A/N: Thanks again for the reviews / alerts on this story, it's much appreciated! Just wanted to mention again that these one-shots aren't connected - they will be random little moments that pop into my head. Happy reading!

This one was inspired by "S&M" by Rhianna.

It was a typical evening at the Lightman Group. With the rest of the staff long gone, the building was deserted save for its leaders, who could each be found in their respective offices – Gillian pouring over paperwork, and Cal lost in thought, refusing to admit he was waiting for Gillian.

Alone in the quiet of his study, Cal's thoughts drifted back to their kiss a few days before, and to her little quip about being restrained. (Abso-bloody-lutely, indeed. His dreams had never been so colorful.) As he replayed their conversation again in his mind's eye, something new occurred to him. Each and every time Gillian tried to deny it, insisting that it had all been an act, she turned away. Every. Single. Time. Classic deception marker, if he'd ever seen one.

Cal was on his feet in a flash… time to have a little fun.

Gillian startled as Cal burst through her office door with his typical 'bull in a china shop' flourish. His footsteps rang heavy throughout the otherwise silent room, and she glanced up from her case file to note that his eyes were dark and dilated, his grin dangerous. She knew that look well… he was baiting her. A lesser woman would melt under that gaze, she decided. And though it would be suicide to ever admit it aloud, it thrilled her. He thrilled her. When he wasn't busy pissing her off, anyway.

"Something I can help you with, Cal?" she asked, eyebrow quirking as she swiveled her chair to face him fully. You're treading dangerous ground here, she reminded herself. His look was pure hunger; whatever had brought him there was personal, and she knew he would pounce the minute her mask slipped.

"You and I have a bit of unfinished business, darling," he said thickly.

Damn that accent, she cursed; he always did know how to use it to his advantage. Deep breath... focus.

"Is that so, Dr. Lightman?" she answered. She tried to keep her voice neutral but it came off as playful and teasing instead. The room felt ten degrees warmer (oh dear lord, was she sweating?) and she swallowed, not even bothering to hide it from him. If he could cause that kind of reaction with just a look, Gillian didn't stand a chance.

Cal sank into the chair opposite her own; his eyes were narrowed, grin growing by the second. "You're a terrible liar," he noted.

Damn that grin, she cursed again; he also knew how to use that to his advantage.

"Did you come in here just to insult me," she managed to ask, "or is there a point to be made?"

"I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that little fantasy of yours was really all just part of the act," he said.

Gillian was stunned. Now she was definitely sweating; why was he fixated on this now? There was no possible way she could do that – there was no possible way that she was going to stare into the eyes of the world's greatest human lie detector and voluntarily tell a lie. Deflect, keep moving, look away… her options were limited.

Gillian stood and rolled her eyes as Cal looked up at her from the edge of his chair. She shook her head slightly and crossed to the other side of the office, facing away from him. "Oh please tell me you aren't still fixated on this," she called over her shoulder.

"You ready to stop lying now, Gill?" It was almost a dare.

She didn't respond – didn't need to. She'd already told him everything he wanted to know. Deflection, increased respiration and body temperature… he had seen it all.

She could hear him behind her as he rose from the chair and walked across the room, deliberately slow. His hand grasped her wrist and he pulled gently, turning her to face him. His eyes were entirely black now.

He stepped into her space like he'd done so many times before, fully expecting her to back away. Because that was their game, really… they skirted the line but never crossed it. He watched Gillian lift her hands in front of his chest, knowing that was the signal for him to back off, knowing that any second now she would literally push him away. And he closed his eyes in preparation, not wanting to show her the disappointment he always felt when she did it. Go ahead now, he thought. I can take it.

His eyes were still closed when her hands fisted in his lapels a second later. He hadn't seen the shift… the split second when every doubt she'd ever had about them fused with every raw desire she felt in the moment, until all she knew was that she was tired of lying. And then she pulled instead of pushed, catching him by surprise as he stumbled the rest of the way toward her.

"I'm ready if you are," she said. Gillian Foster never backed away from a dare.