Chapter 16

Grissom woke to find Sara staring at him as they lay face-to-face. Amazing how he looked into those chocolate eyes and he felt a rush he couldn't explain. Explainable or not, it felt good. It was kind of scary, but invigorating. He automatically reached for her and placed his hand on her hip, stroking his thumb over her waist. He was becoming very enamored of that hip and before she had time to consider what he was doing, he lifted himself on elbow then leaned down and placed a warm kiss where his hand had been.

"What are you doing?" She laughed at him.

He shrugged his shoulders then lay next to her again. "Appreciating a fine work of art."

"Are you saying my ass is a piece of art?"

"I wasn't kissing your ass—well, figuratively speaking, I guess I was. Technically, it was your hip."

"My hip." Her hand slid up his arm, over his shoulder and then up where she stroked his bearded cheek with her thumb. "So. . .then. . .you don't think I have a nice ass?"

He couldn't stop the smile that tugged at his lips as he yanked her up against him. "I think you've got an amazing "ass."

"Really? I mean, you're not just saying that—right?" She teased.

"I "dream" of those gluteal muscles," he teased back. "I sit and fantasize about running my hands over them for hours. I get an erection when I imagine you in the locker room, bending over to tie your boots and giving everyone in the place a perfect view of just how well your slacks fit you, and I walk up behind you and before you can stand up again, I grab hold of your hips and press myself against those firm globes. Then I open my zipper and pull out my. . ."

"Uh-uh-uh," she warned playfully. "Don't get vulgar. Let's just say you pull out your. . .throbbing desire!"

He chuckled at her. "Okay—I pull out my throbbing stick of desire. . ."

"You?" she cut him off. "I wouldn't call it a "stick," let's call it a. . .utility pole!"

"Are you trying for extra brownie points?" He pressed his enlarging "utility pole" against her and she spread her legs just far enough to allow it to slide between them as they continued to look at one another.

"Well, what would you like to call it?" She asked in a tone that started out normal but when he moved his hips against her, it ended in a sensual moan.

"Do I have to name it?" He laughed at her. "Should I name it "Little Gilly?"

"I like "Bertie." She told him as she squeezed her thighs around him more tightly, this time, bringing a moan of pleasure from him. "Big Bertie!"

"I'm not going to name my penis Bert—or Bertie."

"Oh? But you'd name it "little Gilly?" She laughed at him. "If not "Big Bertie," then how about "Gargantuan Gilbert?"

"I'm not naming it anything other than "Sara's Toy."

"Ahhh," she cooed as she snuggled up against him and reached behind him to place her hand on his more than appealing bottom to give it a squeeze. "That's so sweet. It's like a gift then? Shouldn't we wrap it and put a bow on it?"

"Now you want a bow on it?" He raised a brow as he looked at her, continuing with their banter until she pushed him onto his back and she straddled him as she sat up. She smiled wickedly as she rose up on her knees and reached down to take hold of "said gift" and place it at her entrance.

"No. I want "me" on it," she sighed as she lowered herself.

He lay on his back and watched this vision enveloping him within herself and not for the first time since the arrival of Sophia, wondered just how he was going to manage to protect her from all the office politics that he was sure would come collapsing down around her if they were to find out that he was now over the borderline of propriety. At least, as far as they would be concerned. As he watched her rising and lowering above him, he knew that for him, this was "very" proper—and he was going to see to it that come hell or high water, she was NOT going to be visiting a certain detective the following weekend. He thought perhaps an extra night or two of overtime might be in order for his brunette CSI and he most certainly wasn't referring to Nick or Warrick.

"God, Sara. . ." he moaned as her sheath hugged him exquisitely. "how do you manage to do this to me?"

She slowed her actions as she looked down at him, doubt entering her expression. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Never," he told her as he pulled her down and rolled them onto their sides, meeting her lips with his as he began devouring her.

She answered his kiss as their hands roamed over one another's bodies, brailing one another as he pulled her leg up over his hip and proceeded to pleasure them both with his thrusts and grinds. He could tell she was getting closer as her fingernails scraped down along his side, instigating him to roll even farther until he had her on her back. He lifted himself onto his knees and pulled her hips up, tilting them to accept him fully as he drilled into her. She was such a mesmerizing sight as she lay on the mattress and the sight of her magnificent breasts beckoned to him. He grasped onto them with both hands, allowing her to slide her fingertips over his forearms where she grasped onto him in an effort to stop sliding up the bed with each of his powerful thrusts. When he felt he couldn't get inside of her enough; he felt he wouldn't be satisfied until he was completely consumed by her, he moved his grasp onto her legs and lifted beneath her knees. He could hear the sounds coming from her but he couldn't seem to slow down. She had that effect on him—she always did. God, he hoped he wasn't hurting her then when the loudest sound escaped her throat, he nearly stopped until he felt her spasm around him as she arched her back. The stiffness of her body told him everything he needed to know and soon he was practically seeing stars as he ground into her body and exploded within her heated core.

He didn't want to collapse on top of her in fear that he would hurt her. Instead, he swayed in an effort to remain upright until he felt her grabbing onto his arms again and pulling him down next to her. She turned into him and started to snuggle, but suddenly she yelped and grabbed onto the sheet, yanking it up over them as she stared toward the window. Grissom looked at her to see what amounted to pure terror as she continued to stare in that direction.

"Sara?"

"You didn't close the damned curtains all the way! Someone's out there!"

Grissom turned to look over his shoulder, seeing that there was about a two-inch gap between the drapes. "Were they walking by?"

"No! They were looking in at us!"

Grissom was out of the bed in an instant, pausing only to make sure Sara was covered again. He grabbed his jeans and yanked them on and hurried toward the door as he buttoned them and pulled up the zipper.

"I swear to God if it's that goddamned blonde I'll put her on dumpster duty until the day she retires!" Grissom yanked the door open and heard a whimper, but the blonde who stood staring at him with wide eyes wasn't the one he expected. Grissom grabbed the young man and jerked him inside the room and slammed the door behind them.

"Greg!" Sara gasped.

"What were you doing?" Grissom shouted at him.

"I—I—uh—well," Greg Sanders stammered then looked at Grissom as if he realized the significance of the situation. "Hey! "I" wasn't doing anything! Just what were "you" doing, Stud!"

"You were watching?" Grissom growled.

"NO! I wasn't watching! What do ya think I am? A pervert?" Greg glanced over at Sara and gave her a nervous smile. "Hi, Sara."

"Greg," she answered just as awkwardly.

"Then what were you doing?" Grissom insisted.

"Ya know, Grissom, If I were you, I wouldn't be standing there about to lecture me on motel etiquette. And I'd really prefer it if you'd get a shirt on—you're kinda freakin' me out."

Grissom looked at the younger man in exasperation, knowing the way his mind worked, he would have to take a step back from bombarding him with his temper before he could get any information from him. He moved to the curtains and peeked out, then pulled them closed completely before turning back to see Greg looking back at Sara with an appreciative, if not totally accepting smile.

"Sit down, Greg!" Grissom ordered and when the boy did so, he picked up his shirt and started to pull it on. "Why are you here?"

"Ecklie said Sophia called and they arranged for Sara to come back to the lab. When she didn't show up, I thought I'd drive up to make sure she was okay."

"And why wouldn't she be okay?" Grissom asked bitterly, finding the younger man's over-attentiveness irritating.

"She couldda got into an accident or something! Her truck couldda broke down—which, by the way, I saw the truck out back and it doesn't look like it's in very good shape. What did you do to it?"

"Greg!" Grissom attempted to get him focused back on the subject.

"Oh—yeah—I forgot. Ecklie rode up with me."

"Jesus Christ!" Sara hissed as she pulled the sheet around her and jumped off the bed, grabbed her clothes and darted into the bathroom.

"And you felt you didn't need to alert us to that fact as soon as you got here?" Grissom asked sarcastically.

"I was going to tell you—just to be friendly—then I looked in here and got the show of a lifetime! Anyway, I couldn't help it if you shocked the thought right out of my brain—then you grabbed me and I wasn't exactly thinking about Ecklie while I was wondering if I was going to survive your attack."

"Where is he?" Grissom went back to the curtain and looked outside again.

"I think he's down at Sophia's room. He said he wanted to check in with her first to see if she had access to the evidence he sent her up after, since evidently Sara didn't have it."

"Yeah, well, it looks like he's seen her," Grissom mumbled as he watched Ecklie nearly stumble out of the room at the other end of the motel. "Sara—are you almost dressed? Ecklie's on his way and he's in a hurry."

"Go outside and meet him. I'll be there in a second," she called back.

Grissom opened the door and started out, but stopped when he noticed that Greg remained seated. "Out!"

"Fine, I'm going out," Greg mumbled then looked at the way Ecklie was hurrying toward them resembling a Christmas ornament as his face seemed to be tinged green while at the same time he had signs of a blush that ran up his face clear to his bald spot. "Wow! What's with him?"

"Where's Sara?" Ecklie insisted in a frenzied breath.

"I'm right here." Sara stepped out of the room to join the three men. "Why?"

"Why weren't you down there where you should've been?"

"I thought she was supposed to be back at the lab—that's why we came up—to check to see if she was okay." Greg crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at his superior.

"You" came up to see if she was okay. "I" came up to make sure the case was okay. Now—again—why weren't you down in that room with . . .with. . ." At that point they heard the slamming of a door from the other end of the motel and they all looked down to see a harried Sophia rushing toward them. "Oh, my God—she's coming up here!"

"Something wrong, Conrad?" Grissom asked as they all continued to watch Sophia stomping toward them.

"No! Not a damned thing!" He never let his eyes leave Sophia as he addressed Sara. "Why weren't you where you were supposed to be? All of this could've been avoided if you'd have been down there!"

"What did you tell them?" Sophia shouted at Conrad then looked at Grissom with an almost pleading expression. "It isn't true! Don't believe that damned pervert!"

"Pervert!" Ecklie hissed back at her. "I wasn't the one standing naked in front of a mirror and singing to a glowing dildo!"

"Shut up, you. . .you. . ." she couldn't seem to find a word vile enough for him. "You didn't have to stand there staring—did you? You could have let me know it was you—and not. . ."

They all watched as she looked back at Grissom quickly then seemed to deflate as she realized she was supporting Ecklie's claim. She let out a whimper and turned around and headed back to her room in a rush. This time when Ecklie turned to look at Grissom he was met with amusement.

"Looks like you got more than you bargained for, Conrad. Next time you'll knock before entering a lady's room."

"I did knock!" Ecklie growled. "The crazy bitch told me to come in, that she'd been waiting for me!"

"Now you know why "I" wasn't down there with her," Sara said in all seriousness, turning Ecklie's shocked gaze back to her.

"Oh, my God! You're kidding! She was waiting for you?"

"No, Conrad," Grissom assured him. "She was waiting for me. It seems she's got it in her head that we should be . . .involved."

"So, then she isn't involved with Sara," Conrad said, relieved at the thought.

"No," Greg said with a roll of his eyes. "She's" not involved with Sara."

Ecklie missed the emphasis on "she's" and didn't pick up the suggestion that perhaps someone else in their presence was involved with Sara. "Well, thank God for that! I'd hate to bring up disciplinary action against anyone for being involved with another member of the staff. If I'd have to deal with two of the same. . .well, let's just say I'm glad they aren't involved."

Although the insinuation passed right by Ecklie, Grissom and Sara picked up on it immediately, earning Greg a shove from Sara and a deadly look from Grissom.

"Sara, would you like to go back in and bring out the evidence we were going over before Greg interrupted us?" Grissom suggested, bringing a short chuckle from the younger man.

"Yeah—I'd like to see that, too."

"Shut up, Greg," Grissom told him.

"So, do you want to fill me in on what happened last night? Why didn't Sara come back like she told me she was going to?"

"She had an accident with the truck and hurt her knees. We had to have them looked at. Luckily the doctor was just leaving the emergency clinic and looked at her without giving her x-rays. He said she was going to be fine and didn't need anything other than taking it easy for a few hours."

"Yeah, like that happened," Greg snorted and received another look from Grissom.

"So she came back here instead of going to her room with Sophia?" Ecklie asked.

"They don't get on very well. So, we worked through the night, instead." Grissom said then gave Greg a warning glare before the boy could make any remarks on his statement.

"Is there anything you're in the middle of that can't be turned over to me for the rest of the day?" Conrad asked Grissom then upon his blank stare, he continued. "If you've been awake all night, Greg and I can pick up the slack until you get some rest. There's no sense in working you a straight 24 hours—your brain will be more productive once you get a few hours sleep."

"I'm okay," Grissom told him then took the small case that Sara was carrying out of the room.

"You too, Sara. If you've been up since yesterday, I want you both to get some sleep. You can either go back down. . .there," he nodded toward the area Sophia had gone in. "but with the temper she's in, you might be better off getting some sleep here. How many beds are in there? Two? You don't mind letting her sleep in one bed while you get some sleep in the other, do ya?"

Grissom looked from Ecklie to Sara, to Greg and then back to Ecklie.

"I don't know. Do you think it will be following company policy?"

"I don't think two people sleeping in the same room warrants investigation. Anyway, the way you two have been getting along, I'm sure I don't have to worry about anything other than whether or not you're going to murder each other in your sleep. Greg, grab that case. We'll go to the lobby and see what we've got to work with. Grissom—Sara—get some sleep."

"Yeah," Greg said as he took the case from Sara then looked back at Grissom. "Get some "sleep!"