Well. He'd expected a reaction, of course, but not one of this magnitude. At his words (what did you want me to ask you?) Gillian's face had flushed dramatically (and more than a little becomingly, if he was honest); her eyes flew around the window behind his head; her hands came together in her lap, in an abbreviated defensive posture. Briefly Cal felt proud that she at least knew better than to cross her arms in front of herself, although he could see her arms making quick tiny movements in that direction. He'd asked the question mainly to disconcert her a little, after her obvious pleasure in surprising him, but he found himself becoming more and more interested in the actual answer.
"Not to rush you, love, but surely there's some sort of time limit on this game, isn't there?" he asked, after watching her fidget for a moment longer.
"I… don't even know if I understand the question, Cal," she replied, still avoiding his eyes except for brief flashes to check his reaction.
"That's a lie, obviously," said Cal, allowing his eyes to roll toward the ceiling in mock impatience. Truth was he'd happily wait in her desk chair all night to find out what had Gillian so wound up at this moment. Her eyes blinked rapidly as she tried to decide what to do; her hands twisted anxiously in her lap. Cal took pity on her. "How 'bout this – would it be easier if I just said I could read it right off your face, the thing you wanted me to ask you?"
She looked up at him, finally making eye contact. "Can you?" she countered, eyebrows lifting as she raised her glass, inhaled deeply of the vapors, and took a substantial gulp.
"If you let me," he answered. Gillian's color was back up in her cheeks, but she'd summoned her courage from somewhere – most likely from within her now-empty-again glass – and she held her eyes on his as if he were the only anchor left in the world. Her teasing expression from a few minutes before had vanished, leaving her face unexpectedly serious. "Love, you don't have to show me anything you don't want to – you know that, right?" he asked, suddenly concerned that he'd bullied her into a position that was upsetting her.
"I do want to," she answered softly, eyes growing bigger.
"Then let's see it, shall we?" he prompted, concentration flowing from him in waves as he scrutinized her eyes, her lips, her pulse thrumming at her collarbone. He saw her drop. layer by layer, the mask she wore even during their times of relaxation. He checked off items mentally: fast pulse, lips just slightly more prominent than usual, challenge in her eyes – whoa. Her eyes. He thought he'd noticed a bit of dilation in them before, but now her wide pupils were screaming the message at him, in case he was too obtuse to understand the other signs. Desire.
He felt things clicking – rather, thunking loudly – into place in his mind. He rose from her chair and was at her side in an instant. She'd let her eyes fall downward again, but he caught her gaze, making absolutely sure she had the opportunity to see his own eyes mirroring her expression. She breathed in sharply.
"You misled me, Foster," he said, reaching with his hand to touch her chin, tilt it up to keep her eyes on him. "That wasn't a truth at all, was it? That was a dare if ever I saw one."
"And?" she said, her voice trembling. He leaned closer, until their lips were separated by mere inches. Her breath was sweet and shaky across his face, her eyes half-closed.
"And you really want me to give you that dare?" He was teasing her – he could read the answer clear as day on her face, but enjoyed the way her body shifted toward his pleadingly, something he was certain she was unaware of right now.
"Yes," she breathed. The strained tone in her voice did something to his core that removed all thought of teasing from his mind.
"Kiss me, love," he instructed, his words ghosting across her lips, causing her to gasp as her eyes fluttered and closed.
He expected the tentative touch of her lips against his, the sudden silence as they both held their breath for an instant. He didn't expect the way that, when he moved his lips more firmly against hers, her mouth opened hotly to his, and her body surged against him like a wave. He didn't expect to feel his blood heating abruptly, his arms circling her tightly, their bodies fitting themselves together impatiently. Five seconds ago, he'd assumed this would be a momentary venture over that damnable line, discharging years' worth of the kind of curiosity that builds between close friends who've never slept together. Now Gillian Foster – his beautiful but often remote partner – was deluging him with her scent, her taste, her emotion for him. He pulled her body flush against his, and prepared to return what she'd shown him, what she'd given him when she opened herself to him.
A/n: I was holding out for what was revealed in the promo (you know the one), but we were disappointed about that tonight, yes? So here's my personal wish-fulfillment.
And here's a tip for any Tim Roth enthusiasts out there – watch "The Perfect Husband." It's not a great film, but Tim Roth's performance as a master seducer certainly lends itself to LtM fanfic applications. =)
