A/N: Thank you for staying with us! Enjoy the honeymoon!
Gil Grissom's Romance Part 2
Chapter 11
Getting married in Costa Rica was one of the easiest things Gil Grissom had ever done. He handed over his passport, signed a form after providing names and dates, and handed the pen to Sara. He couldn't stop grinning.
And no one had ever been as beautiful as Sara on this day. His hand rested on her back as she answered the same questions, handed her passport over, and signed her name. He took her hand as she passed the pen to one of their two witnesses.
Nancy, the beetle researcher, and Thomas Marks' wife, Candace, had taken charge of—he chuckled—of everything. Sara had called a halt to their excited plans for a wedding, explaining their mothers and friends would never understand—never forgive—a wedding in Costa Rica. All they needed was an attorney licensed to marry couples.
Her request had stopped plans for twinkling lights, music, and cake. But not for flowers—Sara wore white flowers in her hair. She refused a special outfit—Sara did not wear a dress, but she did wear a new soft pink shirt.
Several days before their appointment to marry with the attorney, the two women had talked Sara into going shopping with them. A woman who's idea of shopping was a fifteen-minute trip through Target once a month headed out in a four-wheel drive double cab truck with the two women right after dawn. Grissom had no idea where they were going—and they did not return until late afternoon.
Sara's face was flushed with excitement as she described the small town with open-air markets, a restaurant where they had eaten delicious food for lunch, meeting the man who would perform their official ceremony, and, with great flourish, presented him with a new shirt in a bright blue and a new hat, a white Panama.
He had never known her to be excited about shopping and decided to keep his thoughts to himself; she was excited about getting married.
And today, after their witnesses had signed the marriage document, he had held Sara's hand and slipped his grandmother's ring on her finger. She grinned from ear to ear as she turned to Candace, retrieved a similar ring, and pushed it on his finger.
Surprise showed on his face until it dawned on him she'd purchased the ring on the previous shopping trip and kept it secret.
Thomas Marks took photos as they kissed, as they stood together holding the marriage certificate in their hands; he kept on taking photographs until Sara started making goofy faces and took the camera out of his hands
"Enough already!" She laughed and took a photo of Thomas and Candace.
Leaving the paperwork with the attorney who had pronounced them husband and wife, Grissom and Sara were led to a roof-top restaurant where their new friends toasted with beer and wine and ate delicious local vegetarian dishes, salads of sweet blueberries and strawberries, another of Brussels sprouts and arugula and avocadoes, and a "Russian" salad of beets, potatoes, and carrots; bright red peppers stuffed with rice, beans, and corn came with several salsas. Before they backed away from the table, the chef presented an array of beautifully prepared desserts of sweet pastries covered with honey, a citrus pudding, and tres leches cake.
Nancy and Candace beamed with satisfaction as the newlyweds happily shared their joy on their wedding day and jointly related how they had met. Candace and Thomas talked about their wedding, twenty-two years earlier, in Costa Rica.
"I was thrilled I didn't have to change my name to marry him!" Candace said. "And I never did—not even when we had kids. Probably the reason I kept returning—Costa Rica has such a strong matriarchy society—I fit right in!"
As surprised as Grissom had been about the wedding band from Sara, it was his turn to surprise her.
When they left the restaurant, next to the research facility's old four-wheel drive truck, a bright blue vehicle was parked; a driver stood near the front. As Grissom opened one of the rear doors, the group laughed at Sara's confusion.
"It doesn't belong to us!" Candace said with a laugh.
Nancy hugged Sara saying, "In a week, you'll be back to eating beans and sleeping in a tent!"
Thomas gently embraced Sara. "The place owes me a favor or two—enjoy your week—your honeymoon."
"And don't let this guy look at bugs all week," added Nancy. She whispered, "I packed your bag—you have everything!" Her eyebrows danced as her eyes widened in a quiet moment of female confidentiality. "Everything!"
Their plans for a two-night stay in the small town vanished as the driver placed their bags in the back of the SUV and got behind the wheel.
"There's a cooler behind you if you want anything to drink," the man said. "I'm David and I'm your driver to the best resort in Costa Rica!"
Sara and Grissom had barely drawn a breath before the group of researchers disappeared and the vehicle was gaining speed on the outskirts of town.
"We are going southwest of the research center—to the coast," the driver explained. "It's a family-owned resort, very private—and you have to be special guests for Thomas Marks to call my boss."
The man went on to explain the history of the area and the connection between the family and the researcher. He said, "It's about an hour's drive." He passed a small notebook to Sara. "Here's what's in store for you so sit back and enjoy—unlike the research center, the resort is a place where we do the work—you relax."
A few hours later, Grissom and Sara stared at the view from the room—a term both knew did not apply to where they were standing. It was a tree house—a round tree house—built among trees with an unobstructed view to the Pacific ocean, to a meandering river, to the rainforest, and, if one hung over the balcony rail, to several resort buildings nestled among trees.
The floor of wide wooden planks reflected soft sunlight. Overhead, beams of dark wood spread as spokes on a wheel. Bright woven rugs were placed around the room. It was bright and calm.
The kitchen, with no upper cabinets, had high windows over a smooth countertop. The polished wood dining table sat in the center. Armchairs, a sofa in crisp white linen covered with colorful pillows, arranged for taking in views. The windows—everywhere except where gauzy white curtains shielded a bathroom as large as the one in their Vegas condo. It had wide double-doors opening to the balcony with a view of the ocean. Privacy was provided by height and the dense rainforest that grew below and above the structure.
They had been asked preferences for food and times for meals, for activities like canoeing and kayaking, provided with maps with paths into the maze of gardens and trails into the lush rainforest around them. And to Grissom's obvious delight, he was introduced to the guide for the butterfly observatory; over one thousand species in Costa Rica and the resort's regeneration project had hundreds, including Blue Morpho, Juliette, and glasswings.
A knock at the door caused both to turn; Grissom saying "enter".
A woman dressed in the resort's uniform of a bright shirt and shorts pushed a cart into the room. Quickly explaining her mission, she filled the small refrigerator and cabinets with food, left a large package on the table with "compliments of the owners".
As soon as the door closed, Grissom checked the refrigerator, selecting two beers, while Sara opened the package to find two hats, two swimsuits, flip-flops, sunscreen, bottles for water, and a small insulated bag.
She looked at the two beers before asking, "Anything other than beer—maybe water? And fruit—didn't I see fruit?"
"Water, fruit juice, a couple of bottles of wine, cheese, nuts, fruit, chips, crackers of some kind, cookies," he said as he opened a cabinet. "Cookies—Chilky Blaks and Marias."
"Nuts, please—and you'll love the Chilky Blaks."
By the time they had explored the tree house, bounced several times on the king-size bed, followed a private path to the beach, walked in the gentle surf, and returned to their room, it was time to watch the sun drop into the ocean.
Sitting in chairs with their feet propped on the balcony rail, Grissom said, "We've had a wonderful day for an old married couple." He squeezed Sara's hand.
Laughing, she said, "Can you believe we did it?"
Bringing her hand to his lips, he kissed her fingers, giving her arm a tug. A few minutes later, she was sharing his chair and in the middle of a very passionate kiss, Sara jerked away.
"Someone came in the door," she whispered.
Grissom pulled her face back to his, whispering, "The concierge told us dinner would arrive around sunset, remember?" Kissing her across her cheek to her mouth, he mumbled, "I'm sure they've seen much more than what we're doing."
Sara didn't relax until she heard the door click shut.
She said, "Now, I want to see our dinner—I'm starved!"
Untangling, they got out of the chair and slowly wandered toward the kitchen area and came to an abrupt stop at the oval table.
"Oh, wow!"
Grissom chuckled. "Somehow, I didn't expect this—but then I'm not surprised." He walked around and pulled out a chair. "For you, dear—on our wedding night."
A pale green cold soup filled bowls; a pastry crust enclosed tomatoes, sliced zucchini, and, as Sara inhaled, softly saying "cheese—mozzarella" filled half of each dinner plate. A mushroom tart sat between the two plates. And in the center of the table, covered with a glass dome, was a tiered plate of cupcakes—not big frosty one, but small, almost bite size, with creamy white or chocolate toppings.
Sara laughed. "Suddenly, I'm hungry again."
"Wine, beer, juice, or water?"
"Juice," she answered.
Several minutes of silence passed as they tucked into the mouth-watering meal; their only sounds were ones of satisfaction with the taste of food.
After everything had been tasted at least once, Grissom placed his spoon next to the bowl of soup and asked, "You can tell me, you know."
Sara's eyes met his with a question.
"No beer, no wine—since when?" He picked up his spoon and ate the cold soup; avocado, basil, and cucumber, he thought.
Sara folded her hands together. Her cheeks flushed. Quietly, she said, "We—we talked about—you know—birth control."
Grissom's spoon slipped from his fingers as the penny dropped. "Oh—you're not? Can you be?"
Sara smiled, picked up his spoon and placed it in his hand. "We are two healthy people having sex—without birth control. I—I don't think I am—but I—I don't want to drink alcohol if I could be."
With eyes that glimmered and danced, his lips curled into a smile as he watched Sara. Grissom said, "Well, I hadn't had sex in a while." Quietly, he laughed. "So, I was loaded."
Grissom did not voice his thoughts, but the possibility of being a father at his age pleased him more than he realized. He watched Sara's face, soften and smile as she talked about fertility and age and possibilities. She was happy.
They managed to finish the meal with easy conversation that moved to plans for the next day and then placed all the dishes in a small cart that had been left near the door. Holding in check the ebbing and flowing of passion, they took quick showers in the beautifully tiled bathroom; Sara insisted he wait for her in the bedroom as she showered. She had a surprise, she said with an impish grin.
When Sara walked into the bedroom, there was enough moonlight to have no need for lights. Grissom made an audible gasp at the sight of her. Mostly pale skin but her breasts, her hips, were covered with wispy delicate lace in white. Instinctively, he knew what she wore had been found on her shopping trip.
"Sara." It was a whisper carried on a breeze.
When her lips met his, when her fingers tightened in his hair, a fierce explosion of passion occurred. The taste of her was intoxicating. The lace fell away as his hands closed around her firm breasts. He felt taut nipples in his palms. With a groan, he released her mouth and bent to take a tight nipple between his teeth.
Sara arched herself against him. Her hand slid across his back, down his spine to his back side; then he felt her fingers on sensitive skin.
He shuddered and she stopped.
"Don't stop."
Her hand reached between them, finding his erection, running warm fingers to its base, wrapping him in her palm. She purred, "You feel very solid."
His fingers played among the curls that marked the juncture of her legs. Bemused, he said, "And you are very, very soft."
She opened her legs as he stroked her, wet and yielding beneath his palm, his fingers explored until ragged breaths meant he could wait no longer. Sara's hands were on his back; he fitted himself to her and pushed into her. She gave a small groan as her body closed around him, drawing him into the damp heat.
Within seconds of the other, they sailed into the passionate whirlpool of climax; one on the other. He held on, controlled until he knew she had released her passion, and then he was crushing, driving into her as she contracted around him.
He was lost as convulsions wracked him; shutting his eyes as exhausting pleasure swept over him.
It seemed an infinitely long time later when Grissom opened his eyes but he knew it had not been long because the moonlight had not changed—it just seemed as if he had floated for an eternity. He shifted and tightened his arm around Sara as she stirred.
"Are you happy?"
He could see her smile. "Yes, completely." Her hand lifted and her ring caught moonlight. "And you, husband, are you happy?"
"Yes."
Their quiet chuckles turned into laughter. Sara lifted her head as he pulled her closer so he could kiss her again.
"Rest," he finally said. He settled beside her and nestled her closer. "I love you, Sara Sidle. I don't want to live without you—I've realized—you are my hope for happiness. How did you manage to reach inside me—change the person I always thought I'd be." He paused to kiss her damp skin and smiled at the steady breathing of sleep that came from his wife.
For a week, the couple woke to find breakfast placed on the table, a picnic lunch packed and waiting for an adventure—or to eat while sitting on a quiet beach. After a day spent hiking or boating or swimming or watching butterflies or doing nothing, dinner was delivered to the tree house as the sun set.
The second day, as they paddled a canoe along the quiet river, Grissom was ecstatic to see several Blue Morpho butterflies, one of the largest in the world, minutes after emerging from their chrysalises. Sara laughed as he clambered out of the canoe and splashed through water onto the shore line to get a closer look.
Floating on blue sea kayaks on their third day, Sara was overjoyed as a small pod of gentle bottlenose dolphins swam within several feet of their boats.
Each day, they watched as the sun slipped passed the horizon, setting the ocean on fire in the process. And each night, as the moon passed over the forest and spread its light across the bed, they loved each other.
A/N: Please leave a comment or review! We'll be back in a few weeks with another chapter as Real Life takes over for a while!