A/N: That's for reading--we reposted this change with a change to one word! Sorry!

Valentine's Day Chapter 3

He reached for her hand. "Sara," he whispered again. She let him take her hand and he brought it to his lips, lightly kissing it. Her eyes were closed but he could see the line of tears along her lashes. "Honey—I won't—we'll work things out." He moved from the stool to where Sara sat, the laughter and happiness gone from her eyes and face. Her eyes remained downcast, her shoulders slumped. "Look at me, Sara."

She lifted her head. Her hand came to cover his, folding around his so both of her hands enveloped his. "I'd know your hands anywhere," she said.

"Why?" He asked, his breath caught at this odd statement.

"They're so beautiful—so reassuring."

He reached to touch her face, pushing a curl away from her cheek before sliding an arm around her back and pulling her toward him. "They love you," he said, "along with the rest of me. I've always loved you, Sara."

It seemed the sun blazed a brighter light, unfiltered as the curtains moved with a breeze. Just before he closed his eyes to kiss her in a soft, tentative way, he saw her brown eyes had changed again. For longer than either realized, they kissed knowing nothing except the contact of their lips, the touch of hands as they held each other afraid of losing what had brought them together. When he eased his arms away from her back and took her face between his hands, he felt an odd sensation before realizing it was pleasure. One of them moaned and, when he saw her smile, he realized the sound came from him.

Around them the warm air moved lightly, stirred the pages of her book, lifted a few papers from her desk, and exited the window pulling the curtains against the screen. Far away, it seemed, a dog barked and muffled traffic sounds drifted in, but neither was aware of any of this…

Sara knew the fruit was a peace offering—his way of making things right between them; an unexpected but welcomed offer. As she had opened her door for him, she realized how she looked—not good—hair pulled back in a hasty ponytail, a pair of shorts and an old tee-shirt with white socks on her feet. They had laughed and talked as they ate the fruit until she dripped chocolate and, quite suddenly, the atmosphere around them changed when he touched her fingers. He had said the words and they could not be recovered; she had them permanently etched in her brain; at first, it had scared her until she realized he was sincere, and a fleeting expression crossed his face, one so short-lived she almost missed it. He was frightened by his words.

Grissom drew Sara so hard against his chest, holding the back of her head with his hand, fingers pressed into her scalp, that he could feel her heart pounding between the swells of her breasts. When she opened the door, wearing a thin tee shirt and white socks, the look on her face was one of frustration bordered with disappointment until she saw the fruit. It had made her laugh and suddenly, he knew what he had missed for months.

"It's okay—we were meant for this," he said. For the first time in a very long time, he knew he was doing the right thing.

She moved slightly, placing her lips against his neck, tasting his skin with her tongue, feeling the heat as she pressed her face against his flesh. Her lips moved from below his ear to his throat finding his racing pulse along the way. She kissed his chest where his shirt was opened, moved back to his lips, and while kissing him there, she begin to unfastened each button on his shirt, sliding her warm hands around him once she got it open.

"Wait," he said, and took a baby step away from her, holding her with his arms locked around her. When she looked at him, her brown eyes were dark lipid pools of happiness tinged with something else, a smile tugged across her lips.

"I've waited long enough, Grissom." Her hands slipped from his back to his butt and she pulled him to her, pressing hips together. A puzzled look came across her face. She giggled. "Ahh—Grissom, is there something—unusual—I think that's the word—going on?"

It was his turn to be puzzled. Then he laughed, letting go of her with one hand and plunging it into his pocket. "I forgot about these." He pulled out a pair of socks, bright red, an expensive hiker's brand. "To replace your cheap ones."

They both laughed, their foreheads touching before they kissed again. Gradually, in a slow motion dance of lovers, they moved. Twice, he asked if she was sure about "this". She answered by kissing him, parting her lips, sweeping her tongue against his teeth in slow sensual motions. His response was to breathe, literally pulling her inside his mouth. He led her, or she propelled him, into her bedroom which was much darker than the rest of her apartment. And in the dim, shadowy space, he undressed her, lifting the shirt over her head, unsnapping her shorts, pulling them into a puddle around her ankles. She stepped out of them, wearing nothing but blue panties and her white socks, and let him stare. His hands went first to her waist, his thumbs traced along each hip bone, then back to her waist. He glanced at her face before letting his eyes flicker to her breasts, then back to her face.

Sara stood still, seeing his face change as his hands moved over her body—soft, strong hands—and his eyes changed to a beautiful cerulean blue—like the sky, she thought, knowing an avalanche was occurring, an entire history sliding away. His eyes returned to hers and for a moment, she saw hesitation.

He said, "I can't believe how beautiful you are." He breathed, struggled for a few seconds before speaking. "I—I—I didn't come prepared for this," he stammered as if a new thought had suddenly entered his brain.

She knew. She knew what he was thinking without him saying more. Her hands went to his face, holding it just as he had held hers earlier, her palms against his cheeks, her fingers threaded in his hair.

"Oh, Grissom," she whispered as she moved against his body. She felt his hands circle her body, pulling her closer. She felt his belt buckle, cool against her skin, right above her navel. "Do you trust me?" She asked.

He nodded.

"Neither of us has reason to worry."

She folded the covers back on her bed. His shirt came off, followed by his tee-shirt. Sara noticed the unblemished skin across his shoulders. She leaned into the smoothness of his chest.

"I've wanted you for years," he said in a voice low and husky with desire before lowering her to the bed. His pants were pushed off and, for some unknown reason, they laughed as he stripped his socks off and, turning to her, lifted each leg and gently rolled the socks from her feet. He frowned slightly as his finger stroked the pad of her foot where the blisters had formed, but when she giggled, he smiled. She lifted her hips to slide off her panties, but his hand stopped her. Slowly, his hands held her hips, his thumbs slipped underneath the fabric along her leg, and little by little, he removed her panties. As she lay naked on her bed, his hand holding her knee, he bent and kissed the tattoo on her foot before stretching beside her.

The first time they made love it was fast, furiously passionate, entirely satisfying, and over too quickly. And they never separated, as she fit against his shoulder in a very natural way, as he found it nearly impossible to keep his hands from touching her. He had moments that seemed amplified by the movement and feel of their bodies—how all his life had come to this time. Later, he would think of these hours as a conversation with eloquent voices sharing secrets that no one else would ever know but he could not remember the words spoken.

The second and third times of making love—and after that, they lost count--they took time to explore each other. Sara teased and kissed and tasted every intimate surface of his body; some places he had never thought about as intimate became so when her lips touched his skin. To her, she found perfection with his responses, with the quiet calmness in bringing them together, and the immense control he exerted until he entered her. Then he became hers, solely, exclusively, as he plunged, and she drew him in, both greedy with desire.

For Grissom, all that filled his mind was the incredible fact that he loved this woman—had loved her for as long as she had loved him. He was overwhelmed by the sight of her, her smell, her taste, her response, and he could not get enough of her.

Hours passed; darkness came outside, and still, they remained in bed. Grissom rolled out of the bed once, pulled on his boxers, went to the kitchen and brought bottles of water to the bedside.

Sara giggled when he returned. "It's just us here—why the boxers?"

"I'm calling in." He searched for his pants and phone.

His statement made no sense to Sara. "But why put on your…"

He held up one finger. "Catherine," he said into the phone, "I've got some things to do tonight, so take charge. Sophia will be in and Warrick can work with her—call if you need me. Oh—Sara's off—she—she hurt her foot and needs to rest it." He ended the conversation before he got anything but an "okay".

Sara doubled over with laughter. He smirked that goofy grin and said, "I can't talk to Catherine without some clothes on," he growled.

He stopped her giggles by kissing her, and with slow, sensual pleasure they were aroused again. It took all his control not to immediately possess her as he slid palms down her spine, feeling the firm curve of her backside as his hands urged her snugly against his rigid, aroused state. He kissed her throat, moved to the swell of her breast and kissed along the valley between them. With one hand, he was touching her in the most intimate way, playing with secret feminine places that made her gasp and moan.

The heat of Sara's skin was so intense that it was all he could do to swallow his groan of raw need. Her face was one of passion and awe, understanding what was happening between them; he knew she had reached that point of no return as he felt waves of contractions against his fingers. He moved quickly, easing himself into her body, filling her as she arched against him. Her body tensed; her fingernails pressed against his back before he lost conscious thought, before waves of passion swept through his body.

Some time later, before midnight, they managed to get out of bed. Both showered, not together, not this time, but he held a towel for her as she stepped from her shower.

"Okay?" He asked.

"Yes." She nodded, smiling with eyes that mesmerized him.

Sara turned on music, stirred eggs together and made a simple omelet while he showered. They sat on the floor and ate because, out of bed, that was where they could be the closest to each other.

"Happy Valentine's Day," she said. She wound her arm through his, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways," he said.

She picked it up. "I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach."

"I love thee to the level of every day's most quiet need, by sun and candle-light."

"I love thee with the breadth, smiles, tears, of all my life!"

He ended, "And, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death."

They remained where they were, on the floor of her living room where he sat between her knees, his head resting on her chest as her long, slim fingers stroked his face.

A long time later, she said, "We can not tell anyone—not yet."

His eyes opened. "I could change shifts—work swing."

"No, I don't want that. I don't want anyone to know about us—this is private. No one else needs to know until we decide—until we want to tell."

"Are you sure?"

She laughed. "Yes, I guess you haven't noticed—but I like my privacy."

She heard him chuckle as he closed his eyes.

He returned his head to the spot between her breasts, which he had discovered were just the right size, thinking this was what life with Sara was going to be: peace and passion, warmth and desire, quiet and goodness, sitting beside her feeling this way and missing her when she wasn't next to him. He smiled when he felt her lips touch the top of his head.

Socks, he thought, who could have guessed.

The End! Enjoy!

A/N: Thanks for reading and all your comments and reviews! Another "M" rated story up soon!