had been intrigued to the point of convincing her to move to Vegas. It had only taken him several years to figure out what to do next.

He knew Sara loved him in a way that often took him by surprise. And he knew their commitment and the secrecy of their relationship suited her but at some point that would have to change.

He sat up, straightened the bedcovers, wondering what was taking so long.

She was probably preparing something for them to eat, he thought.

Instead of staying in bed, he got up, pulled on boxers and a shirt, and followed Sara into the kitchen where he found her placing a box on one of the small tables.

Glancing at him, a smile playing around her mouth, she said, "I thought you were staying in bed."

"What are you hiding?" He asked as he circled the work island to the table.

"I wanted to wrap it."

"Don't," he said. "I have something for you and it's not wrapped." He opened one of his bags and withdrew a square gold box. "I—I wanted it to be more—more romantic than this."

Sara laughed. "It is romantic—I'm so happy to have you home." She lifted the flaps of the box and motioned for Grissom to look inside. "You are very difficult to buy for, you know."

He frowned as he looked inside the box. It appeared to be a miniature house. Reaching in, puzzlement crossed his face as his fingers touched glass and then he found the bottom.

"What is this?" He asked as he lifted the object. He smiled. "It's a greenhouse!"

Sara reached to help. "It's a herb terrarium."

When they had it on the table, Sara turned to the window, making a space and moving several small pots of greenery. "I got several plants, too."

Watching her, Grissom felt a combination of lust, longing, and love. She was perfect, he thought; smart, graceful, clever, and lusty wrapped in a delicate-looking body that was as strong as steel. He wondered, as his belly tightened, if there was anything more unsettling to a man than perfection in a woman.

Together, they arranged the plants and placed the miniature greenhouse in a window, and then Grissom picked up the gold box. With a grin, he pointed at the bedroom.

When they were back between soft sheets and fluffed pillows, he placed the box between them, saying, "Now you can open it."

Before Sara's hand could cover the top, he touched her face. The blinds were closed but the sunlight glowed around the edges and accentuated the feminine line of her mouth and the beauty of her eyes. When she looked at him, eyes wide, he could see a hesitation—perhaps it was disbelief or wariness.

He kissed her, again, with a longing passion that should dispel all her doubts and her arms went around him, trapping the slim box between them. They laughed as he caught the box.

"You have to open it," he whispered.

She looked at him, color growing in her cheeks as her eyes fixed on his. "It's—it's not a bug, is it?"

"You don't like bugs, dear." He said as he pushed the top off.

Inside, tied to a soft lining, was a round silver disk attached to a black braided ribbon.

"An art student made it—I—I thought it looked like something you'd wear."

"Yes," Sara whispered, "yes, I will." She lifted the necklace, running her thumb over its surface and turning it over. "What's engraved on it?" It was an etching, lightly done, very small, so she held it up get a better look.

Grissom smiled, "It's the state insect—a honeybee." And, pointing to an even smaller engraving below the bee, he said, "the date it was made—while I was there."

"It is beautiful—my kind of insect," she laughed as she placed the ribbon around her neck and, taking a few awkward seconds, she hooked the clasp. "Perfect," she said as her hand covered the disk.

The next thing that happened was what he had dreamed about, had thought about for four long weeks. They were already down to bare skin so he proceeded to kiss her from her throat to her nipples and back to her lips and eyes. Then, turning her, he kissed her back, her hair, her spine, the cleft of her buttocks, and stroked her body with tender fingers as he continued to kiss her. He kissed the inside of her thighs, traced her sex with his tongue, and returned to the smooth taper of her belly and hips before returning to the perfection of her breasts.

Eventually, he looked into the dark brown eyes and knew what it was that made her different from any other woman. Her eyes went into her soul, showing no guile, no fear, no regret, and no doubt about the intentions of her love. Capturing her mouth with his at the same time he pressed into the space between her thighs, he heard only a whisper of sound as her hand gently moved his erection inside her.

Then he was inside her, the feathery touch of her breath against his cheek, her fingers pressed into his back, and he knew they slipped into a valley of green grass, wild flowers, and sun showers that she had created simply by being with him and turning her face to his.

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