Chapter 25
January 1, 2008
Even knowing she wouldn't be wearing them long, Sara slipped into her pajamas before drawing the curtains and settling on the bed. It wasn't that she was shy exactly, but it had been a while since she had been naked in front of Grissom and the thought of laying there without clothes on made her more than a little nervous.
Grissom emerged from the bathroom on a cloud of soap scented steam. A grin split his face when he saw her lounging on the bed, propped up by her pillows.
"I…uh…wasn't sure about the dress code." His eyes sparkled as they trailed over her bare arms and shoulders before sliding down the length of her legs exposed by the boy shorts she was wearing. Her skin was luminescent in the soft light of the lamp, her hair damp and curling wildly. And when she smiled he felt his heart skip a beat.
With a shrug, Sara let her eyes slide over him, taking in his baggy t-shirt and blue and white striped boxers. "It's a come as you are party. And you look pretty good to me."
"And you…are a vision."
Sara's eyes were soft and her smile warm as she beckoned him to her. Silently, Grissom crossed the room and climbed on the bed. Stretching out on his side, he watched as she slid down to lie facing him. They stayed like that for a long time, neither wanting to be the one to make the first move, neither of them knowing how. So many things were the same, but so many more were different.
"Where's Hank?" Sara inched closer
Grissom, too, moved closer. "Under the coffee table, pouting, I imagine."
"We can always let him in later." Sara reached out and placed a hand on his cheek, reminding herself just how soft his beard was.
Absently, Grissom shook his head as he trailed a finger along her collar bone. "Not today. Today belongs to me…to the two of us."
Her thumb slid over his lips just before her mouth found his. With a sigh, Sara settled against him. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her tight, his thigh moving to nestle between hers. One slim hand covered his heart, the fingers twisting in the material of his shirt. Her other arm was around his waist, holding him close. The kiss was filled with the heat they both remembered, the heat which was always just beneath the surface of their relationship. Underneath that, its roots holding them both firmly in place, was the love they had grown into. And the fire of attraction burned so much hotter for the emotions that fueled it.
After a while, Grissom's lips left hers to slide along the delicate skin of her jaw and lower to the smooth column of her neck. Still, he made no move to undress her; or she him. Each seemed content to let the need build, to savor each moment, each touch. Long minutes passed when the only sound was the soft squelch of their mouths melding, of lips finding a new patch of skin to taste; long minutes of knowing how right it felt to be where they were and remembering how desperate the days had been while they were apart.
"I need to touch you." Sara's words were whispered against his temple, followed by the soft press of her lips.
She felt his smile against the curve where her neck met her shoulder. "You are touching me."
This time her lips grazed his eyebrow. "Your skin, Gil. I need to feel your skin." Her hands found the hem of his shirt and slipped underneath it, stroking over his stomach and higher until her palms rested flat against his chest. With a quiet groan, she murmured, "You feel so good."
With some clumsy maneuvering, Grissom managed to help Sara work his shirt over his head. He flung the garment off the bed and was in the process of wrapping his arm around her when Sara pressed her lips to the spot just over his heart. Her mouth was warm and soft and her tongue left a trail of fire on his skin.
With a gentle press of her hand on his shoulder, Sara pushed him onto his back and ranged over him. Her hair, shorter than when she'd left, curtained her face and brushed over his bare skin as she nipped and nibbled her way from the hollow of his throat to his waistband.
"Need you," she mumbled against the spot just below his navel. "Love you," vibrated over his left nipple. "Missed you," hissed along the inside of his elbow. "Want you," whispered against the freckles dusted across his collar bone.
Grissom's hands were tangled in her hair, his fingers tightening against her scalp with each press of her mouth, while his soft moans rumbled up from his chest to dance along her skin like a silken caress. Tugging gently, he brought her lips to his, kissing her until they were both breathless. Never releasing her mouth, he rolled until she was under him, his hips settling in the junction of her thighs. And then it was his turn to taste her.
With hands that shook, he removed her shirt, baring her to his hungry gaze. Then slowly, as if he were giving her time to protest, he bent his head and placed a soft kiss on a nipple, smiling at her gasp. Again, he lowered his head, licking the pink tip before finally drawing it between his lips.
"Gil." His name was a sigh filled with longing. Sara's back arched, pressing against his seeking mouth. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, her fingers finding purchase in the firm muscles.
Time lost all meaning. Its only measurement found in the slide of skin on skin. Quiet moans and sweet sighs filtered through the still air, stoking the fire burning between them. Clothing disappeared and the room was filled with the scent of sex; earthy and hot and sweet. Their bodies moved together in a sensual dance, bending and twisting with the rhythm of long time lovers.
Curled on their sides, each giving and receiving pleasure, the two of them wrapped around each other like the classic yin yang. Different but equal, complementing and transforming, becoming stronger through the sharing of themselves.
Sara, rising above him, her hips rocking back and forth as she rode him.
The broad plane of Grissom's back, muscles bunching, hips rising and falling between her legs. Sara's long limbs wrapped around him, pulling him close. His lips on her neck, her breasts. Her muscles stretching to accommodate the velvet press of him. The slow slide of her foot over his calf. Her lips along his jaw, tasting the saltiness of his sweat. His tongue lapping at the hollow of her throat. His breath brushing over her ear.
Murmured words ghosted through the room. Words of love and devotion. Moans and pleas and soft curses. Prayers of thanks and promises neither was sure they could keep.
Sara's climax was teased from her by the gentle press of his fingers against her most sensitive spot. Her muscles clutched at him, rippling along the length of his hardness, her hips rising to meet his, taking him deeper and deeper until his body seemed to meld with hers. Grissom's climax was groaned out against the crook of her neck, his body throbbing as he spilled inside her.
They slept then, entwined. The need sated for a moment, both of them gave in to their physical and emotional exhaustion. Sara awoke a few hours later to the feel of Grissom hard and ready against her buttocks. With a sleepy smile and a contented sigh, she guided his hand from her stomach to the juncture of her thighs before letting her own hand glide up to tease at her nipples. Slowly, gently, he rubbed circles over the little bundle of nerves until she was ready for him. Then he entered her, pushing forward until his coarse hair tickled the firm flesh of her behind.
They made love with his lips skating along the nape of her neck and over the curve of her shoulder. His fingers tangled in the curls between her legs, brushing lightly over her clit. He came first, his cock swelling and pulsing inside her, his body stiff and trembling with the force of his pleasure. But his fingers didn't stop their ministrations. He teased her with the flick of a fingernail, the press of his thumb, the sweep of a finger. When she came, his name trembled on her lips as she convulsed around his softening cock, her entire body shaking with the force of her orgasm.
"Sara," he murmured against her cheek before laying a soft kiss there. "If I didn't say it before, I'm glad you're here."
He felt her smile against his lips. "I wouldn't have guessed." Her teasing tone brought an answering smile to his lips.
"I am nothing if not discreet."
"Baby, discreet is your middle name." She felt more than heard his chuff of laughter, groaning as the quick movement caused him to slip from her body. Rolling in his arms, Sara pressed a kiss to his chin. "Are you hungry?"
Nodding, he let his thumb ghost over her lips. His eyes grew dark and he felt desire coil once again in his belly as her tongue darted out. He knew she tasted her own essence on his skin and the thought had his cock twitching. "Sara, I'm not as young as I used to be."
"Huh?" Her voice was low and throaty and full of confusion. Then she realized what she had done and a blush heated her cheeks. "Oh…um…sorry."
"Don't be. It's very sexy." His eyes were on her mouth as she licked her lips. "You are very sexy," he rasped out.
Sara's mouth found his and she kissed him languidly, thoroughly. Pulling back, she licked her kiss swollen lips once again. "How about Thai?"
Grissom drew in a calming breath and mentally cursed his need for recovery time. "Sounds good."
"I'll shower and then call it in." Sara slipped from his embrace and out of the bed. She was halfway to the bathroom when his voice stopped her.
"Sara?" She turned and raised an eyebrow in question. "We'll continue this later?"
With a saucy grin she ran a hand gracefully over her side and along the curve of her hip. "Count on it."
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It is late. The waning moon is nothing more than a sliver in the dark sky. The stars, usually barely discernible amidst the neon and streetlights, wink overhead like thousands of tiny beacons guiding my way. The street is quiet, most of the houses dark, as I direct the car further into the neighborhood. I am taking a big risk just by being here, very possibly the biggest so far.
The house is nondescript; a stucco box with a small patch of dead grass for a front yard. The color is indeterminate in the darkness, everything becoming nothing more than varying shades of gray. I slow down and double check the address to make sure I have the right place before continuing down the street.
As I cruise along the next block, I am consumed with the knowledge of what I am about to do. And for the first time I feel a hint of fear. It skitters along my spine, leaving me on edge. All my senses are alive and vying for my attention. Every sound is amplified a thousand times; the hiss of the tires on the asphalt, the rasp of the air filling my lungs, the cadence of the engine as I accelerate are all screaming in my ears. The glow of the dashboard lights seems preternaturally bright, hurting my eyes. I can smell my own fear, sweaty and alive.
I pass the house once more, checking the ones around it for signs of life. Still the street is dark, everyone locked inside against the cold. Tomorrow is the day they return to work, to school, to the reality of their day to day lives. None of them are worried about what is happening outside the safety of their own homes.
On the third pass, I douse my headlights at the stop sign and roll slowly down the empty street. Quietly, I turn into the driveway. Now I can see a light on in the back of the house. Probably the kitchen. Where else would Elizabeth be?
I ease the car to a stop, only applying the brakes at the last possible moment. For a moment I simply sit in the car. With the engine off, I can hear the thudding of my heart. Fear has turned my guts to liquid. The fact that I always find that phrase trite when reading it in books does not escape me. Eyes darting around, looking for danger in every shadow, I pray. I pray for strength and stealth. I pray for wisdom and patience. I pray for the soul of Elizabeth Bethune. When I have calmed myself, I get out and ease the door closed.
From there, it is only a few steps to her door. And then she is opening it, a confused frown on her face.
"Elizabeth." I plaster on a smile that has left more than one woman swooning. "I'm so sorry to disturb you this evening."
"Doctor Rosenthal? What are you doing here?" Shock and confusion war in her eyes as she peers out at me.
I place my hand on the door jamb, invading her space a little, forcing her back into the house. "I've been worried about you. I fear I have upset you and I wanted to talk to you about it."
Her confusion is replaced by another emotion. I dare say it resembles guilt. Poor, poor Elizabeth. If she only knew that I know all about her little indiscretion. But she will know soon enough.
Shaking her head as if to clear it, she steps back and holds the door open. "Please, come in."
I step over the threshold and she closes the door behind me. It is just that easy. She is so trusting, so deluded. I can see the excitement dancing in her mud colored eyes. Anger rips through me, white hot and ice cold. I want to slap her, to rip her apart with my bare hands. She has put everything in jeopardy...Everything…with her stupid simpering and her need for attention. It takes all my self-control to tamp it down, to keep the smile on my face.
The house smells like fresh coffee and overcooked eggs, smells I have come to associate with her. My resolve wavers for just a fraction of a second. But it is a mere blip on my radar. I am here for a reason. Elizabeth is a threat to my mission and I must deal with her as I would any other threat.
It is so simple. A cup of coffee in the living room. A request for milk. A few drops in her cup while she is out of the room. And she is putty in my hands. I manage to get her in my car and we leave just as quietly as I arrived. I try not to cringe when she places her hand on my arm and smiles at me. Her thick fingers stroke over the fabric of my jacket and I shudder inside.
The lights along the strip illuminate her face as her head lolls against the headrest. With her eyes closed and the frown lines relaxed away I can almost see the woman she could have been with a little bit of self-control. I guide the car through several turns, leaving the sea of neon in our wake before turning into a parking lot pock marked with potholes. I pull just past the office window, hoping the car will get lost in the shadows. I reach for the door handle and feel a hand on my thigh.
"If you wanted sex we could've stayed at my house." Elizabeth's words are slurred.
Carefully, I clasp her wrist and move her hand away from my leg. "Just be patient. I have so many surprises in store for you."
She nods slowly as if the movement is something she remembers seeing, but has never actually performed. "I like surprises."
"Wait here." I am out of the car and heading for the office before her drug addled mind can even begin to comprehend my intentions.
The desk clerk is dirty and greasy and leering at me in the harsh fluorescent lighting. The cigar clamped in the corner of his mouth has burned down to a nub that is dark and wet with spit. He is covered with hair, black and curling, on every inch of skin exposed by his undershirt. The room is cool but he is sweating, rivulets running along his cheeks and jowls
"I need a room please." My voice sounds calm despite the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
"See you found yourself a tubby." His head jerks in the direction of my car and his grin reveals a set of badly neglected teeth. He wipes the sweat off his forehead and, with the same hand, pushes a form across the counter to me. "Don't suppose this'll be on a credit card."
Shaking my head and ignoring his knowing chuckle, I quickly fill out the form. Shoving it back toward him I wait patiently while he scans the information.
Once again he looks at me, his eyes flat and hard in his puffy face. "Alrighty, Mr. Gil Grissom, that'll be fifty-seven dollars." I pass the cash over to him and take the key he holds out. With a wink he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. I put you in the back on the ground floor. Room one thirty-five. Wouldn't want anybody to see that sweet ride of yours sitting out here."
I mumble my thanks and hurry out to the car. Elizabeth is asleep in the passenger's seat, snoring softly. I drive to the back of the building and retrieve a bag from my trunk. Placing it in the room, I return to the car for her. Once inside the room, I help her lie down on the bed. With the door locked and the curtain drawn, I get to work.
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The coffee table was covered with autopsy reports, copies of death certificates and photos of the dead women. Sara was sifting through them, desperately searching for anything that seemed out of place. They had been at this for hours, talking and theorizing and finding a rhythm that went far deeper than the one they shared in bed.
"You know…" Sara's voice trailed off when she turned to look at Grissom and caught him staring at her. His lips were turned up in a smirk and his eyes danced with mischief. "What?"
Without a word, he wrapped a firm hand behind her neck and pulled her into his kiss. His lips were warm and dry, his touch gentle, and she settled against him with a quiet sigh. Slowly, he pulled away.
"I've missed this," he gestured at the mess on the table with his free hand. "I've missed you in a lot of ways, but I never realized how much I missed this until now."
With haunted eyes and a sad smile playing around her mouth, Sara climbed onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Gil…"
He placed a hand over her lips. "Shhhhhhhh. Not now. Not tonight."
Sara kissed his fingers, then his palm. "Okay," she whispered.
For long minutes they simply studied one another, neither of them sure what the future would bring but content for the night to live in the present. His gaze, dark with longing and filled with love, mirrored hers. It was Grissom who finally broke the silence.
His eyes swept over her face, lingering on her mouth. "Kiss me, Sara."
And she did.