Gillian was hot. Her skin was scorching and sticky and damp with sweat. It was dark in the bedroom, so Cal couldn't see, but he was still picturing her in his head with her eyes closed in pleasure as he slid his hand around her slim waist and up, under the t-shirt of his she was wearing, to the edge of her ribs, feeling, sensing, the swell of her breast just out of reach. She canted in towards him, unbalanced lying on her side on the mattress but her shoulder only met the hard edge of his chest; he was purposefully keeping his hips away from her. Just like he was purposefully not reaching higher with his fingers. That would be asking for trouble. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to behave himself if he touched her any further north than when his hand was right now, or if she touched him any further south than where her hand was grazing against his belly button. Even that was seriously bordering on too much.

Her mouth was hot and wet against him too, but markedly hotter and wetter, and her tongue was doing some serious damage. Her fingernails scratched at his skin and her chest now inadvertently brushed against his arm periodically as she kind of... swayed closer to him, pulled a little away, undulated. Shit. Cal wanted to, really, really wanted to, push her back against the pillows and take her pyjamas off (his pyjamas on her). He wanted to touch her all over, to trail his lips over every inch of her skin; map her body, memorise it. He wanted her to writhe in the agony of pure pleasure. He wanted to show her how incredible he would make her feel. He wanted her to feel beyond amazing. He was practically dying to have that chance. But she had asked him to wait. A while ago. So he was waiting. But he really wasn't sure how long he could hold out, how much longer they could push this before he lost his self-control. It was Gillian. He had been thinking about this for a long time. So he broke away from her mouth with a groan, because oh, it hurt a little to do that, and retracted his hand, tried to put some distance between them; his heart was pounding.

Gillian gave a little huff of air, her fingers clutching at him, her hand coming up to his jaw. "Cal," she murmured and he could hear the desperate strain to her tone. She sounded about as frustrated as he felt.

Cal inched back across the pillow towards her, bumping her mouth before shifting his lips to connect with hers again. He let his hand creep back to her waist, tucking a finger into the waistband of his pyjamas, feeling the edge of her underwear beneath the tip of his digit. "Do you want to?" He asked breathlessly, pushing against the mattress with his toes, losing his grip on his desperation. So much for space. So much for ending it.

"Yes," Gillian muttered but as Cal reached for her mouth again, as that finger slipped under the elastic of her underwear. She slid her tongue along his but she pushed a hand against his chest. "But..."

Cal didn't hear the rest. He groaned again, shoved her away from him while he fell onto his back. They were silent while they both heaved in air. Cal flicked back the cover to stick a leg out, needing to cool down. He seriously needed to.

"I'm sorry," Gillian tried, her voice sounding small even though she was about a foot away.

"Gill," Cal started.

"I don't mean to be a tease."

Cal felt his heart rate start to slow a little. Then Gillian sat up. "I should go," she tried and Cal's heart rate went up again. He grabbed her arm, pulling her back to the mattress so abruptly she actually bounced. He thought he could make out the surprised expression on her face. He pictured her naked again, tried to force the image out. That was not helping.

"Don't leave," he told her gruffly, leaning over her a little, making sure she was going to stay put.

"But it's not fair."

"Gill it is what it is. That doesn't mean I want you to go. I can keep my hands to myself."

He thinks he can. He hopes. He invited her to stay over. He doesn't want to ruin it.

"Cal, I really didn't mean..."

"I know," Cal cut her off. "Look I know all right? I know you need time and I want you to have it." To be in the right place, the right frame of mind before they start having sex. Because he knows Gillian and she wouldn't do this to him without thinking she had a good reason.

"Maybe we should cool it for a while?"

"No thanks," he gruffs.

"No?" Gillian repeats, her voice rising a little.

"I get that you want time Gill, but that doesn't mean I don't want us to stop movin' forward a little. I don't want to not see you." Or be able to touch her. Or fantasise about touching her. Just because her divorce was fresh in her mind. Just because Alec had really fucked with her head, about how she felt about herself and how she felt being with another guy, or in a relationship, didn't mean Cal couldn't be patient, waiting for that to subside, waiting for her to work through it. It wasn't like he wanted her to carry over that crap when she was with him. He wanted that about as much as he wanted to bring his crap from his marriage with Zoe into this relationship with Gillian. But he'd had how many years to get over his ex? And Gillian had had how long since she had even separated from Alec?

He had not been patient in the past, with other women. But damn it, he was going to be this time. He was.

"Am I being completely unfair?" Gillian sighed.

Cal dropped himself back to the mattress, his heart rate going down once more; calming down again. "No," he tried.

"Liar," Gillian noted gently.

"Not that, Gill. I know you're not tryin' to wind me up, but I am a guy and... you're incredibly beautiful and your kisses are amazin' and your body," he had to take a breath, remind himself he was calming down. He wasn't sure he'd ever told her that before. He felt Gillian shift next to him, turning over onto her side to face him. He took a calmly breath, quiet, so she would hopefully not notice. She waited for him to continue and again, he forced himself to use his words. "I'm not gonna pretend that I don't want to. I can't say that I'm not a little bit frustrated. I want you."

Gillian gave a little gasp. "I'm glad that you do," she practically whispered.

Cal gave a grunt. "Of course I do." And yes it was just about torture to not have sex with her, especially when they got so close, like tonight, which was probably the closest yet, but he kept telling himself that it wouldn't be forever. Gillian was good at flirting but she was not a tease, she was not messing with him on purpose. But he did rely on her to tell him when it was time to stop, because he was almost certainly not in the right frame of mind to be able to do that.

"I want you too, Cal," Gillian said softly. "And I feel like I'm nearly there." She sounded so much calmer than he felt; he was still buzzing.

"That's good."

Silence again.

"Cal?"

"Yeah?"

"You're really ok with waiting?"

Cal gave another grunt, wanting to say 'no' but telling himself to shut up. "Yes," he groused.

"Ok."

Silence. She didn't believe him. And he didn't want her to think that sex was everything. It wasn't. It was. But it wasn't. They were connecting on a deeper level and he actually liked it. He liked being close to her. Sex wasn't everything. But maybe fooling around like they were was tempting fate.

"I'm not fifteen anymore. I can wait."

But oh it was fucking torture.

Gillian gave a soft laugh. Her hand came out to his face, caressing down his jaw. "You have no idea," she started. "Thank you."

Cal turned his head and kissed her palm. "It seems it will be worth it in the end."

Gillian laughed again but didn't withdraw her hand.

"Right?" Cal pressed.

"Right," Gillian agreed, still laughing.

"Oh yeah?" Cal turned over, trapping her hand between his cheek and the pillow. "What are you suggestin'?" He teased and stretched his neck forward to kiss her again.

Gillian's mouth was warm and smiling against his. She snaked her free hand down his arm, to his waist, around into the small of his back. She scooted herself a little closer again. But then she withdrew her mouth, pulled her head back to get words out. "Is this ok?" She asked softly.

"Uh huh," Cal nodded, sliding his hand in a similar move to her waist. She was still warm, but it seemed she really had calmed down; the fiery tinge to her skin was gone again. This was how they had started this night out, just lying together in his bed, goodnight kisses and a light embrace, and it had quickly escalated. Cal believed her when she said she was nearly ready; he could tell in the way her walls had come down. She let him touch her a lot more. She was staying over. Her kisses had less restraint. There must be residual doubts in her head that made her withdraw at certain points. A few weeks ago she wasn't ok with his hands on her bare skin. Now she was practically letting him feel her up. That was a good sign. That was moving forward. And he could take that, it was enough.

Gillian shifted closer still, a sudden bump of her hips against his and then she froze. "Oh."

"Oh," Cal repeated. That was too close. Now she could feel exactly how turned on he was. And he had been trying so hard to keep that from her. Pun unintentional.

"Cal," she started and really, there was such a thing as too much talking.

"You sleep ova there," Cal told her, giving her a little shove. "And I'll sleep ova here. And it'll be fine." He paused, while they resettle, more distance between them physically, but feeling closer together nonetheless. "It'll be fine."

When Cal woke in the night to turn over, Gillian was at his side, her arm over his diaphragm and her face in his neck. With a twinge of his stomach, he turned into her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. This was exactly why he wasn't going to kick her out.