She trembled as she entered the cold apartment. The sun had beaten against her skin the entire day as she combed the desert for evidence, any clues they could possibly find that might give Brass some sort of lead. They'd come up with nothing on a full day's work; today had not been a good day.
The scene was one of only a few that had left her so unsettled. She was covered with blood, having meticulously examined the gore of two bodies, two female bodies, bludgeoned while still alive. It hadn't helped that she had had to work the scene with Grissom. Things had become even more strained between them lately and he watched her like a hawk the entire day, continually asking if she was all right. It was her job, God damn it! Of course she was all right.
Yet deep down she wasn't all right. Their forensic work had matched the DNA to both victims, placing their ages about twenty years apart. Mother and daughter they'd assumed. Two beautiful women, splayed across some barren wasteland, and she still wore the front of being perfectly capable of handling it all. She was fine and that's the way she wanted it to be.
The cold air in the room sank into her sweaty clothes and Sara trembled again. She had shed some of the layers she had worn to the investigation, opting only for the tight sleeveless t-shirt that had been under all her clothing. She drew her knees up into herself as she sat on the couch in her living room thinking about the day. Wrapping her arms around them, she shook her head and silently chastised herself. It would do her no good to keep reliving it. She needed to let it go.
A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. She opened the door and was surprised to see Grissom. "Hey," she drawled tiredly, "What's up?"
Leaning against the frame his eyes took her in, fairly unused to her scantily clad form. He wore an expression of concern, his eyes returning to her face. "I was worried about you. You didn't look like you were feeling too well out there today."
He watched as anger crossed her face. She lifted a brow and drew her arm up to wrap it around her chest, cupping her other shoulder. "Yeah, well, working the desert in a hundred and ten degrees, knee deep in guts tends to do that to a person. A regular person," she added under her breath.
"It's okay," he said softly. "I just wanted to check up on you, that's all. Mind if I come in?" His hand reached up to pull the sunglasses off, giving her his sexy grin.
"Yeah, sure." Standing aside she let him pass, his body brushing hers as he walked by. Involuntarily she trembled once more, only this time not from the heat of the desert, the cold of the apartment, or the grizzly nature of one more crime scene. This tremor was caused by him. Just one simple touch... just one bare brush of his body.
Grissom looked around, shrugging out of his coat, laying it on of her rather contemporary chairs. "It's cold in here. Are you cold?"
"Yeah," she smiled, walking over to the thermometer on the wall kicking the temperature up a few degrees. He surprised her when she turned around to find him standing so close. She jumped, startled by his nearness, her breath catching in her throat to silence her surprise.
"Sorry," he barely whispered, standing back to allow her room to move. "I just wanted to see what you had it set at in here. It's cold enough to freeze meat."
They both laughed and the unexpectedness of it eased their tension. Sara offered him something to drink and they both settled back into the couch.
Sara laid her head back against the covered pillows and closed her eyes breathing a sigh of relief. "Today was rough out there. I can't believe we didn't come up with anything."
"It's a big scene. Forensics may come back with something from the rape kit and then there's always whatever the autopsy shows."
"If there's anything left," she groaned, shivering once more with the sudden flash of the things she'd had to wade through that afternoon. She felt the space between them lessen as Grissom slid close her to her, wrapping an arm around behind her, pulling her into him.
"You know, Sara," he murmured, speaking the words matter-of-factly, trying to hide his concern for her, "you don't always have to be strong. You don't always have to be so brave. Not with me."
For a moment she began to relax into his embrace, but anger soon flared inside her. How could he say these things after all the times she had pursued him and been shot down? With one rough push to his chest she was out of his arms and standing, turning on him with irritation. "Dammit, Grissom. You can't just come into my house and try to get inside my head! You can't just... argggggg!"
Turning away in frustration she swung her balled-up fists, then spun back to face him. "Look! You were the one that pulled away, not me. You want me to be something with you that I can't. Don't come here and expect me to fall apart in your arms when... when..."
He rose from the couch and stood before her, reaching out to brush her matted curls from her forehead. "Don't," she spat back at him, tears beginning to well within her eyes.
"Sara," he whispered, his hand stroking a long wet path, tracing the tear from her cheek to her neck. Once more she trembled. He watched her so closely, her anger turning to sadness, her sadness a cold desperation. The woman before him, so painfully beautiful, so uniquely alive; he had denied his desire for her, but how long could he last?
"You'd better go," she swallowed roughly. His hand had settled at the hollow of her throat while his eyes seemed to devour her image. "Please," she choked. "Just go."
"No," he interrupted. She looked up at him with a new tide of anger, but he stayed it by placing his other hand to her cheek. Her cold skin grew warm with the caress of his palm. "No."
He stood there like a teenager unsure of himself. The hand at her throat slid slowly around her neck, settling behind the fall of her hair. He felt her shudder as his thumb began to slowly stroke her skin and he stepped closer to her. Sara... Sara Sidle... the woman that had so utterly captured and beguiled him; he was holding her in a way he had only imagined and two things warred inside him: fear and longing. He hadn't pushed her away because he didn't want her; he had refused her because he needed her too much to risk her walking out of his life forever. Now in these silent moments, he could think of no where on earth he'd rather be.
"Gris," she drew in, gauging his response. "I just can't make myself vulnerable, not... not like this."
"Shh," he soothed, stroking his other hand over her lips. Her lips caressed his fingers, surprising them both with her kiss. With a smile he leaned into her, kissing the back of his own hand that hovered over her lips before removing it suddenly. His hot breath replaced his hand and she whimpered under the heat of it. He stared intently into her eyes, his mouth parting, touching hers, sucking against her bottom lip before kissing her fully.
Sara couldn't move. Her body froze solid to that spot, the hot moisture of Grissom's mouth eating at her lips. A thousand thoughts crossed her mind in that second. Why was he kissing her? Where would it end? Would he let her touch him? God, she wanted that more than anything. His soft lips nibbled at hers, his eyes finally closed and she felt him moan quietly as she kissed him back. Her hands slid down his shoulders, fingertips memorizing his shape until they settled at his hips, pulling him roughly to her.
With an unexpected jolt he met her body and her arm wrapped around his shoulder as she clung to him. He pushed her to the wall, her mouth now consuming him, his body responding to every urgent touch. The small shirt she had worn climbed up her bare stomach, giving his hands the first touch of her skin.
Breaking away from their initial kiss his lips found her neck. He suckled her flesh, kneading her skin, his fingers climbing up her narrow waist, her muscles taut beneath his hands. Her body was heaving as she panted beneath his command, her legs drawing up and around him, her head thrown back to give him more room to explore. And explore he did, tasting every inch of her chin to collarbone, listening to each breathless cry until he finally looked up to meet her eyes.
"You said you can't, Sara. But I think you can." His voice was deep and gravely, powerful and imposing.
