I like Catherine's breasts.

There, I admitted it. I like Catherine's breasts. Now, to be fair and not to sound like a total pervert, I like all of Catherine. I like her mind, her strong will, the way she doesn't take any shit off of anyone. I like her tenacity and her dedication to her job. I like everything about her. But I really, really like her breasts. Not that I've seen them, mind you. Not unclothed, but in my fantasies, I've seen them. And they're perfect.

No one knows that I'm a breast man. I've heard guys talk about what they like about women; legs, asses, breasts, mouths, hair. No one ever asked me what I liked and I sure didn't volunteer any information. I'm private that way. Catherine would say I'm private in every way. I guess I am.

Anyway, back to Catherine's breasts. I find it extremely difficult to concentrate on my job when they're staring at me. She wears these shirts. . .well all the clothes she wears demands attention. Take tonight for example. She's wearing these black knits slacks that are molded to her long legs and perfect ass. And her shirt, it's this red, shimmery thing. Buttoned up the front. Of course the top two buttons are undone; they always are, giving just a hint of cleavage. I wish she'd put me out of my misery and come in one night with it all the way unbuttoned, or better yet, no shirt at all. But that might just make it worse. I fantasize about her enough with the occasional glimpses of her creamy breasts. If she did, I might throw her down on the table and ravish her, the way I do in my fantasies. Yes, I fantasize. And yes, I occasionally, when the desire gets too much, take care of it myself. Everyone does. They just don't talk about it. It's not like you sit around and ask someone, "Who do you think of when you masturbate?" It's just not done. But I think of Catherine. Not that I think anything will ever happen between us. We've been friends for too long. But in my dreams, I tell her of my love for her and she returns the feelings. In your dreams, anything is possible, right?

I see a pair of blue eyes staring at me, a puzzled look in them and I realize I've trailed off right in the middle of handing out assignments. Shit! She knows I'm staring at her. God, this is embarrassing. I flush a bit and look back to the file I was reading from. Earth, open up and swallow me now.

"Are you okay, Grissom?" she asks me and I nod, trying desperately not to react to her voice. It's low and musical and I feel my groin tighten, as I think of what it would sound like, breathless and whispering in my ear. Think of something else! Now! I force myself to think of something else, like roach races or dead bodies, anything but her.

"Fine," I hear myself mumble. "Just thinking." Brilliant, Grissom. You have just confirmed that you were thinking and she knows (she's not stupid) that you were staring at her breasts and thinking. It doesn't take a genius to know where your thoughts were. Not too mention your ears are red.

I continue reading from the file, giving pertinent details to the others, while cursing the fact that I paired her and I up on a remote case. How am I going to survive the hour drive one way with no one but her to distract me? Maybe I did it on purpose. All I know is it will be hell to sit next to the woman I love for that long. And I do love her. I've loved her since. . .well, since forever, it seems. I know she doesn't feel the same. I'm not stupid; I know I'm not exciting enough for her. Maybe one of these nights, I'll tell her. Yeah, right, Gil. Did you just fall out of the stupid tree? There is no way a woman like that would want a man like you. Get real. Then again, miracles do happen.

One of these nights.

*********************************

I can't think when he stares at me like that. It makes my nerves tingle and I get goose bumps all over my skin. His eyes are amazing, so blue and so intense, it's like they can see straight through me and read my inner thoughts. I know he's staring at my boobs and I nervously play with the buttons on my shirt, suppressing the urge to either button the shirt all the way or just rip the damn thing off and thrust them in his face. I'd love to do the latter, but I really doubt he'd even notice. Okay, he'd notice. His blue eyes would widen and he'd get that maddening smirk on his face and he'd say something like, "Did you want something, Catherine?" Yes, I do. I want you and I want you now. I want your mouth, that damn mouth that has driven me mad with desire for years, fastened somewhere on my body. Anywhere. I'm not that picky. Well, okay, there are a couple places that I would REALLY like his mouth. But I'd take anything.

It's his mouth that gets me going. He's got these lips that I know would be soft and hard, subtle and demanding. His tongue, God, I bet it's amazing. I see it whenever he's concentrating on something. He bites the tip of it in an innocent, yet completely sexy way. How many times have I thought about taking that tongue deep in my mouth? Countless. That's the thing about Gil, he has no idea just how sexy he is, and I know he'd be uncomfortable to know that I think that. So does Sara, I can see it in her eyes. She isn't skilled enough to hide it; she stares at him in a totally adoring way that makes me want to gouge her eyes out. And don't think I can't or won't do it.

Thank God for pantiliners, that's all I have to say. Without them, I'd have to bring about five pairs of panties with me to work. I bet he thinks, if he's even noticed, that I have the world's smallest bladder with all the trips I make to the bathroom. If he only knew. Just recently, we'd been paired up on a case and he'd gotten intense; really upset at a witness and I was completely turned on by the way he got into the suspect's face. Then, as we were leaving the interrogation room, he touched the small of my back and I had to excuse myself. I practically ran to the bathroom. I'm embarrassed when I think of how I pleasured myself, right there in the bathroom of LVPD CSI headquarters, one hand on the wall of the stall and the other. . .well, let's just say the other knew the way. I am a woman with a healthy sex drive and if no one is around, well, sometimes I have to take care of 'business' myself. But always to thoughts of Gil; always. It didn't take long, not long at all, but I couldn't help it. It was either that or throw him on the floor right then and there. Somehow I don't think he'd have appreciated that. After I cleaned myself up, I stood on shaky legs and made my way to the sink, and washed my hands like 5 times. I had to make sure the sex smell was gone. He looked at me curiously when I showed up in his office a few minutes later, but he didn't say anything. Thank God for that.

I love this man, more than I've loved anyone else, ever. But I know, I KNOW he doesn't feel the same. How could he? A man like him would never go for a woman like me. I mean, I used to strip for a living. It's not that I regret or am ashamed of what I used to do, but it's not something I want the entire world to know. I've fought against the preconceived notion of strippers since I danced. At least he's never treated me like I'm a stupid whore. I'm sure he didn't even think that. That's another thing I love about him. His ability to be completely nonjudgmental.

But back to his mouth, I'd love to feel his mouth under mine. Or fastened to the breasts he was just staring at. Why was he staring? Is he interested? Or was he just lost in thought. I’m hoping that he's interested; otherwise I've wasted a small fortune in clothes. Okay, not wasted, because I like to look nice. It's just the way I am. I've always been like that. I feel good when I look good. It's that simple. Having the attention of Gil Grissom is a benefit. A major benefit, too be sure.

And now I'm going to be trapped in the Tahoe with him for an hour. Not too mention the hour back. And all alone at the scene. Just the two of us and not a bathroom to escape to. This is going to be a long night. I fight the urge to bang my head on the table in frustration and try to concentrate on what he's saying, but. . . Damn! There's that tongue again. I will never survive this night.

***********************************

"Catherine, would you stop swearing." I'm frustrated myself. "We're stuck out here and there's nothing we can do about it. You cussing isn't going to make it any easier."

I cannot believe this happened to us. Two CSI's, two intelligent people and we get ourselves stuck at a crime scene. Okay, it's not our fault the battery in the Tahoe died. But how many brain cells does it take to remember to charge your cell? Not that I'm much better; I left my phone on my desk. I don't have a charger in the Tahoe; where did that thing go anyway? Not that we could charge it, the battery's dead. So we're stuck out here in the middle of nowhere, no phone at our disposal, a car that's dead and Catherine's language rivaling the men's locker room after the Cubs lost 10 in a row. Where did she learn those words?

"What kind of person doesn't have a phone?" she asks me.

"I don't know. Maybe he had a cell phone, but whoever did this took it." I watched as she paced back and forth under the light from the light post, her red-gold hair swaying around her shoulders. God, she's gorgeous. I'd love to bury my face and hands in her hair, inhaling the fragrance of her shampoo, feeling the silkiness under my fingers. Boy, have I got it bad for her. I'm getting hard just thinking about it. But that's my life; I'm in a constant state of arousal. Maybe I can just blame it on the fact that I haven't had sex in forever. But I know that's not it. I'm in love with Catherine Willows, that's the problem.

Well, there was Lady Heather, but she didn't count. It was just once and she was a substitute for Catherine. And she knew it. I feel kind of bad about that. I've never used a woman before. I was intrigued by her, her mind that is. And she wasn't that bad to look at, but nothing close to Catherine. The sex was okay, not great, nothing to write home about. Yeah, like I'm gonna write my mother and tell her that I banged a dominatrix. She'd just ask me how Catherine was anyway. Mom really likes Catherine. And Catherine really likes mom. It would be a perfect situation if only Catherine felt the same way about me as I did about her.

And while I'm standing here, leaning against the Tahoe, my arms folded across my chest, watching her pace, I'm thankful that it's dark outside and she can't see my erection. I'd want to die if she did. Women were damn lucky in that aspect. When they got turned on, they could hide it. They didn't stand there with their pants tented like men did.

"Do you have any Kleenex?" Suddenly she's standing right in front of me. How the hell did she get here without me knowing?

"I think so, let me check." I went around to the driver's side of the Tahoe, rummaged in the console and pulled out a small packet of Kleenex. "Why?" I asked her as I handed it over.

She speared me with a look. "Because I have to pee, Gil."

"I told you that you shouldn't have had that huge latte." One of the first rules of being a CSI; you don't use the facilities at a crime scene. You touch only what you need to process the scene and that's it.

"Oh, bite me, I needed the caffeine," she shot back, a small smile on her beautiful face.

Now, other people, Sara for example would have gotten offended by that remark. Not me, my mind is instantly conjuring up places on her body that I would love to bite. Not hard, teeth-mark leaving bites, but little love nips. Bites that would leave the skin branded, branded by me. Now that was something to think about.

She turned and walked around the corner of the house, leaving me standing there. I almost asked her if she needed help with her zipper, but I decided not to. I'd let her relieve herself in peace. I occupied myself with thoughts of how she could relieve me. I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head at the images of her lips wrapped around my erection, using a combination of lips, tongue and teeth to bring me to orgasm. I think it'd take about 30 seconds, maybe less, as embarrassing as that would be. I just know she'd be good at that. Just like I know she'd be great at sex. And it's not because she used to be a stripper and not because she has ever said, "I give great head." She's not like that. She just has this sensual, sexy way about her, without her even being aware of it. With some women, you just know. I feel like a pervert, thinking of her in that way.

*************************************

I can't believe I'm doing this with Gil standing a few yards away. I've been dreaming for years of Gil removing my pants, but obviously not for this reason. I finished as quickly as I could. He was right; I shouldn’t have gotten that latte. But it tasted so good. And I really did need the caffeine. I refused to be embarrassed about my 'nature call' and stood, pulling up my panties and slacks, arranging everything. God, I wish it were his hands arranging. I turned to flush, and shook my head at myself. Second nature, I guess. I also wanted to wash my hands, but with no sink. . .Wait, I have those sanitizing wipes of Lindsey's in my purse. Yes.

I walk back to the Tahoe, inwardly cursing the advanced technology that got us into this. Three years ago, we would have had two-way radios in the car. But no, they had to get in on the wireless craze and now, instead of radios, they hand out pagers and cell phones. If I had just remembered to charge my cell, we wouldn't be in this trouble. How long is it going to take them to realize something is wrong? And how are we going to pass the time?

I know what I'd like to do. I'd like to make love to Gil until neither one of us can walk. I'd like to lose myself in him, to bring him to orgasm over and over again. I want to feel his erection in my mouth, hot and hard. I like oral sex. I don't do it out of some kind of self-sacrificing reason. Some women say they do it because they love their husbands, boyfriends or whatever and feel like a blowjob is the ultimate way of showing them. Not me. I’m purely selfish about it. I like the feeling of power it gives me, and I just like it. I'm not a slut; I've been with very few men in my life, contrary to what some people think, and I've never used sex to get what I want. Not for jewelry or money or anything else. I just really enjoy sex. Nothing wrong with that; most men love it.

Paul Newstead said I was sexually aggressive. I think it turned him off. That and the fact that he was only fulfilling a need for me. I needed to feel wanted and needed and he did that. I'd just gotten divorced and I didn't want any romantic entanglements, just sex. He was the first and only man I've been with since Eddie and I don't think he could handle that, so I stopped seeing him. Anyway, the man I really wanted was Gil, Paul was just a substitute and he knew it. I hurt him and I feel bad about it. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. Or anyone. I can be blunt and to the point, but I'm not callous or a bitch. I really don't enjoy hurting people.

Gil is leaning on the bumper of the Tahoe, looking at the night sky and my breath catches in my throat as I gaze at him. God, I love him so much. I wish I had the courage to tell him and that he felt the same. Tears fill my eyes and I blink them back. I have this awful, sinking feeling that he has feelings for Sara and not for me. If he ever acted on those feelings, I don't think I'd be able to stay in Vegas. And I hate the thought of that. I don't want anyone to think that I'm weak or that I can't handle it, but that would kill me. I know it would. I sigh and continue over to the Tahoe.

"Feel better?" he asked me and I automatically reply in the affirmative. But I don't.

"How long do you think it will take before they notice we're stuck out here?"

"Well, its three now. I'd say by four or so they'll realize something is up and then it'll take them over an hour to get here. Probably close to six. Maybe sooner."

"Almost three hours. Great." I answer as I pull open the door and get my purse. I fish out the wipes and clean my hands. It's not ideal, but it'll work. I spot my nail polish and take it out. I situate myself on the front seat and take off my shoes and socks. No time like the present to paint my toenails. Not like I have anything better to do anyway. I tuck my hair behind my ears and rest my chin on my knees.

"What are you doing?"

I look up at Gil who is watching me with this intense look on his face. There's something in his eyes that I can't quite identify. I think it's desire, but it's probably just my wishful thinking. And it is dark. That one light doesn't travel very far; I'm having a hard time seeing my toenails.

"Hand me your flashlight."

"Why?" he asks as he hands me his flashlight.

"I'm going to paint my nails," I answer him with a smile and put the light in my mouth, pointing it to my toes. Great, now I'm going to drool because I can't swallow with the flashlight in my mouth. For some reason I start with my big toe, or thumb toe as Lindsey used to call it, on my left foot. I always start with my left foot. I carefully paint the first one, aware of how Gil is watching me. Normally being watched doesn't bother me, but this is Gil and I'm starting to get a little nervous. I put the brush back in the bottle, take the light out of my mouth and ask,

"Do you want to do this?"

"I wouldn't know how." My ears perk up; he didn't say no.

"It's easy," I reply. For some reason, the thought of Gil painting my toenails is a turn on. But then, I find just about everything about Gil a turn on. It's been over a year since I've had sex with someone other than myself and to say I'm horny is the understatement of the century. Not that I haven't had offers; I've had plenty, but I want more than just sex. I want everything that goes with it. Love, respect, admiration. I want a relationship and I want it with Gil. Even my daughter is crazy about him; she's always asking me how come I don't date him. How can you explain to a nine year old the finer points of loving someone who doesn't love you back?

He declines my offer and I put the flashlight in my mouth and continue with my painting. After years of doing this, I'm able to finish my left foot quickly and move to my right, and quickly paint those toes too. Candy-Apple Red. He's still watching me; I can feel his eyes boring into the top of my head. What is he thinking? I know he's thinking; he's always thinking. Sometimes it drives me nuts.

**************************************

"What would I do if I could do anything for a living? Other than a CSI?" I repeat her question, making sure I have it right. She'd finished painting her toes and I was balanced on the running board of the Tahoe looking up at her. Or trying to look at her, she'd turned off the flashlight to save the batteries.

"Yeah. You already have the skills to do it. Whatever it is. But it can't be related to what you do now."

"Pitcher for the Cubs." I answer her, holding my breath. I've never told anyone that. Not even my mother. Everyone knows I like baseball, but no one knows that I would play it professionally if I could.

"Wow, baseball." I hear her say, admiration in her voice. And if it is possible, I love her even more. She's always so uplifting, but she's not afraid to bust my balls if I need it. I look at her and wonder just what she's thinking. "What would you do?"

"Photographer. And not the ones that take pictures of models all day, but more like a photojournalist." I had no idea that she liked to take pictures. No wonder she was the first to grab the camera.

"You'd be great at that," I tell her and watch the smile light up her face. I wish there was more light, so I could really see her face.

"Okay, another question. If you could do anything and there were no repercussions to it, what would you do? It doesn't have to be legal."

"Where do you come up with these questions?" I know exactly what I would do. I stand up and stretch slightly, my knees are killing me. I feel her hand on mine and I turn back to her.

"Tell me," she grins at me. "How would you kill Ecklie?"

"I wouldn’t kill Ecklie." And it's the truth. He's not worth the time. I summon the courage from somewhere and take her face in my hands, caressing her cheeks with my thumbs. I have no idea why I chose this moment to clue her into my feelings, maybe it's because I'm tired of hiding. I watch as her eyes widen in surprise and her tongue snakes out and moistens her bottom lip. I tilt her head up and lower my mouth to hers. The kiss is soft, a caress really, but I feel the shock waves roll over me. And I want more. But I pull back; I want to see her reaction.

"Why did you do that?" Leave it to Catherine to ask.

"You asked me what I'd do and that was it," I answer her, leaving out what else I'd like to do.

"Was it good?" I smile. I think she's in shock, her eyes are wide and I can feel her body trembling.

"I don't know. Let me kiss you again and I'll tell you." Where in the hell did all this courage come from? She smiled and I leaned forward and kissed her again, taking my time, savoring it. Her lips are so incredibly soft. I want even more. But I'm going to leave that up to her.

***************************

Oh my God, Gil Grissom is kissing me! It's a caress really. But it's leading to. . .there, more pressure. My mouth opens and I touch his bottom lip with my tongue. His mouth opens and I snake my tongue inside, meeting his. I hear myself moan as I feel the shockwave travel through my body. He explores the inner recesses of my mouth, doing a thorough job and I feel the rush of moisture between my legs. Another pair of panties soaked through. What this man does to me should be illegal. And all he's done is kiss me.

I can't breathe and I push him back a bit. I see the disappointment in his eyes, and I know he's misunderstood. I step on the running board and wrap my arms around his neck, gazing down into his eyes. My legs are shaking and I'm gasping from both desire and lack of oxygen. I feel his arms slide around my waist, pulling my pelvis closer to him. That's right. Closer. I want to be closer; I need to be closer. Smiling, I bend my head down and kiss him, exploring his mouth with the same precision and passion that he did mine. I can feel his erection against my thigh. He's not totally hard, not yet, but it's promising. Very promising.

We continue to kiss for what seems like forever, but yet no time at all. I do believe that time has stood still, as has the earth. Everything faded away except for him and me. Every nerve ending in my body is alive and on fire. God, he is an amazing kisser. Even better than I'd dreamed of. A total Revenge of The Nerds thing.

His mouth moves to my ear and I almost go insane. My ear. . .Oooohh, his tongue. Shit! My knees buckle and I almost fall, hitting my head against the doorframe. I gasp again, from either from pain or desire, and he pulls back, concern written on his face.

"Are you okay?" he asks me.

I nod; the pain has receded into a dim memory. All I can feel is the desire flowing through me. I want him inside of me now. My shaking fingers moving to the buttons of his shirt, opening them one at a time, my eyes never leaving his. He can stop me at any time. But he doesn't. He just reaches out and unbuttons my shirt, sliding it over my shoulders and down my arms.

Some rational part of my brain reminds me that we are at a crime scene and I almost stop, but then he runs his hands down my chest, cupping my breasts and I tell the voice to shut the hell up, moaning at his ministrations. He quickly finds the clasp in the front of my bra and with one flick of his fingers it's undone. He obviously knows his way around bras. I push back the irrational jealousy of how he's gotten that knowledge. I quit trying to take his shirt off when his mouth moves over my right breast, drawing the hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking gently at first, and then increasing the pressure. I'm going insane now. I know I am. Custer's army could come charging down the road at this point and I wouldn't care. Nothing was going to stop us now. I was going to make sure of that.

I quickly shake off my shirt and bra and run my fingers through the graying hair at his temples, holding him to me. My knees buckle again and he raises his head, replacing his mouth with his hand. No! Don't stop, my brain shouts, but I can't form the words.

**************************************

Right now I'm thinking three things. One, I've got my hands on Catherine's breasts. Two, she's totally into it, and three, I've got my hands on Catherine's breasts. Okay, technically it's only two thoughts, but you get the idea. I run my hands down her torso to the waistband of her slacks and undo the button. I realize that this isn't the ideal place for this, but it's gone too far to stop now. Her fingers dig into my shoulders and I look up at her, seeing the desire in her eyes. Even in the dim light, I can see that.

"Back seat," she whispers, her voice low and husky.

I nod and pull her close. There's not enough room in the front seat, not that it's much bigger in the back, but any extra space is appreciated. She wraps her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist and I step backward and carry her to the back door, every movement thrusting my erection against her center. Shit! I'm not going to last long. I can tell by her breathing that she is as turned on as I am. I open the back door and carefully, wouldn't do for me to slam her head into the doorframe, that's already happened; I lower her onto the seat. She scoots back, but I stop her before she gets very far.

"Pants," I mutter and quickly unzip her slacks and pull them off, throwing them onto the front seat. I move to take off her panties, but stop and stare at her. She's propped up on her elbows, watching me. Damn, she's gorgeous. Slowly, keeping my eyes on hers, I slide my hands up her calves and thighs to her panties, my thumbs just brushing her center. She moans, her hips arching up and her eyes sliding closed, and I smile. Oh, I'm definitely going to go back there. Don't worry; Cath, there's plenty of time. I hook my fingers under the elastic of her panties and pulled them off.

She's completely nude now and I realize I've done her an injustice. Her body is far more spectacular than in any of my fantasies. Her left foot is resting on the floor and her right knee bent, resting against the leather of the seat back; she's open and ready for me. My eyes follow the lines of her legs, up her thighs, her center, the small triangle of pubic hair, her flat stomach, and over her breasts, finally resting on her face. This woman is drop dead gorgeous. I kick off my shoes and toss them into the front of the Tahoe, my shirt following them. My hands move to my pants, but her soft voice stops me.

"Wait. I want to take them off."

I nod and carefully climb into the back seat, shutting the door behind me. She shifts over and I straddle her waist. Her hands quickly move to the waistband of my pants and I hold my breath. I've never been so aroused before and I'm not sure she is going to be able to get my pants undone and over my throbbing erection. But she does, her hands moving slowly and deliberately. She pushes my pants and boxers down as far as they would go. Oh God! Her hand! Oh fuck! My breath hisses out as her thumb grazes the tip of my penis. I have to stop her or it will be too late. I want to be inside of her when I. . .My mind blanks out for a second and I grab her wrists. Damn, but that was close.

"No," I grind out between clenched teeth. "It'll be over too soon."

**********************************

He asks me to stop and I do. But I don't want to. I love the feeling of his erection in my hand, so hot and oh, so very hard. But as much as I love the feeling in my hand, I want him inside of me. I want him like I've never wanted anyone else. Not even Eddie, and I have to admit, sex with Eddie was great. Even toward the end when things were bad, the sex was great. After I found out about his cheating, I wouldn't let him touch me. I didn't want him near me when I didn't know where he'd been and who he'd been with. It was disgusting to me, knowing that he'd been inside of another woman; I couldn't stand the thought of him being inside of me.

I'm nervous, and not just an excited nervous, but deep down, gut churning nervous. What if I don't please him? There's not a doubt in my mind that he can please me, but what if I'm not good enough, not skilled enough? It's been a long time. Maybe I've forgotten.

He's taking his pants off now, pushing them down his legs and dropping them onto the floor. God, he has such a nice ass. I hate it when he wears those long jackets and shirts. It covers up his ass and I love to walk behind him and stare. I swear Warrick caught me once, because he looked at me and grinned.

Gil turned to me and ran his hands over my legs, following the same path he'd followed earlier. Again, his thumbs just brushed my center, increasing my frustration and desire to the point where I wanted to scream. I reach up and caress his face with one hand, the other sliding over his shoulders, pulling him to me. I can't wait anymore. I think I'm going to faint from anticipation as it is.

"Are you ready?" he asks and I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Am I ready? Hell, yes, I'm ready. I'm so wet that I'm almost embarrassed about it. Almost. He kisses me, his tongue hot and wet and I gasp, my entire body tensing as he teases me with his penis. Fuck! I can't wait anymore and I growl in impatience.

"Impatient?"

I'm beyond impatience, I'm into desperation now, and I have no shame, none at all as I beg him, practically panting with need. "Please, Gil. Hurry. I want you inside me now." I'm about to do it myself if he doesn't. . .Oh God! I stop breathing as he thrusts into me, filling me completely. God, he feels so good. So incredibly, fucking good. I meet his thrusts with my own, my fingers digging into his shoulders. The feelings are almost overwhelming and I know I'm not going to last long. He's hitting every spot. . .right there. Oh, shit! My head falls back and I hear these sounds, panting and whimpering, and I realize they're coming from me. I put one hand over my head, against the door to keep my head from hitting it as the force of his thrusts increase.

"God, yes! Fuck me, harder," I hear myself pant and I know I'm going to be embarrassed by that later. God, I sound like one of those porno flicks Eddie used to make me sit through. I never talk like that, but right now. . .Oh my fucking God! My muscles tense and the orgasm slams into me and I scream his name, my muscles clenching and unclenching around him. Before it's over the tension starts building again and I know I'm going to come again. Shit!!

His mouth is on mine, his tongue mimicking the actions of his pelvis. I want to move, to meet his thrusts, but all I can do is hold on and try to breathe. I can feel the sweat on my body mixing with his and the Tahoe smells of sex. His hand moves down over my clit and his finger. . .God, his finger! Before I can take a breath, I'm over the edge again, this time taking him with me.

**********************************

Oh my God! I can't believe how good she feels. My body is in sensory overload. Her legs, those incredibly long legs wrapped around my waist and her arms holding me against her as I thrust into her again and again. She's so tight, so tight and wet and I hold on as long as I can, but when her muscles spasm around me, I know I can't wait. I want her to come with me so I move my hand down to her clit and. . .Oh God!

I feel my body tense and I thrust into her one last time, my orgasm rocking me to my core. Jesus! I can't think and I collapse on her, trying to breathe. She doesn't make it easy for me, kissing me like that. God, does she know how to kiss. I lever myself on my elbows and look down at her. It strikes me again how incredibly beautiful she is and I long to tell her how much I love her. But how would it sound in the post-sex afterglow? When I tell her, I don't want her to think I'm under the influence of anything, especially great sex. And God was it great! I feel myself stirring again.

Leaning down, I kiss her, taking my time, just savoring the taste of her mouth and the feel of her body under mine. Her hands are running over my back, caressing me. She shifts slightly under me and I realize I might be squashing her.

"Am I squashing you?"

"No. Well, maybe just a little," she answers honestly. "But I don't want to lose contact with you."

I love her honesty, I really do. I chuckle and carefully sit up, listening to her protests as I withdraw from her. I understand her feelings. I'd stay buried inside of her forever if I could. I pull her up with me and she straddles my waist, wrapping her arms around my neck. I can't stop touching her, running my fingers through her hair, her face.

"Just a sec," she stops me and turns around to the front seat, reaching for something. Even in the dim light, I can see the creamy whiteness of her skin. Her ass is almost in my face and I can't help myself. I lean forward and bite her left cheek. Not hard, but it shocked her. I couldn't help but laugh as she yelped and jerked back, hitting her head on the ceiling.

Shit! Now I feel bad. My misery is short lived when she starts giggling, turning around and plopping herself onto my lap.

"You are a bad boy, Gil Grissom. Have I ever told you how much bad boys turn me on?"

"I think you've neglected to mention that. And you did tell me to bite you. I was just doing what you wanted."

"I love it when a man knows how to follow orders," she whispers and kisses me, exploring my mouth with her tongue. And I wonder how I've gotten so lucky. I mean I've got a naked, sated Catherine in my lap. I'm the envy of all the guys back at CSI. Even Ecklie. He's got it for her too; I can see it in his eyes. Stupid bastard. I actually feel a little sorry for him. He'll never know what he's missing. But I know what I missed and I want to do it again. I have a feeling I'll never get enough of her. I could die happy right now.

She pulls back and fiddles with something. Suddenly a shaft of light appears, illuminating the interior of the Tahoe. I notice that the windows are wet with condensation. We really heated up the interior; the house was a vague shadow through the windshield. I smile at the thought.

"Too dark for you?" I ask.

"Mmmm, hmmm. I want to see your face." She props the flashlight on the center console and turns back to me. "And I want you to see mine when I say this." She tosses her hair over her shoulder with a quick shake of her head. I love it when she does that.

Okay, now I'm nervous. What is she going to say? Please don't let her tell me she doesn't love me. Please, God, I can't handle that. She wouldn't be so callous as to tell me that she doesn't love me after the mind-blowing sex we just had. Would she? She couldn't. She. . .she interrupts my thoughts by taking my face in her hands and gazing into my eyes.

"I know this isn't the. . .perfect time to say this. But it doesn't make it any less true." I hear her take a deep breath. "I love you, Gil Grissom. I've loved you since forever, even when I wasn't supposed to, when I was with Eddie. And I fought it, I fought it hard, but I can't fight anymore. And I don't want to."

I could see the sincerity in her eyes and the love. My breath caught in my throat and dammit, I want to cry. Men don't cry, I told myself. I can't believe my luck. I mean, here I am, a science geek, a nerd I guess, and not only have I had the best sex of my life with the homecoming queen, but now she tells me that she loves me. I can't help but feel a little emotional at this point. I also feel damn proud. That manly pride that kicks in after knowing you really pleased the woman you love. It's a very Revenge of The Nerds moment for me.

She's watching me, waiting for my reaction and since I can't do anything the normal way, I don't say the words back. I run my fingers through her hair and can feel her tension. How am I going to say this? I'm horrible at expressing my feelings. But I try anyway. I'm gonna screw it up, I just know I am.

"Cath, I'm not sure how to say this," I feel her start to pull away, her eyes shuttering and I wrap an arm around her back, refusing to let her. "Listen to me. You are not the sun, the moon, and the stars to me. You're. . ." She tries to pull my arms from her and I can see the tears in her eyes.

"Let me go," she whimpers. "I don't want to hear this."

"No." I pull her back again. Lord, is she strong. "You are the gravity in my life. You are what keeps me tethered. To life, to you. I can't live without you. I love you, Catherine. And I've just royally screwed this up." I look down, cursing my own ineptness.

I feel gentle fingers under my chin and I look at her, afraid I've just ruined the best thing that has ever happened to me. Why couldn't I have just said I loved her? Why did I have to rattle on about the cosmos? I see her tears, but her eyes are clear and I see the love in them.

"That was beautiful." She sniffles at the tears, but smiles at me and I smile back, relief flowing through me. "You had me going there for a second though."

"I know, I'm deficient when it comes to emotions."

She laughs. I love her laugh. I love everything about her. "You are," she confirms. "But," she wraps her arms around my neck. "You are definitely not deficient in other ways." Our lips meet and we kiss again and again, the passion returning.

*****************************

I really thought he was going to tell me he didn't love me. That it was just sex. I'm used to being desired, I'm not used to being loved. He kisses my jaw, making his way to my ear. I really think that my ears must be my erogenous zone, because when he traces the outer shell of my ear, I almost go insane. I feel the desire racing through me and I moan, digging my fingernails into his back. Reaching down, I slide my hand over his erection and stoke him gently, increasing the pressure and speed as I listen to his breath catch.

I can't believe how turned on this man makes me. I don't ever think I'll stop wanting him. I might as well stop breathing first. I can't wait any longer for him to be inside of me and I know he can't either. His mouth is still glued to my ear, his gasping breaths making me shiver. I raise myself up slightly and position him at my entrance, but I hesitate a moment. I want, no, I need to see his face. I pull my head back.

"Look at me," I command him and he does. At that moment, I slide down him, taking his length deeply into me. We sigh in unison and then I begin to move. Slowly at first, savoring the feeling of him. His hands are on my hips, guiding my movements, his pelvis meeting mine, thrust after thrust. I want this to last forever, this delicious feeling, but I know it won't. I know it can't. My movements speed up and I whimper as my clit drags over his wiry pubic hair.

Damn! He's doing the ear thing again. He has to know by now what it does to me. I can barely breathe, barely move. I just want to cling to him. He leaves my ear and presses hot, wet kisses along my neck and my collarbone. I know where he's going and I arch my back, giving him access to my breasts.

I slide along his length, leaving only his tip inside of me, then slamming back down. Over and over again. God, he's so hard; he feels huge inside of me. Too soon, way too soon, I feel the familiar coiling inside of me and I know I'm close. His mouth on my breast is making me mad with desire and I know I can't last much longer. He swells inside me and I know he's about to. . .God! I feel him explode inside of me, hear him shout my name and I increase the thrusts, my vision darkening as my own orgasm rolls over me. My hips still their frantic movements and I slump against his chest, pressing kisses to his neck, over his jaw and on his mouth.

"You are," I gasp, "absolutely incredible." My heart is racing and I wonder if it will ever return to normal. "If we keep doing this, I don't think I'll need to go to the gym."

"If?" He asks kissing me thoroughly. I love his mouth; he really is an excellent kisser. "Oh, we will definitely continue this."

"We better," I murmur against his mouth. I'm so sleepy. It's because of your blood pressure and heart rate drops after sex, my mind recites. Whatever, I just love that post-sex sleepy feeling. I lay my head on his shoulder, one arm around his neck and close my eyes. I'll lay here for just a little bit, and then get dressed. I really don't want anyone finding us like this. But his arms around me feel so good. So right. I feel complete.