A/N: Thank you for reading!

I Keep On Loving You

Chapter 23

Three weeks after Sara had entered the rehab institute with its state of the art physical therapy, she walked twenty feet with only the aid of a walker. For the first time since her accident, she was upright on pelvic bones that were ninety percent healed and, as long as she did not attempt to walk or run a mile long marathon, she could move in an upright position. Short distances—but at least she was moving upright.

Later in the day, she had an appointment with her orthopedic physician with expectations of having the cast on her leg removed and being discharged from therapy—or at least every day therapy.

As she made her way along a long curved hallway covered with a variety of surfaces and with a beautiful view of the mountains to the west, her ever-ready therapy assistant walking beside her, they talked about children. The assistant had three, two in elementary school, and Sara had found the woman to be a reliable source of information for conquering the maze of public education.

"I don't think Eli eats enough lunch," Sara said as she placed the walker on paving stones. She added, "I hate walking on these things!"

"Does he tell you he doesn't get enough food? Be careful—these things are tricky and for some reason, they are used everywhere!"

Silently, Sara maneuvered the walker along the pavers, carefully placing her feet firmly before moving again. Finally, she stepped on a carpeted surface.

She continued, "When he gets home, he is starving—I'm talking a sandwich, a glass of milk, a bowl of ice cream—and two or three hours later, he's ready to eat dinner! It's like his little body is hollow!"

The assistant laughed, saying, "He's growing! What time is his lunch? Probably before noon, so three hours pass before he gets home. Kids eat every three hours!"

"Sara!"

Sara did not have to turn around to know Benita had arrived with lunch. Since she had been at the institute—literally a stone's throw from the hospital—Benita had shown up at least once a week with lunch. She and Dona had also found a housekeeper who came to the Grissom's twice a week.

Slowly, the three women returned to the institute's dining room where they spent an hour eating and in easy conversation.

"Dr. Cade is the one you'll see this afternoon, Sara," Benita said as they finished eating. "He's the older guy—you've seen him before, haven't you?"

"I don't care who I see—just want to get out of this cast and—and move on."

The therapy assistant shook her head. "He's not going to discharge you yet, girlfriend."

Later, after the cast was cut from her leg, the physician and the nurse washed her skin with a soft cloth and dried it until the color of her skin reminded her of the pink flamingos at one of the casinos on The Strip.

Sara grimaced as the nurse applied lotion. "It looks like I have a fur coat of hair on it!"

The nurse laughed, "Don't shave it for a few days. I'll put a long stocking on your leg and give you a couple to take home. Just wash and pat it dry." A few minutes later, she said, "Let's see how well you can stand on it."

Her leg felt odd, weak without the cast, but she managed to make several steps with the walker. The doctor gave an approving smile.

He said, "Keep using the walker. Your pelvic bones are almost healed—I don't want you to fall at this point."

"What about therapy?" asked Sara.

Looking through her record, he made a soft grunt. "What about two days a week for therapy? A couple of hours so the therapists can check you gait and strength—you're almost back to normal."

Using the walker for support, Sara turned to face the physician and the nurse. "Normal would be nice," she said with a soft laugh. "Okay, doc, how much back to normal am I? Can I—can I—you know." She knew she was blushing. In a rush she asked, "Can I have sex now?"

Grissom swore he could hear every drop of water as it glided down Sara's body. And he was in the bedroom with plans put into play. Fresh sheets folded back, a lamp on its lowest setting, Eli sound asleep, and the dogs sleeping beside the boy. A small plate of cheese and fruit and a bottle of wine sat on the bedside table.

He did not want to cut short the pleasure of her bath even though every splash of water made his heart beat faster, so he paced.

When she had finally made it to the van using the walker and minus the cast on her leg, she had turned to look at him, and without a word, he had seen the unmistakable excitement in her eyes. It had hit him like a punch, suddenly reminding him after so many months of the sweet, feminine passion he had experienced with her in the past—and of passion and desire to come.

"Gil?"

"Yes." Instantly, he was standing at the door of the bathroom.

"I'll need your help getting out of the tub." She said it casually as if she was asking for a drink of water yet the tone of her voice flowed with potential.

Taking a towel from the stack near the tub, he smiled as he wrapped it around her shoulders; water sloshed and slid from her naked body. A little breath shushed between her teeth as air touched her wet skin. As his hand brought the towel around her, his knuckles touched her nipple; he almost gasped at the erotic implication of what was to come.

The look in her dark eyes caused every muscle in his body to tighten. If he moved, he would have her on the bed before either said a word. He managed to smile.

As he helped her out of the tub, she made a sound of annoyance. "My leg looks like a hairy dog's leg."

Chuckling, he sat her on a bath stool, took another towel and dried her legs. "These beautiful legs do not look like a dog's legs. Neither one." He took extra care on the one that had been wrapped in a cast for eight weeks. So long that he felt his own arousal pressing against his thigh as he knelt before her.

Glancing up, he met her eyes; saw the confident curve of a smile on her lips. Instantly, he thought of the moment she had claimed his heart so completely—realizing it had not been one time but many—her dark eyes had captured him from their first meeting. The soft spot in her heart for every child, every battered victim, and every wounded animal had strengthen his love for the sweet, vulnerable woman who had proven to be unquestionable and absolute in her love for him.

Instead of using the walker, he wrapped an arm around her while she leaned into his embrace and, slowly, they made their way to the bed.

"It looks like we're having a celebration," Sara said as a somewhat mischievous smile playing across her face. Easily, she raised her legs onto the bed and scooted to the middle of it, keeping a towel wrapped around her body.

Her husband grinned and returned to the bathroom where he brought the walker and placed it beside the bed. Reaching for a wine glass, he raised it, asking, "Would you?"

She nodded, holding her thumb and index finger an inch apart. "Only a little."

He poured wine in both glasses; held her eyes for several seconds, silently sharing memories of the past and, quickly, he placed the glass he was holding beside the wine bottle, and stretched his fingertips to her face.

Intentionally, she caught his hand and brought it to her mouth where she let her tongue flick against his fingers.

"Sara, you are the most beautiful woman I know."

Her cheeks colored with the compliment as if she had never heard it from him before now. "You are perfect—and more precious to me than anything in my life." He picked up one of the wine glasses and held it so Sara could take a sip. He ran his thumb over her lower lip.

With eyes that suddenly glistened, Sara looked at him with such longing that his need and feelings overwhelmed all of his plans. His knees bent as he crawled onto the bed, instantly kissing her, tasting the wine as he slid his tongue along her lip.

One of her hands came to rest in the center of his chest, over his heart, and she made a low sound of need. Her mouth molded to his. Her palm slid to his neck as the towel fell away.

Immediately, he was lost in the heat of her body, hearing soft sighs as they deepened the kiss. All he knew was that he wanted her, needed her, loved her. Driven by a deafening pounding of his heart, he lifted his mouth from hers; glancing down he caught the breathtaking view of her pale skin. The towel had fallen away to reveal the soft curves of her breasts, her pink nipples taut.

For a moment, he stared. And then his hand was there, cupping her breast, his thumb whisking over her nipple, sexually seeking discovery and pleasure that had not been forgotten, only postponed. He lifted his face again kissing her until she shuddered in response.

Sara responded with equal passion, arching her back, tugging at his shirt until she had it over his head and thrown aside. She gasped for breath as he kissed her again and again with deep, hot kisses. When his mouth left her flesh, a moan of protest issued from her throat. He kissed and teased with his tongue until her breath broke; she arched her back off the bed whispering his name.

Sliding his arm around her back to hold her, he gave ravenous attention to each tender nipple as need twisted through her. She knew—had always known—this was the man she had been born for. Caressed, cherished. She felt his body against hers, hot and hard, shuddering with his own need, yet he kissed her gently, touched her tenderly.

As he nudged her thighs apart, she whispered, "Pants, lose the pants!" She heard a good-humored grumble but in a few seconds, he was as naked as she.

Heat ignited inside her as a liquid fire, sizzling deep within her core, shooting from one pleasure center along her spine to her brain. A deep rumble came from his throat that told her of his passion and desire. But instead of claiming her quickly, he traced a single fingertip along her abdomen, to her hip, to her thigh until his fingers brushed the soft, dark triangle between her thighs. Lightly, he stroked, exploring, seeking and finding the warm dampness within her.

When she moved her legs over his, he gently put his hands under her knees and lifted them, guiding them into position.

With more tenderness than she could remember, he kissed her as he reached down and opened her with his fingers and guided himself slowly into her.

For several seconds, neither moved; their eyes met. Sara's fingers gently caressed his face. She smiled before kissing him and he began to move.

Sara's climax was gradual, swelling like a wave in the ocean, then cascading onto a beach, and seconds later, building to another crest, surging again. As she came again with him, she went weak all over, felt all the rush of a tide leaving her body as she was drenched with pleasure, limp, unable to move.

When she finally opened her eyes, Grissom was wrapping the sheet around both of them, cradling her to his chest, whispering soft words in her ear, threading his fingers through her hair. He kissed her over and over, softly, along the curve of her jaw, to her ear, closing his lips over her earlobe.

Finally, taking her face between his palms, he said, "I love you—I keep on loving you—I've loved you forever."

The door bell was ringing. Her husband was groaning and fighting bedcovers as he got out of bed.

"Throw me some clothes," Sara asked as he pulled jeans over his naked butt. "Who is at the door?"

Hobbling on legs that appeared unsteady, wincing as if he were in pain caused Sara to ask, "Are you okay?"

He shot her an impish look, "I'm not use to what we did half the night." With a quick grin, Grissom grumbled, "Who is at our door at seven on Saturday morning? The dogs are up—Eli will be awake by now." He found Sara's robe and passed it to her. "I'll be right back."

She heard the dogs and Eli's sleepy voice as Grissom left the bedroom. Softly, she laughed as she looked around the bedroom. It looked as if a windstorm had hit the bed. All of the wine and most of the cheese and fruit had disappeared. Looking around, she couldn't find the wine glasses.

Quickly, hearing voices coming from the living room, she wrapped the robe around herself, managed to reach the walker, and stood on unsteady legs. Before she could get across the room, Eli ran in still wearing his pajamas.

"Nick is here! Captain Jim is here—everyone is here!" The small boy appeared to be dancing in one spot, his feet moving so rapidly he seemed airborne.

"Why?"

"They have a fort! A real fort with wood and everything! A real fort for me!"

In the innumerable events and activities of the past weeks, a kid-size cedar play set had been ordered. Sara remembered giving Nick and Greg information about the delivery and set-up—and their response had been "we'll take care of it".

It wasn't just Nick, Jim, and Greg in her living room. Among the ten or twelve men walking through her house, she saw Ecklie, Hodges, David Phillips, Henry, and several detectives who worked the night shift.

"Good to see you standing, Sara!" Henry called in her direction. The others, intent on getting to the back yard, waved as they passed.

Nick gave her a hug, saying, "The gate was locked—so we had to ring the bell." He patted Eli's shoulder. "You ready for a real fort, big guy?"

By the time Grissom and Sara were dressed, another group showed up with food and drinks. So much activity was going on, several hours passed before Sara finally sat down.

Morgan, wearing an apron over her jeans, brought Sara a drink and a sandwich. "Vegetarian with cheese," the younger woman said. "We've missed you greatly, Sara."

Sara smiled, "I've missed you—work—and I have no idea when I'll return."

"Don't return too soon." Morgan nodded her head in Eli's direction. "And you have Eli—he seems to be a good boy."

"We do—and he is. His dad was a good man, Morgan. I think his mother was good to him," Sara's face contorted as she frowned. "We have a meeting with a judge in a few weeks. I want to walk in without a walker."

"You will." Morgan smiled as she held up three fingers in front of Sara. "And I—I have some news too."

Sara looked at Morgan, puzzlement on her face.

"Three dates! Real dates!"

With eyes wide, Sara smiled. "When? I can't believe he got the courage to ask! Real dates—not meeting after work?"

"Yes—real dates." Morgan's eyes dropped in an unusually shy manner. "And we're—we've decided to live together."

Sara looked at the men building the play set, seeing the one she sought, and grinned. "This is great—I'm happy for both of you."

"I wanted you to know first, Sara. He's so sweet—and I really do love him."

Giving a nod of approval, Sara hugged the younger woman. "Don't wait too long for the next step, Morgan."

Earnestly, Morgan said, "I don't think we will." She smiled, "I hope we can be as happy as you and Grissom are."

"We are—we really are," Sara said.

For several minutes, the two women watched as the men worked on the play set. Sara's eyes sought her husband and then Eli, who was running around the yard, talking to everyone, giving a spontaneous hug to Grissom before he chased after Sally Sue. He had never changed out of his pajamas.

A/N: Thank you for reading-a very heart-felt thank you to those who review! One more chapter to go...