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by LSI |
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Chapters: Prologue 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18
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Chapter Ten Grissom
maneuvered the car down the twisting mountain road in silence.
The moon, which was full and white, lit up the sky and the
interior of the car. It was
a beautiful She
had never liked Her one reason for coming here—and for staying—had not spoken a word to her since they’d left the mansion. But she didn’t really care. She had plenty to occupy her mind. The two men who’d been most prominent in her life these past three days were, each in their own way, making her question whether she should stay in this garish city. If Grissom regretted hiring her, what possible future could she have at the lab? And, Blake—it hardly seemed fair to continue seeing him now that he’d made his intentions clear. As Grissom pulled up in front of her building, she threw him a quick glance. “Thanks for the lift,” she said quietly. “Goodnight.” She reached for the door handle, but his hand on her arm stopped her. She looked at him. “What is it, Grissom?” He let out a breath. “For the record, I don’t regret hiring you, Sara. From a strictly professional perspective, it’s probably the best decision I’ve made. You turned out to be one of our top CSIs, and I don’t mean only on graveyard.” Sara eyed him steadily, secretly pleased that he thought so highly of her capabilities as a CSI. However, his professional opinion of her was not what she’d longed to hear. “Thank you, but from a personal perspective, you don’t feel that way, do you?” “No,” he answered truthfully. His answer should have been difficult to bear, but strangely, it wasn’t. There was only a quiet, almost peaceful numbness inside her, and inside the car. It was as if all tension between them had vanished. Grissom switched off the engine and turned off the headlights. For a moment they sat in silence, each looking straight ahead in the semi-darkness. If ever there was a moment of truth, Sara recognized it as this one. He hadn’t evaded her question, and she’d appreciated his honesty. She decided for a little of her own. “When Catherine told us you were in the hospital, and why, I was…upset that you hadn’t said anything to me about it. Although we haven’t really been friends for a long time, I guess I still had some expectations of friendship left over from the past.” Sara paused and looked at him. “I didn’t want to go to the hospital, you know. I knew you wouldn’t want me there, and I told Catherine that. But she convinced me otherwise. Or maybe she didn’t,” she admitted, more to herself than to him. “I wanted to see you, make sure you were okay.” Grissom shifted in his seat. He rested his left elbow on the ledge between the window and the door, and closed his fist over his mouth. He didn’t look at her. Sara took a deep breath and fidgeted with the small bag in her lap. “When you woke up and told me you didn’t want me there, it…I—“ She shook her head, unsure how to explain all that she’d felt. “I realized how wrong I’d been about you…about us.” She looked at him then. “I’m really sorry, Grissom.” His gaze flew to hers. “What do you have to apologize for?” “I…my, uh…advances...I realize now how uncomfortable that must have been for you. I can understand if you want me to leave.” “I never said I wanted you to leave.” She gave him a faint smile. “Wouldn’t it be easier?” she asked softly. He let out a long, ragged breath and looked away. “I don’t know,” he said in a hoarse voice. “I’ve thought so on occasion, but I really don’t know. Would it be easier for you?” She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I’ve thought about it…leaving, I mean; it’s not like this city ever felt like home. And, I haven’t made friends…well other than some of the people at work, but no close friendships. And, I’m sure with your recommendation, I could get a good job elsewhere.” “Sounds like you’ve already decided to leave.” She tried to gauge his reaction, but couldn’t. After a full minute of silence, he sighed. “Is this how it’s going to end, Sara?” There was a certain quality in his voice, not anger exactly, but something equally powerful bubbling beneath the surface. When she didn’t answer he continued. “I remember the day you arrived. You met me at the Hotel Monaco, remember? Nicky was tossing dummies off the roof.” Sara nodded. “It was a difficult time for me…for all of us. Seeing you, your energy, your lovely smile…made me feel better.” “You never told me that.” “No, I didn’t. I should have.” “We were good friends back then. I still don’t know why it changed. Did I do something—“ “No, Sara,” he said quickly, “it wasn’t you. Don’t think that. The team resented you at first because I brought you in to conduct the internal investigation. I told them you were a friend, and that I trusted you. It eventually came to my attention that some people thought I was giving you preferential treatment. I guess I over-compensated by ignoring you for a while.” “Until I threatened to quit?” He chuckled softly. “Yeah, until then.” They both fell silent. Sara wondered if he was remembering the plant he’d sent her. It had been such an unexpected and personal gesture, and it had said everything she’d wanted to hear from him. She’d known then that he needed her here. Tears thickened in her throat. “Why are you telling me this now?” He took her left hand and held it between them, then shot her a glance and a smile. “I…don’t know.” He frowned. “I suppose I don’t want you to remember me as a complete jerk.” She smiled sadly into his eyes. “It sounds as if you’ve already decided I’m leaving.” When he didn’t respond, she said, “Is that what you want?” “I can’t let my personal feelings color my professional judgment, Sara. But…yes, for personal reasons, it would be easier if we didn’t…work together.” His words were like a dagger through her heart. She stared at him, not caring if he saw the tears that were building in her eyes. Maybe he was right. This was it. This was how it would end for them. A future in which she’d never see him again presented itself to her in a split-second flash. A sob lodged in her throat, and her chest tightened. The interior of the car suddenly felt oppressive. She needed to get out of there. She removed her hand from his, clutched her bag, and reached for the door. “Thank you for being honest with me—” His fingers closed around her arm. “Sara—“ “Let me go, Grissom,” she croaked. A mild oath escaped from under his breath as he released her. She opened the door urgently, needing to distance herself from him before she made a complete fool of herself. In her haste to get away, she lost her footing on the edge of the curb and went flying face first on the sidewalk. “Ow!” she cried as her hands scraped the pavement to break her fall. In an instant, Grissom was beside her, helping her up. “I’m fine,” she said just as a deluge of uncontrollable tears started streaming down her face. “Damn shoes,” she sobbed, as she struggled to break free of him. “Let go, I’m okay,” she said again, taking a step back. A short stab of pain shot through her right ankle, and must have registered on her face, for he immediately grabbed hold of her again. “You’re not okay, Sara. You’re hurt. Wait here.” He took the keys from the car and locked the doors, then retrieved her bag from the sidewalk. “Come on, I’ll help you up.” “No, I can manage.” She closed her eyes on her tears, but they wouldn’t stop. She knew the tears weren’t for any one injury—neither her heart nor her hands nor her ankle nor her pride hurt badly enough to warrant them. But it was as if a dam had broken, spilling out a flood of emotions long bottled up, and she was powerless to stop it. Ignoring her protest, Grissom put his arm around her and took a few tentative steps up the sidewalk to the building. “Put your arm around me, and use me for support, Sara. It’ll be easier.” By the time they made it up to her small apartment, Sara sniffed back the last of her tears and smiled away her embarrassment. “Thanks,” she said. "My pride hurts much more than my ankle you know.” He smiled and cupped her cheek with his hand; he wiped at the dampness beneath her eye with his thumb. “I know,” he said gently. His eyes then scanned her face, and traveled down the length of her body. He bent down to wipe a bit of dust from her dress. “Your heel’s broken.” “I know, and good riddance. I’m never wearing high heels again.” He chuckled and handed her, her purse. As she extended her hand to take it, he pulled it back and took her hand in his. “You hurt your hand.” He set the bag down on the hall table, and turned over the other one for his inspection. Sara winced when she saw the bloody scratches around the scar from the lab explosion injury, which had begun to swell again. “That’s what hurt so much when I fell. Looks like this hand took the brunt of it.” “We’ll have to clean and disinfect it.” He helped her to the couch. “Do you have a first-aid kit?” “Bathroom, under the sink.” He quickly returned with a washcloth and the first-aid kit. He took off his jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves and wet the cloth in the kitchen sink. He came back to the living area and sat on the edge of the coffee table facing her. He took her left hand first and removed most of the grime with gentle strokes of the washcloth. He then washed it down with an antiseptic wipe from the first aid kit. He repeated the procedure with her right hand. “I’ll bandage your left hand as a precaution,” he said, as he cut a piece off a roll of cotton dressing and wrapped it around her hand, securing it with adhesive tape. “You’re good at this,” Sara said softly, secretly enjoying his attention. Her hands tingled, but she doubted it had anything to do with her injuries. “Do you have a remedy for my injured pride, Doc? This had to be the most humiliating exit of my life.” He looked up with a smile as he refilled the first aid kit and zipped it up. “How long have we known each other, Sara?” She pretended to think for a moment. “Seven years, eleven months and four days?” “Precisely. You have no reason to feel embarrassed around me. Now, leg up, please.” “Excuse me?” “I need to examine your ankle.” “Oh.” As she pulled the hem of her dress slightly up, he moved the coffee table a little further away from the sofa and sat back on it. He lifted her leg and removed her shoe, discarding it on the floor. Using his thigh for support, he moved his hand gently over her foot, and up her ankle. “You’re full of surprises,” he said, brushing his thumb over her ankle bracelet. He turned it, and finding the clasp, removed it. He inspected it briefly before setting it down on the coffee table. He continued his examination, moving her foot right, then left, then up, putting some pressure on the front sole, before rotating it, asking with each movement if she felt pain. “Your skin is so soft,” he murmured. “Like the petals of an orchid.” Sara smiled. “Did I ever thank you for the one you sent me?” “I didn’t send it so you would thank me.” “I know. It was your way of apologizing for…what happened during the Kimble case.” He looked up quickly. “Is that what you think?” “Wasn’t it?” He frowned and went back to work on her ankle. “That was only one of the reasons. Obviously I did a poor job of communicating again.” “Well, ‘From Grissom’ did leave it open to interpretation.” “I’m a man of few words, Sara. You must pay attention.” “I’m paying attention now,” she said softly. He pursed his lips, but his amusement was evident. “Okay Ms. Sidle. What do you see?” “I see a man with a foot fetish.” He shot her a quick glance and smiled. But it didn’t deter him from his examination. The residual pain in her heart was quickly melting away. His hands and their new-found closeness were arousing new sensations in her that her previous intimate encounters hadn’t prepared her for. A thick fog settled in her brain, obliterating all awareness of place and time, yet everything about him had sharpened in contrast. She longed to touch him, to run her hands over his chest, to feel his breath on her skin, to be surrounded by his warmth. The fantasy was so real…blood pounded in her brain and her heartbeat quickened, leaving her breathless. When he glanced up again, he caught her looking at him. His eyes darkened. “No pain?” Sara shook her head, unable to form a simple word. “There’s no swelling either.” He gave her a quick smile and cleared his throat. “I think you’ll live.” He could have released her leg then, but he didn’t. His touch, which had been as impersonal as a doctor’s before, slowed to a soft and languorous caress. With each gentle stroke, his hand inched up her leg a little more. By the time he’d reached her knee, it was trembling. Stifling a moan of pleasure, Sara took a deep, unsteady breath. “Did, um…anyone ever tell you, you have a terrific bedside manner, Doc?” “Did anyone ever tell you—“ His hand stilled. He stood abruptly and walked to the window. He leaned against the wall and pulled down a slat on the horizontal blind to look outside. Sara watched him silently, unable to move. She tried to gauge his mood. She could tell he was tense from his stance and the workings of his jaw. He looked like a caged animal about to flee. She realized she didn’t want him to leave. When she spoke, she kept her tone deliberately light and non-threatening. “Would you like to share…a little?” He looked at her then; his face a mask of uncertainty…and something else she couldn’t comprehend. He turned back to the window and buried his hands in his pockets. His Adam’s apple moved. “Are you his girl, Sara?” he asked hoarsely. His question startled her. It took her a moment to find her voice. “I’m not now,” she murmured, regretting the sudden shift in mood. “You used to be.” It was more of a statement than a question, but it begged a response. “I suppose. I never thought it was all that serious, but…” “He did?” “I didn’t think so at the time.” “Things have changed.” “Yes.” He glanced at her briefly, and gave her a quick nod of understanding. They both fell silent. He continued to stare out the window as if there was something to see, yet it was dark outside. She wished she knew what he was thinking, but his face revealed nothing. The silence became awkward. Sara shifted on the couch and slipped off her other shoe. She put a little weight on her bad ankle to test for soreness, and was pleased that it was fine. She started to get up. “What do you want?” he asked then, his voice husky and tentative. Sara settled back onto the couch. His eyes were focused on her face, his gaze expectant. How would he react, she wondered, if she told him how she really felt? Would he reject her again? Remind her of all the reasons why they couldn’t be involved? Yet she’d sensed something different in him tonight. More open. Could she trust him with her heart now, or would he trample all over it again? I want you. It would be so simple to say it, yet she hesitated. How could she believe that things would be different when he’d just told her a little while ago that it would be easier if she left? She shrugged, and looked away. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.” “He’s too old for you.” Her eyes flew to him and her temper flared. “Damn it, Grissom. Who do you think I am…some college girl?” She pushed herself off the couch and faced him. “I’m an adult, in case you haven’t noticed. Most women my age are married and have a family. Blake knows what he wants, and he doesn’t give a damn how old he is or old I am.” Unlike you, she thought, but didn’t say it. It was implied. He didn’t miss a beat. “What I want and what I can have are two different things, Sara.” “Ah, well that’s comforting,” she said sarcastically. She paused and looked at him pointedly. “I’m starting to get this, you know. You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me either. Is that it?” His
gaze darkened dangerously. In
one quick movement he stood in front of her, his hands grasping her
upper arms. “How can you
think I don’t want you? This
has nothing to do with me not wanting you,” he said roughly.
He searched her face; his mouth was grim, his lips drawn into a
tight line. Then, he growled
and crushed his mouth to hers. Sara’s
breath leapt to her throat, and her heart swelled in her chest.
But this wasn’t how she’d imagined their first kiss.
There was nothing tender in this kiss.
It was almost desperate, violent even.
She’d never seen him lose control, and never would have
expected it. It momentarily
frightened her. She
twisted in his arms and pushed at him.
“Grissom…please, not like this.”
He
ignored her plea and buried his hand in her hair, releasing the comb
that held it up to let it fall in soft waves to her shoulders.
He pulled her face in for another quickly insistent and desperate
kiss. “My
name’s Gil, Sara? Why
can’t you say it?” There
was so much anguish in his voice…Sara wondered where it was coming
from. And since when did he
object to her calling him Grissom? She’d
always called him that. She
could only stare at him, too stunned and confused to speak.
A
strange light entered his eyes. “What
do you call him?
Garrison? Or do you
have your own little pet name for him too, Princess?” Understanding
finally dawned. He’s jealous! That’s
what this is all about? Sara
didn’t know whether to laugh, or cry, or kiss him.
At long last, a ray of hope that he might feel something more
than simple lust for her entered her heart.
She placed her hands over his chest, taking great pleasure in the
rapid beat of his heart, and smiled up into his eyes.
The
anguish she’d heard in his voice flashed across his face.
“Damn you,” he said on a ragged breath, before crushing her
body to his again. This
time she didn’t resist. She
wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to his, putting
months, years, of unspent passion into her response.
“I
want you,” he rasped out between kisses.
His
hands moved over her back, down to her waist.
He found the discreet zipper over her buttocks and pulled it
down. With a deftness of
hand, he then undid the clasp at her neck and slipped the dress off her
shoulders. It fell in a heap
at her feet. She stood fully
exposed under his gaze—safe for the black, lace G-string.
“You
are so beautiful,” he whispered as he brushed a lock of hair behind
her ear. He cupped her cheek
in the palm of his hand and captured her lips again.
This time, his kiss was infinitely gentler, almost reverent.
“Will you allow me to lose this one battle, Sara?” One battle. Not the war.
Nothing’s changed.
An intense sadness swept over her.
She buried her face—and her sorrow, in his neck, and he wrapped
his arms around her. They
stood like that for what seemed like an eternity to Sara.
She was only too aware that she was practically naked, but
surprisingly she didn’t feel uncomfortable.
The fine cotton of his shirt was soft against her skin, just as
she’d predicted. His heat
enveloped her; his quick breath fanned her ear.
She knew he was waiting for an answer, that he wouldn’t make
another move unless she invited it.
This could well be only one night, she thought.
Could she handle that? Wasn’t
one night with the man you love better than none at all?
Her
hands roamed his back then circled his torso to his chest, where his
heart beat strong and steady. She
pressed her lips to his neck and smiled when he drew a sharp breath.
He
groaned. “Do you even know
what you do to me?” Sara
tilted her head back to look at him, and her smile slowly faded.
She was unprepared for the myriad emotions in his eyes.
They were beautiful, expressive eyes, and until this very moment,
she thought she had seen every shade of them.
I’m a man of few words, Sara. You
must pay attention. Was
it love she saw reflected among the hunger and the passion and the
confusion? If it wasn’t,
she allowed herself the fantasy. In
any case, her heart and her body had already decided what her brain had
worried much too long. She
was truly his now. “Show
me,” she said softly as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Within
seconds her feet had left the floor and he was carrying her to the sofa.
He laid her down gently against the cushions, and leaned back on
his feet, his eyes never leaving hers as he quickly discarded his tie
and went to work on the buttons of his shirt.
In
her impatience for him, she reached out and touched his hand, halting
his progress on his shirt. Regret
entered his eyes, but quickly morphed to relief when Sara began
rearranging the pillows on the couch.
She lay on her side, and smiled at him, inviting him to join her.
He
kicked off his shoes and stretched out facing her.
His hand roamed her back, and then glided down over her bare
buttocks. “This is what
you do to me,” he said as he drew her firmly against his arousal.
“And this,” he continued, taking her bandaged hand and
placing it on his chest over the rapid beat of his heart.
“I want you so much it hurts.” “I
want you too,” she said breathlessly.
He
combed her hair away from her face with his fingers.
“Show me, Sara. Kiss
me.” She
wrapped her arm around him and slowly brought her lips to his.
He
abandoned himself to her slow and languorous exploration of his lips.
They yielded under her soft and gentle kisses, and then matched
her persistence as her passion flared and sent sharp jolts of need to
her center. When she parted
her lips, he growled his surrender and, pressing her back into the
pillows, ravished her mouth with his tongue. The
extent of his desire evident against her pelvic arch unleashed a need in
Sara so strong it made her dizzy. Her
body responded immediately; she parted her legs and thrust her hips
upward, grinding against his erection.
A searing heat coursed through her and pooled between her legs,
melting away any remnant of modesty.
When
he broke away from her abruptly, a small cry escaped her throat.
“Gris…I need…you.” He
rolled off her as his hands and his eyes feverishly roamed her body,
pausing at the scrap of silk, the last remaining barrier to her body.
He slid his fingers under the delicate band and slipped the
G-string slowly down her legs. “I
love your legs,” he whispered unsteadily, as he ran his hand from her
ankle to her hip, “and your breasts…” Sara gave a shuddering moan
as he sucked a taut nipple into his mouth.
He swirled his tongue around the sensitive peak, and then trailed
his mouth up the heated skin between her breasts to her neck.
“And your neck…” a low growl escaped his throat as he
gently bit the soft skin at the junction of her neck and shoulder,
seemingly finding something pleasurable there, “and your mouth…”
his lips descended slowly to hers for a kiss so passionate, it left her
breathless. Sara
buried her fingers in his hair, and closed her eyes tightly against the
tears that threatened to spill for the beauty of his lovemaking.
When his lips left hers, she opened her eyes and met the dark
fire in his, and she knew then, with the certainty of a woman in love,
that he was also in love with her. A
slow, seductive smile started on her lips. He
looked at her for a long moment. Then,
he closed his eyes and let out a ragged breath.
“What am I doing?” His
voice was husky and full of self-recrimination.
Sara
lifted a hand to his cheek. “Gil…” Carefully,
he removed her hand, and rose to sit on the edge of the sofa, his back
to her. He ran a hand
through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck.
When she reached up and touched his shoulder, he flinched.
“I’ve got to get out of here.” She
watched in astonishment as he stood, slipped on his shoes, grabbed his
jacket and took off without a backward glance. It
took Sara a full minute to process what had just happened, and when she
did, anger like she’d never known hit her full force.
She got up and marched to her bedroom, and her closet.
She yanked a short, dressing gown and slipped it on, tying the
sash around her waist. From
her bedroom window, she watched as Grissom practically flew down the
front steps to his car. He
hopped in and drove away, not bothering to turn on his headlights until
he was almost all the way down the block.
She
stood at the window a long time after his car had disappeared around the
corner. By the time she
returned to the living room, her anger had dissipated into an eerie
numbness. With robotic
movements and precision, she rearranged the cushions on the sofa,
straightened the coffee table, picked up the first-aid kit, the dress,
and the discarded G-string and shoes, and put everything in its place. Satisfied
that she’d removed any reminder of what had happened, she fell
backward onto the soft cushions of the sofa and closed her eyes.
Her chest felt heavy, but she was too tired and too numb to
think. Maybe someday she’d
be able to make sense of it, but for now all she wanted was to lose
herself in sleep. She
dragged her tired limbs up, skirted the sofa, and switched off the light
from the small lamp, pitching the room in darkness.
As she turned, her foot tangled with a silky shred of fabric.
She jumped backward in surprise, and knocked into the coffee
table. “Damn!”
she exclaimed under her breath. She
switched on the light to see the offending object, and there, at her
feet, was his tie. “He
forgot his tie!” An
involuntary burst of laugher started in her throat and spilled into a
sob, as tears, unwanted and uncontrollable poured down her face. Sara
didn’t know how long she sat holding his tie, wondering if she would
ever be free of him. But
eventually the tears stopped. She
lay down, resting her head on the cushion that still held his scent, and
closed her eyes. A
soft knock at the door roused her just as she was about to fall into a
welcome slumber. Moving to a
sitting position, she mechanically wiped her face with the back of her
hands. Couldn’t the man
leave her in peace? “Go
away!” she shouted. She’d
return his damn tie tomorrow…or mail it to him…or better yet,
strangle him with it. “Sara?” Her
eyes flew to the door. She
stood and went to open it. “Blake!
What are you doing here?” “I
saw your light on and—” he took one look at her face and put his
hands on her shoulders. “Honey,
what’s wrong?” Sara stared up at him, unable to speak. Then on a sob, she moved into his welcoming arms and let the tears come.
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