Chapter 4

Sara sat on the edge of her bed and started to giggle. A full-fledged giggle! He hadn't had sex with that android! Hee-hee-hee! AND, he was rattled; VERY rattled by her appearance when she showed up at his door. She didn't know what he had been doing "before" she came to his room—but she could definitely see what he was unsuccessfully trying to hide. She may not be all that experienced, but she had some idea that a man's mid-section wasn't supposed to stick out "that far" under normal circumstances. She hadn't noticed it immediately but when she stood before him and he let his eyes roam from her bare feet up to her dark curls, he had sort of gone limp in the wrist and dropped the blanket slightly. After that, it was a matter of checking him out whenever he couldn't see—which was quite often considering he was out of touch with their conversation almost from the start.

She had hoped her state of dress would affect him. She took extra care to see that her hair was falling just right around her shoulders after she had changed out of her blue cotton hip-hugger underwear that she had been wearing into her white satin and lace panties. But she had no real hopes of it turning him into a speechless mass of mush the way it had. Hee-hee-hee!

She felt good. She felt great. She was elated! After all those weeks of being poked with a heparin lock, weeks of trying to rid herself of the nearly permanent ring around her face from heaving into a bucket, weeks of picking foreign substances out of her hair when she didn't get it out of the way in time (which, by the way, was usually – what else – rice crispie treats! Oh! She did have a spectacular day of it that time she thought she was going to tackle a Whopper from Burger King. What a joke that was. Hold the pickle, hold the lettuce, my ass! She was picking pickle and lettuce out of her hair for days! She'd never again have to wonder how embarrassing it was to have a gorgeous six-foot-tall male nurse sit on the edge of her bed, about to inject her IV with her daily dose of vitamins as she looked adoringly back at him, only to have him squint his eyes as he reached forward and pulled a few chunks of tomato from her limp curls!), she was ready for some positive attention! No more tomato curls for her—not in front of the god across the hall! Now that she knew she could—she was going to have him panting after her and making him suffer as thoroughly as he had made her suffer these past twenty weeks! Ha! He had no power over her!

And during those twenty weeks—he wasn't getting "any" off of his blonde robot! Hee-hee-hee. She got to her feet and very nearly did a little "happy dance" but stopped suddenly when she heard the loud knocking on her door. Her eyes flew to the piece of wood that separated her from the man on the other side. What the hell could he want now? Knowing Grissom he was having second thoughts about staying here, seeing as it wouldn't be "proper." Never mind how proper it was when he shoved her onto the table in his hallway and did the most amazing things to her with his mouth.

Another knock—much more insistent this time. Can't wait, huh? Sara thought to herself as she moseyed over toward the door. Well, he was just going to have to wait! He made her wait for nearly six months! So, she'd take her time to answer the damned door—lah-dee-dah! She stopped to adjust the runner on her bureau so it was more centered. She stopped to wipe at a little dust that had collected on a picture frame. She even stopped to try to pick the lint off the sweater that was hanging on the back of her chair. But suddenly the door swung open to reveal him standing there, in all his glory, still holding onto the blanket at his waist. The unexpected opening had her jumping back in surprise and letting out a squeak before trying to regain her composure as she looked at him.

"Yes? Do you want something?" She asked, again, giggling to herself. Does he want something? Jesus, he's nearly lifting the blanket off of the floor with his "wants." Hee-hee-hee! But he'll only say something lame like, ". . .um, yes, please—do you mind if I use your shampoo? I seem to have lost mine during my flight. . .." But instead, he took some rapid steps into the room, bringing another squeak as she backed away from him.

"You did that on purpose!"

"I did?" She looked at him blankly.

"Yes! You did!"

"I'm sorry—I didn't mean to. Wait. "What" did I do on purpose?" The thought that he might have reconsidered his opinion and was about to accuse her of getting pregnant on purpose struck her.

"You know full well what you did! You came back here—changed clothes—put on the skimpiest piece of sleepwear I've ever seen. . ."

"What do you mean skimpy? It's covering more than "your" sleepwear would be if you weren't wearing a blanket as an accessory."

"Oh, no it isn't! I can see your underwear—where you're wearing them anyway! You're not even bothering to try to cover the area where you "aren't" wearing them!"

"You should talk! You're not wearing anything to cover "your" underwear."

"How would you know? "I'm wearing a blanket as an accessory," remember?" He lifted a brow as he looked at her. "For all you know, I could be wearing my jeans under here."

"No you're not," she said skeptically. "Or you wouldn't be covering them with the damned blanket!"

"I—I was cold," he said indignantly.

"No, you weren't! When it's cold—it goes in—not out!" She said smartly, then felt her cheeks heat up as she realized she just revealed her knowledge of the mechanics of the male anatomy.

"It—it isn't out!" He told her with just as much embarrassment.

"Prove it." She reached out and grabbed the blanket but he held it more firmly.

"I'm not showing you!"

"Why not?" She tugged again. "You're a doctor. Didn't you ever play doctor when you were a child?"

"Evidently not as much as you did. Stop pulling!"

"That's not what you said last time you were here." She couldn't stop the giggle that bubbled inside of her as she tried to grab onto the blanket again. "You were saying, "ohhh baby, pull it right there—ohhhh, honey, don't stop!"

Her statement stopped his movements as he stared at her through wide eyes. "I didn't—did I?"

His lack of focus allowed her to yank the blanket out of his hands but by now the flagpole was no longer at half-mast. She looked at his boxers in disappointment.

"Oh," she pouted before looking up at him again.

"Are you satisfied? I told you I wasn't. . ."

"Saluting me?"

"Sara," he grumbled as he grabbed the blanket and pulled it back again, not bothering to cover himself this time. "Where did all this. . .attitude. . .come from?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot as she looked back at him, thinking, okay, smart ass, you want to know where my "attitude" came from—I'll let you know.

"It comes from over five months of carrying your child. It comes from five months of being alone with my only visitors being nurses who would stop in twice a day and stay long enough to take my vitals and hook up a new bag of IV solution. It comes from five months of a loneliness I've never known before because "someone" had to get drugged in a bar then use me as his personal inflatable doll. It comes from having such incredible sex—then absolutely nothing—while you're out wining and dining Miss Stick-Up-Her-Ass and trying to get her to give you a portion of what you got so easily from me!"

"The sex was incredible?" He asked, making her growl at him in frustration.

"That's the only part you heard! How typically male of you!"

"But—it was incredible?" He took a step toward her with a raised brow and the beginnings of a satisfied smile. "Really?"

"Oh!" She nearly stomped her foot at him. "How would I know? I had nothing to compare it with."

"Are you serious? You're telling me I bedded a virgin and I don't even remember it?" He looked up at her in confusion. "Wait a minute. I thought you said you were twenty-six."

"I "am" twenty-six."

"And you're saying you were still a virgin."

"Not everyone is willing to drop their pants when they're in their teens! So—now, I guess you'll never know—will you?"

He looked down at her protruding stomach then back up at her face with concern. "I can't imagine giving birth to a baby after only having sex one night would be very-easy."

"And just what are you suggesting, Grissom?" She raised a brow as she looked at him then started giggling again. "Stretching me out so my birth canal will be more accommodating when I go into labor?"

His indignity returned. "Well, it makes sense to me!" He watched as she continued to chuckle. "You can stop laughing now. It was only a thought."

"It sounds like a plan to me. Let's see—should we make a schedule? Every three days like clockwork?"

"I said—it was only a thought!" He looked at her closely. "So—then you "did" do that on purpose."

"Do what? You never specified, other than changing clothes. Yes, I change clothes all the time—especially when I'm going to bed."

"You didn't dress like this for my benefit?"

"Did you dress like "that" for "my" benefit?"

"No. I just undressed so I could go to bed."

"Well, there ya go." She rolled her eyes then tried to walk around him, but he put his hand on her waist and stopped her.

"Then if you didn't dress like that for me—and I didn't dress like this for you—then it's safe to say we should go to bed."

She blinked as she looked at him. "I don't get your logic—but okay."

"Well, okay then." He scratched his beard in thought then turned and started for her door. "I'll see you in the morning."

She watched in disbelief as he left her room and went into his. She couldn't believe it. There was the perfect opportunity to have him back in her bed, and she blew it! Or did he blow it? She wasn't sure.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The sun was pouring into the window as Grissom blinked his eyes to find a woman of perfection standing at the foot of his bed. His first instinct was to cover himself, knowing he had kicked the blankets off during the night but he couldn't seem to grasp onto the blanket when he watched how her eyes were moving over him, starting at his feet and moving up over his legs then slowing as she approached his thighs as she slid her tongue over her lips. He couldn't stop himself from fidgeting slightly, opening his legs the tiniest bit, as she watched him. After all, it was those amazing brown eyes that were causing him to grow beneath the cotton of his boxers. He better do something before she noticed the state she was putting him in, but when he reached for the blanket this time, she objected as she slid one knee on the end of the bed, between his feet.

"No, don't," she breathed as she leisurely slid her other knee onto the mattress, nudging his legs apart to provide her with adequate room. "I need to see. I want to watch."

"Watch?" His voice cracked as he looked up at her. The image of her standing erect on her knees in front of him and opening her nightshirt until it hung open on both sides of her, revealing the edges of her magnificent breasts and the exquisite roundness of her tummy before providing him with the most spectacular view of her white satin and lace panties that hugged her hips, and then those thighs. His eyes moved back up over her body as her hands slid down over herself, opening the shirt even wider as she caressed her waist and then her hips.

"I like to watch you grow. You make me want you so badly just watching you. Please—may I touch?" She dipped a finger down and let her nail run over his thigh, the sensation making him even harder and bringing an appreciative smile to her. "That's my boy. May I touch—more?"

He silently nodded his head once as his eyes remained glued to her, not knowing what to expect as he watched that beautiful tongue slide over her amazing lips again. She smiled such a sexy smile and revealed that gap that had him absolutely throbbing by now then she lowered herself until she was lying between his legs. He watched as her lips tasted the tender skin on the inside of his thighs and moved upward as her fingers massaged the thick muscles. He felt her tongue slide along his skin until she met with the bottoms of his boxers where she kissed the area.

"What would you like me to do now?" She whispered to him but the sound went right through him as he clasped onto the sheets beneath him.

"Go on," he breathed. "Do it."

"You'll have to show me. I've never done it before." She looked up at him and gave him a crooked smile. "Or you can tell me. Which do you prefer?"

"Oh, God." He reached down with both hands and freed himself from his boxers then didn't really know what to do from that point. He had never been the recipient of a first-time blow job. If she didn't know what to do—what could he do to show her without seeming aggressive? He looked at her again and she seemed to be pouting.

"Show me," she whispered again.

"Alright," he thought and he put his right hand onto the back of her head and pulled her toward him until he could feel her breath over the throbbing head of his erection. God, if she didn't do something soon he didn't know if he would be able to control his other hand or not and giving himself a hand job was the last thing he wanted right now. "Open-open your mouth."

She did as he said and he pulled her forward slightly letting her take over as she lowered herself over him. She seemed to pick up the momentum quickly and even had some added touches he had never experienced such as the way her teeth glided over him. Jesus, it was as good as he had imagined, and he moved both hands to her hair, assisting her in her motions as he took in the texture of the long curls. He looked at her, watched her as she became completely consumed with her job and soon she started to moan against him. He could go on like this forever. She was so beautiful, so amazingly sexy, and she was doing what he had wanted for so long. He felt himself tightening as he gripped onto her and fought not to force her but she was just too potent for him, too good at what she was doing, that he couldn't stop himself.

"Sara! Take more, Sara!" He breathed as his head pressed back against his pillows in ecstasy.

"I've starved for you since you left," she told him. "Are you hungry for me?"

"Yes! God, yes!"

"You're hungry?" This time her voice was a bit louder and its tone had changed.

"What did you say?" He panted.

The knock that rattled his door made his eyes burst open. "I said-I'm making breakfast, are you hungry?"

He looked around the room, positive he could still feel Sara lying between his legs and as he looked down at himself, there was no disguising the state his dream had him in.

"Grissom!" She said more insistently this time after another knock then the door was pushed open. She moved to the bottom of his bed as she looked down at him with an amused smile. "Well, good morning to you, too, Dr. Grissom."

She chuckled then turned and retreated back out of the door, leaving him to his discomfort. Dammit! She was going to be the death of him!

Sara went back to the kitchen and finished preparing her breakfast of French toast with whipped cream and blueberries and a cup of tea. She really hadn't intended to wake him before she left for work, but as she was heading back to the bathroom for the second time already that morning, she could hear muffled sounds coming from within his bedroom. She paused long enough to make out a few words such as "do it" and "yes" and it moved her to put her ear to the door. After a few more sounds which included her name along with a request for her to do more, she started knocking.

The hell with him! She thought as she rapped her hand against the wood. She went to bed with images of that man lying across the hall and all night the only comfort she could find was the occasional squeezing of her legs to try to curb the sensations he was creating. If "she" couldn't find release—he couldn't either and she certainly wasn't going to allow him to use her as a catalyst to push him over some erotic edge. Bull! If she had to suffer—so did he!