Gillian's pov. Things get a little hot and heavy in Cal's office.
I would say in near future but beyond this crap that we're dealing with now. It's kind of all over the place.
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I own nothing. Not marked complete because I may add more at some point. Perhaps an even 'heavier' chapter.
Despite knowing practically everything about each other and putting up with it all, I find myself utterly surprised and confused when I experience something new coming from him.
He has always been the cocky, frustrating man who knows nothing about personal space. If he even catches the slightest hint of the word 'personal', he is first in line to hear about it. Or to be more precise, the infuriating man will continue to drive you insane until you give up the, need I remind you, private information. I guess I can say I'm used to it. But sometimes he just surprises me. When he is an inch from my face, demanding me with his eyes to show him a certain emotion or to start talking about it, I confess I get a little flustered. And that is exactly one of the things he is aiming for. If you try to do the same to him, the topic must automatically stray away from him. But then he can do a complete one eighty on me unexpectedly and confess a small amount of himself and the battle he fights in his head, to me.
He thinks he can hide everything but we've been around each other too long. That's what makes me notice when something is different. I may not figure it out at once, but I do recognize his moods. I hadn't really seen much of him today. He has also been acting strange the last few times we've talked. But only he can dig the truth out of others; no one was allowed to concern themselves over him. That usually includes me, with or without my consent. Then he turns around and does something else that surprises me.
I walk toward his office, just finished in mine, wanting to give him a recent report and tell him goodnight. We were supposed to start on the new case tomorrow, but as always, he was still here after hours already looking over the folder.
The lights from the hallways had been turned off about an hour earlier. Everyone was gone for the night. His door was open halfway and two glowing lights were on. He was standing there by his desk, his jacket thrown over his chair. His hair was disheveled. He looks up as I walk in, greeting me with a nod and an 'ello darling'. I smile, telling him it's late and how we are insane for still being at work, while moving to his couch and sitting comfortably in the middle of the soft cushion. He sighs heavily, agreeing with me. Stepping away from his desk, he mutters on about the case, folder still in hand. He comes to stand by the table and drops the blue folder on its' surface. I speak sarcastically about it as I hand him the report. I could tell he was in an indifferent mood. Gripping at the folder, our fingers brush as he takes it.
He sits on his coffee table, a little to the left of me. He skims through the report uncaring, unfocused. We talk a little about what needs to be done the next day to get prepared. I take a deep, quiet breath. Closing it, he tosses the report on the table too. I lean forward to grab the case folder laying behind him when he turns towards the couch and looks at me. My hand falls short of the table, so I slowly bring it back to my lap. Whatever I was about to say regarding tomorrow, dies on my lips. He appears unsure about something; like he was fighting an inner struggle. He chews on his bottom lip for a moment. Silence comes between us as he searches my face.
Carefully, he picks up my left hand in both of his. I look up at him curiously. His face is unreadable of course, and his eyes are zoned in where our bodies are connected.
Our hands.
His fingertips slowly move over each finger, every knuckle, down the small dip of my palm. There is a faint tickle I feel there, and I try not to move as he continues his journey. I want to say something. I cannot find the words. This was new. Sure, we've held hands, if only for a moment. But never has he put so much attention into it.
Two fingertips stop at my pulse on the inside of my wrist where the skin is tender. He presses gently, and then moves his thumb there instead, circling the skin. I feel an involuntary shiver run through my arm. Never have we had a situation like this. His eyes were still glued to my hand.
Suddenly, he raises my wrist to his lips, the area he had been caressing attentively, soft skin meeting for the first time. Now this was even more surprising. My fingers shake, one of them touching his forehead lightly. Pulling away, he still doesn't look at me. My heartbeats are deep, loud in my ears. We are close, but still the only part touching are our hands. Reaching across me to my other hand, he scoops it up, bringing it near him and administers the same actions. I remind myself to breathe.
Where had all of this come from? We were just sitting there in his office, talking about a case that was coming our way and out of nowhere he starts this? We had been a little off lately, but I didn't let it get to me too much. I've always had the will to not let anything bother me when it comes to the things he dishes out. But I can only do so much. He being stoic all the time, seeing this side of him was definitely a change. Was something actually affecting him? His closed off demeanor I had mentioned earlier looked to be waning, on the verge of falling.
His warm breath was on my hands. Both were encased in his. I search his face and see his eyes skim over my arms. I try to catch his gaze, my head tilting to the side, but he seems almost shy.
His actions say otherwise.
He moves his hands up my arms slowly. They stop at my elbows. My hands are somewhat awkwardly hanging in the air in front of his chest, so I let them fall easily on his knee. They don't stay there for long as he lifts an arm, kissing the inside of my right elbow, followed by the left. This brings his face closer to mine. I open my mouth for a split second but realize I still haven't come up with anything to say. He has shocked me into silence.
Am I supposed to stop this? Ask him what's wrong? I can't even speak, let alone, move. I haven't made a turn of protest, so he takes it as encouragement. I trust him; if I didn't, I probably would have managed to say something by now. A keen sense of curiosity was getting the best of me. Or maybe because it was late and I just wasn't thinking clearly.
His knees shift and suddenly press against the outside of both of mine. I nearly jump, my body surprised again at the new contact. Running his hands clear back down to my very fingertips, he finally glances up. A feeling rushes over me, courses hot through my veins. The look he gives me only lasts a few seconds and I realize he is not quite done with these new actions.
He reaches behind him, grabbing on to the table and scoots it and himself closer. We are at eye level with one another. His knees slide further up my thighs as his eyes flit down to my neck and shoulders. He leans forward but seems to pause, looking into my eyes, as if asking for permission; asking for forgiveness. I feel overwhelmed. An understanding passes through us as we stare at each other. He reads my look and I see a glimmer of thankfulness wash over him. I convey to him my trust and he continues forward. He rests an open mouthed kiss to my collarbone, right above my heart. I lay my hands gently on his thighs, splaying my fingers across the fabric of his pants. He brings both hands to cup the curve of my shoulders, squeezing slightly. My eyes focus in and out on the pictures of different human facial expressions he has on his wall.
Heat was slowly engulfing both of us. As he makes his way to the other side, leaving small wet kisses in his wake, I lift my head, tilting it to the side. My mouth was slightly open; deep, heavy breaths coming out. His soft lips mark one last spot on my collarbone and he pulls away again.
My mind was, well, I have no clue where it went. I blink a few times, trying to come to terms with what was going on. As he shifts his weight, a hand gently caressing my arm, I sigh.
He draws me nearer by applying some pressure on my arms. I slide to the end of the couch, my legs tight together in between his. Never have I felt such a rush of feelings as his eyes roam over me. Leaning close to the side of my neck, his hot breath not helping the already humid air around us, he licks his lips and slowly brushes them along my skin. On their own accord, my fingertips tighten on his legs. He goes higher, right under my ear. I feel myself smile, the skin sensitive and ticklish. Raising a hand to the other side of my face, he cups my jaw, fingers in my hair. I gasp quietly when I feel his tongue glide sweetly over a small part of my skin, followed by his lips.
I lift a shaky hand to his chest. He moves to the other side of my neck, both hands making their way to my back, setting goose bumps on the path. I touch the top of his shoulder, fingers pushing down into his skin through his shirt. He's presses his lips lovingly on my pulse.
I see his head back away from me again. I straighten as I watch his eyes glow in the low lights. His chest rises and falls smoothly. I can't even fathom what is going on. We've never allowed ourselves this intimacy. My line has always been there. The line he never liked or obeyed and on most days I catch myself not following it either. He somehow snuck in, surprising me. Judging by the look on his face, I think he's surprised himself.
I wet my lips. He quickly looks down at them. Bringing a hand away from my back, he brushes his thumb on the corner of my bottom lip. If I had any protest in me, it would have been gone by now. Summoning the small strength I did have, I glide my hand the rest of the way up his leg. My fingers hold on to his waist. I can feel the muscles beneath his shirt twitch. Breaking the heated silence, he thickly whispers my name. I see him swallow and feel the tingling sensation as both of his hands run a quivering journey over my neck and arms.
My skin felt hot, radiating into the air.
Amazed at how we got to this point, I could only depend on his eyes to lead me to an answer.
I breathe, looking him straight in the eye. I run my other hand back down his chest, resting my palm over his heart; the rapid beating a comfort. He keeps eye contact with me as an unknown force pulls us towards each other. My stomach flips as I see his eyes change, showing emotions I have very rarely seen. Taking me unaware, I realize he has me surprised yet again.
Do I let this go on?
He drags his eyes away from mine as he gets close, landing on my flushed cheeks. He lingers there, enticing every nerve in my body. Arms wrap around my back, as my cheek meets his open lips. Wonderfully and agonizingly slow, he follows down the curve of my jaw line, moving to the other side of my face. A small, strained noise comes from the back of my throat without warning. My arms circle his shoulders tenderly; my head swimming in wonder. Coherent thought was gradually slipping away and I know we are still in the office. At least we were the only ones crazy enough to still be here at this hour.
I don't quite know what to do.
I hear and feel his breath as it dances along my face. He grips the back of my dress lightly, trying to ease himself closer to me. I can tell he is physically shaking, but only a little.
He kisses the corner of my mouth and leans back a pinch, looking into my wide eyes.
Attempting to say something, he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. There in his eyes, I read what he wants. It's so enticing, knowing that he doesn't let the guard down like this. Knowing he is letting me see him unfold. I know my face is open; I just want to embrace him, let him know everything is alright. He can tell I'm still somewhat curiously surprised. He looks at my lips then back to my eyes. We keep them connected till the void is filled, then darkness lays before me as my eyes flutter closed, right after his. An urge of desire floods through us as the space between our mouths disappears.
His soft, open mouth strokes against mine. My stomach is on fire and my chest thunders with the beat of my heart. This is definitely not what I thought was on the agenda when I walked into his office tonight. Now that it's happening, I realize this has been a long time coming.
That damn line…
He doesn't even try to hide the tide of emotion he feels as he unabashedly lets out a deep moan. At the sound, he has me gripping at his shoulders, a small moan escaping me too.
Is this real life?
His kisses are passionate but kept at a slow pace; he didn't want to rush this. I match him, our lips embracing in the cherished dance we never thought we'd share. We've come close before but something always either held us back or got in the way. After all, we do have a complicated relationship.
He ascends over me, pulling me up to stand with him, never breaking the kiss. My legs aren't quite steady. He secures them and me, our bodies finally together. We breathe as one; the swell of my breasts collides into his chest pleasantly. I loosen my clasp of his shoulders, running a hand up to his neck. My fingers wisp behind his ear and in his hair. Firm arms hold me at the waist.
Brushing his lips persistently over mine one last time, he breaks away, but only just. Staying encased in his arms, I rest my forehead against his. I keep my eyes shut. His breath washes over me like a summer rain, warm and calming, giving me the chance to ease my heart rate back down.
I feel him raise his head. When I open my eyes, he is staring at me. Dark green emblazoned with stunning surprise. His lips are a little swollen, just like I'm sure mine are. He's trying, whole heartedly, to read me.
In his nature, I know.
This time though, flustered or hiding away from him is not the case. Happy at what he sees, a small grin appears.
And out of no where, I laugh.
I can't help it.
The soft, elated laugh pours out of me, filling the quiet space of his office. I feel radiant and I know the smile I give him shows that. My smile is infectious; his growing more and more as the precious seconds go by. Unleashing my waist, he brings his arms in-between mine and cups both sides of my face gently. We simply stare at each other. Drinking in the familiarity of one another as we sway slightly where we're standing.
Finding my voice, I whisper, "Well this was a surprise."
He agrees with a nod, his smile playful.
"I've always been damn good at surprises."
You do remember me mentioning cocky, right?