What can I say...I'm a bit addicted to writing this it seems. Oh well, I'm sure no one minds that.

Gail looks up from her phone for just a second before looking back at it. It takes her a moment, but her bright blue eyes find me again, her mind catching up to just how little I intended to wear to bed. I can't tell exactly how she is reacting. Is she uncomfortable, or upset, or just a bit surprised? Is this too far even for our friendship? I try to swallow my nerves as I watch her eyes take it in. Slowly she sits up and gets out of the bed, heading towards the bedroom door.

Shit. I took this too far. I freaked her out and now she is going to go sleep in the guest room, or maybe even leave. But when she reaches the door she doesn't walk out. Instead she simply closes the door and turns back to climb into bed. I let out a breath quietly in relief and hang the towel on the hook behind my door. Cautiously I climb in next to her and shut off the lamp on the night stand.

I can see her setting an alarm on her phone out of the corner of my eyes. Finally she sets the phone down on the opposite night stand and rolls over to face me. We both stay lying in place, face to face for what feels like forever. Slowly she reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. Her hand stays lingering on the side of my face, the tips of her fingers barely moving against my skin. Her touch is overwhelming. My eyes close as I focus on her movements. Even between the warmth of the bed and the heat radiating off her body, it is not enough to stop the wave of cold chills. I can feel the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Does she know what this is doing to me?

Unable to stand it any longer I grasp her hand in my own and roll over, pulling her arm with me. She curls up behind me, drawing me further back into her body. She slips her hand back out of mine and I can feel her shift behind me, closing the distance until every part of our bodies are flush. I feel her move my still damp hair out of her way before she settles still behind me, her hot breath sending a fresh wave of cold chills down my spine.

Suddenly it is too hard to just lay still. Every fiber of my being wants to reach back for her and pull her on top of me. My skin tingles at the mere thought of her weight on me. I push one hand up under my head to still it as the other plays with the sheets in need of a distraction. Just when I feel like I can't contain myself any longer, her free hand settles on my side, sliding gently up and back down lightly. I'm sure it is meant to be soothing and comforting but it is doing everything but that. My body feels like it is on fire. Her fingers graze back up against the fabric, stopping just before my breast and trail back down, stopping just before they meet the hem of the shirt over and over. I try my best to talk myself down internally, and it almost works. I can almost focus on sleep. And then she does something. Her fingers start their trip back up, but this time they don't stop in their usual place, they continue, just barely tiptoeing up and past, gently sliding up against the side of my breast, and just as if it didn't happen, they start back down. I can feel my breath hitch. Surely she hadn't intended to go that far. But then it happens again. And the next time.

The heat burning through my veins threatens to bake me from the inside out. I can feel the fabric of the shirt against my hardened nipples. I can feel the start of wetness between my legs. I have to get her to stop. I can't let her unknowingly tease me like this. I'm determined to speak up but I can't find my voice. And then her ever so delicate fingers trail back up again and move down, further down. The tips of her fingers slip off the hem of the shirt and fall against bare skin and then down across lace, pausing momentarily just on it. My heart is beating so loud I am sure she can hear it. Either she doesn't notice, or doesn't care, because she just continues, taking a moment to slide across my hip bone before trailing up towards my ribs again, this time under my shirt. My skin erupts in goose bumps at the feel of her fingers working across it's bareness.

"You're giving me cold chills." The words fall from my lips uncontrollably, my voice a whisper.

For a second there is nothing in return. And then she whispers back, and I can feel it against the shell of my ear as much as I can hear it. "I know. I can feel."

Holy shit. Did she really just say that?

"Sorry. I didn't mean to torture you." Her hand stops and withdraws from the shirt. "Didn't realize you were ticklish."

I want to tell her I'm not. That my goose bumps aren't from that. But I can't say that. I can't admit to her that the reason I'm feeling tortured is because my body craves hers. I can't tell her that since I dreamt of her on top of me; it's all I have thought about. I can't tell her how I forced myself to take a cold shower to stop from fantasizing about her. So I don't say a word. Instead I reach back for her hand and drape it around me again. I can feel her hand shifting slightly and for a minute I think she is going to explore again, but she doesn't. Instead she just gets herself more comfortable and settles in to sleep.

And so for a third night in a row, I lay wide awake, trying to keep myself in check. And only after at least an hour of overanalyzing everything does sleep finally find me.