A/N: Here's what happened on the swinging bed as we closed out Chapter 12! Little surprise to celebrate May 1!

Epilogue to A Few Days with the Grissoms

Sara giggled. "Just how do you know my panties are purple?" She asked, continuing to work on his buttons. He had been outside when she showered earlier.

"I have secret ways of knowing these things."

She pushed his shirt away. "You smell good." She tasted the skin on his chest with her lips and tongue. "You taste better."

He hummed, busy with her pants. The bed swayed. Desire sent a powerful message. He was already fiercely aroused. He had found cold showers and entomology texts were short term diversions. He chuckled again as he thought of the previous months. He was desperate.

The pants sailed through the air joining his shirt among toys and porch chairs. He tugged at her shirt—one of those with the bra inside. Easy access, he thought, as his fingers circled her breasts. He was careful, gentle, but his favorite part of her was her breasts. Cupping one in his hand, he kissed along her soft swell; her dark crown was already firm against his lips. Her fingertips played in his hair.

"Dear God, woman, you are heaven." He heard a laugh and he had not gotten to those purple panties. He worked downward, placing kisses, tenderly nibbling her skin until he got to the scar. "It's healed well," he murmured.

She tugged his hair. He continued. Control, he vowed. It had been as long for her, this sensual, sexy warm body that curved up to meet his. He slid palms along her hips. When his fingers found the elastic of her panties, he almost lost his edge. He squeezed gently urging her body snugly into his. Her scent—he inhaled her fragrance. His tongue played into the vortex of her most intimate area. The triangle of panties left his hand with a wave.

A little shiver went through Sara. She made a tiny, breathless sound. Her legs parted to give him more room and he touched his tongue to her thigh. This time her fingers tightened in his hair.

"Gil."

He settled between her legs and inhaled, deeply the exquisite feminine fragrance of the sea, of some spice so rare it could not be named. His tongue played; he brought his hand to her center gently working the sensitive folds with his fingers. She was so wet his hand glistened in the low light. Sara's breath came in gasps as her body clenched. Her hands had moved to the sheets covering the bed. Her hips shifted.

"Gil."

He moved, propelling himself above her body feeling the heat generated between bare skin as his fingers touched her in the most intimate way as she twisted against his erection. She was ready. He eased into her body. His hands caught her face and his mouth covered hers.

Sara's hands clutched against the muscles of his back as a sweet tension continued to build. For seconds they moved together until Grissom sensed her impending climax. Her nails dug into his back. She was gone, no longer aware of what was going on around her. A moment later, she softened. Another few seconds and he plunged into that whirlpool of ocean current, collapsing across her breast, his lips against her neck, an arm curved possessively around her.

For long moments they lay quietly, listening to the same night sounds that continued around them. He was aware of her kisses against his temple. At his ear, she whispered, "It works very well."

Only then did he realize the bed was swaying. He heard her giggle—the same sound made by this woman years ago. She had never lost the ability to make him smile when he heard it.

"The panties have to come down before morning."

He lifted his head. She nodded and he looked above where they lay. Near the ceiling, caught by a spar—a piece of wood that stabilized the ropes—were her panties, blowing gently in the breeze made by the moving swing.

And this is The End!