Where Do We Go (1/2)
Title: Where Do We Go (1/2)
Pairing: Lightman/Foster
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A man from Cal's past is bent on revenge and finds it during one late night at the Lightman Group building. Will his actions drive Cal and Gillian apart, or will they find a way to move forward together?
CONTENT WARNING: This story deals with dark themes and contains references to sexual violence, rape, and forced sex. That probably makes it sound a lot worse than it really is! But I want to be sure to warn away people who will be upset or offended by this type of subject matter. I do not take issues like sexual assault or rape lightly. This scenario occurred to me and I couldn’t get it out of my head. I wondered how Cal and Gillian’s relationship would be impacted if someone else forced them to cross their self-imposed line. I’ve tried to handle the subject matter with respect and sincerely hope I’ve succeeded. I promise that actual violence is kept to a minimum (the bad guy gets the worst of it, for sure).
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“Arousal.”
Cal Lightman raised an eyebrow, spinning his chair around to look at Dr. Gillian Foster, who stood in the doorway of the main viewing room with a hand on her hip. Her eyes were locked on the freeze-frame of a smirking man’s face on the monitor over Cal’s head, but her lips turned up at the corners, signaling that she saw and enjoyed Cal’s reaction to her sudden entrance.
“Not at the moment, love, but you’re welcome to try.” Cal gave her a rakish grin, covering up the true attraction he felt at the sight of her red dress with an air of mischief. He couldn’t help flirting on occasion, but he never wanted Gillian to take him too seriously. “The red is a good start.”
Gillian quirked a smile, and though he couldn’t see her flush in the low light, he imagined the heat crawling up her neck. Nodding at the screen, she said, “Nathan Andrews. He’s clearly aroused right there.”
“I agree,” Ria Torres said. Cal was somewhat startled to remember that she was sitting at the row of monitors next to him. “The question is why?”
Gillian’s throat moved and she glanced down at Cal, meeting his eyes briefly, before looking at Torres. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night while we figure that out. I was going to order pizza to help us get through it. What’s your poison?”
“Pepperoni works for me.” Torres turned back to the monitor. “Thanks, Dr. Foster.”
Cal watched Gillian’s smile widen when she finally locked gazes with him. “You know what I like,” he told her in a mild voice. Better not to push his luck by continuing to flirt. Especially with a statement that loaded.
“I think I do,” Gillian said. Her voice had taken on that sexy edge he loved. She was throwing caution to the wind, flirting back. “Naked, right?”
Cal blinked and tried to interpret what she meant. All he could think was that he really loved hearing the word naked from her full red lips.
“Just cheese,” Gillian clarified. The sparkle in her eyes told him that she enjoyed leaving him speechless. “No mysterious meats or salad toppings on Cal Lightman’s pizza.”
“You got it.” Cal flashed her a quick smile then swiveled back to face the monitors. He feigned deeper interest in Nathan Andrew’s face than he actually felt. If he kept looking at Gillian, she was going to see that it was getting to him. The lingering looks, the playful banter. It seemed to be escalating lately, now that they were both single. And it was hard as hell not to let it go too far.
Not that he particularly wanted their dance to stop.
“Okay, then.” Gillian cleared her throat behind them. He could hear a trace of confusion in her voice, maybe even disappointment. “I’ll call in our order and finish up in my office. I’ll join you when the food’s here.”
He’d hurt her feelings, hadn’t he? By shutting down their banter so coldly. Cal ignored the pang of regret in his chest as best he could, holding up his hand to signal his agreement. He still couldn’t meet her eyes. “Thanks, love.”
Torres snorted softy after Gillian left the room.
“What was that?” Cal said without looking at her. He kept his voice calm while giving her a non-verbal warning. Back off or face his bloody wrath. He didn’t need the prodigious child passing judgment on his failings.
“Nothing.”
Cal turned his chair and focused on Torres’s face. She tensed slightly, as she always did when she knew he was reading her. Scorn. A familiar look of thinking he was an idiot. Amusement. “Something funny?”
“Just thinking about arousal.”
Torres knew exactly how he felt about Gillian. He could see it written all over her face. She probably even knew he was scared as hell about it. Cal leaned in close, intentionally invading Torres’s space. “So you’ve come up with something that’ll sort out this case?”
Torres blinked, all business again. She reached for the desktop controls and rewound their video. “I’m going to take this back about fifteen seconds.”
Cal stared her down. Her face had gone blank, not revealing anything. Goddamn wunderkind. “Good idea.”
Cal stewed as they reviewed the video. Maybe he should have just flirted back. One more teasing remark wouldn’t have hurt. In the future he had to make sure not to let those moments end with Gillian feeling badly about them. Or she might stop dancing around their line altogether.
A half hour later, the door to the viewing room banged open again. Cal startled at the sudden noise and swiveled in his chair, a conciliatory remark on the tip of his tongue. Time to make things right with Gillian. The sight that greeted him wiped the smile from his face and stole the words from his mouth.
Gillian wasn’t alone. A man stood behind her with his arm across her throat, holding her close to his body. He had a gun pressed to her head. Gillian’s eyes were wide with fear and blood trickled from a small cut on her forehead.
“Oh my God,” Torres murmured. She rose to her feet and the man tightened his grip on Gillian, shaking his head.
“Sit down. Right now.” The man licked his lips as his gaze darted to Cal. “Or I’ll kill her.”
He was telling the truth.
Cal tried to think, but everything was moving too fast. “Sit down, Torres.”
Torres dropped stiffly into her chair, hands in her lap. Her face told Cal she was counting on him to have a plan. Problem was, he didn’t. Gillian had a gun pointed at her head and Cal had no idea what the hell to do.
“Can we help you, mate?” Cal said as evenly as he could manage. “Why don’t you let Dr. Foster come sit down with us and we can all talk about what it is you need? Get this sorted?”
The man scoffed, an expression of contempt. Cal frowned, recognition tickling at the edges of his conscience. He knew this guy.
“How about I keep her right here with me for now?” the man said. He tightened his arm around Gillian’s chest, causing her hemline to ride up dangerously close to her hips. She was wearing red panties, to match the dress.
Anger surged through Cal. “Listen, you’ve got all the power here. You’ve got the gun. So tell me why you’re threatening my colleague.”
“This has nothing to do with your colleague.” The man’s grip on the gun relaxed slightly as he lowered his free hand to brush over Gillian’s breast. “Though I admit I was tempted to spend a little time alone with her before we came to find you.” He looked at Torres and licked his lips. “You work with some beautiful women, Dr. Lightman.”
Gillian shivered, then grimaced when the man leaned close to run his tongue along her cheek. He smiled at Cal as he did it, as though gauging his reaction.
Cal’s blood ran cold as he finally put a name to the face. “Noah Benson. You look…older.”
“You remember me,” Benson said with a grin. “Good. I remember you, too.”
Cal had never forgotten Noah Benson, or the things he had done. He was a serial rapist, a sexual sadist. Violating women hadn’t been enough for him. He’d kept his victims captive for hours upon hours, repeatedly raping them, verbally degrading them, then leaving them with the word Slut carved into their stomachs with his hunting knife. Something to remember him by. Benson was a sick, empty bastard.
And he was touching Gillian Foster. Cal’s stomach dropped, and it took everything he had not to lose his lunch on the floor. Benson had Cal’s heart in his hands and he didn’t even know it.
“They let you out?” Cal asked. Benson had been sentenced to life in prison, partially on the strength of Cal’s testimony. He knew they hadn’t released Benson. But maybe if Cal kept him talking, he’d let down his guard, make a mistake. “Time off for good behavior?”
“Oh no, Lightman. You made sure that wasn’t going to happen. Remember?”
“So you escaped and decided to come see me?” Cal gave him a grin he didn’t feel. Terror for Torres and Gillian, for his daughter Emily, flashed through his mind. “That was sweet.”
Benson looked around the dimly lit viewing room with an expression of disgust. “You got somewhere else we can go? Maybe with a table or a desk?”
Cal watched fear pass over Gillian’s face. It looked very much like what he was feeling at that moment. He didn’t like Benson’s request. “We can’t talk in here?”
“I don’t want to talk, Lightman. Now show me where we can go or I’ll have Gillian here lock you in this room while she and I find somewhere else to play.”
Like hell. Cal stood up, then raised his hands in a calming gesture when Benson reacted by jerking Gillian more tightly against him. “We have a conference room down the hall.” He would have suggested his office but he didn’t want to give Benson access to a couch.
Benson buried his nose in Gillian’s hair and inhaled deeply. “Open the door,” he murmured into her ear. He maneuvered them so that she could reach the knob, then walked her backwards out of the room. Gesturing with his head, Benson said, “You two lead the way. Do anything stupid and you’ll have one hell of a mess to clean up.”
“Come on then, Torres,” Cal said. He waited until Torres was standing close to him before he walked into the hallway. Two pizza boxes were lying on the ground near the front door. Cal glanced at Gillian, trying not to imagine how scared she must have been when Benson had attacked her. She was looking at the ceiling, and Cal could see her obvious effort to stay calm.
Benson kept his distance, never loosening his hold on Gillian. His eyes watched Torres, though, in a way that made Cal’s skin crawl.
“I love Latina women.” Benson gave Torres a seductive look, almost as though he were trying out lines at a club. “You’re very beautiful.”
“Your second victim was Latina, yeah?” Cal opened the door to the conference room, amazed that his hand wasn’t shaking. He was proud of himself. Better for Benson to think that Cal didn’t care for Torres and Foster at all. Especially when Cal knew he couldn’t stand to see either one of them hurt. Especially Gillian. “As I recall, you raped her for almost eight hours before leaving her bleeding on that warehouse floor.”
“She was also beautiful.” Benson smiled. Pride. He obviously enjoyed remembering his past conquests. Looking Torres up and down, he said, “But not as beautiful as you, Ria.”
Torres flinched noticeably. She looked just as shocked as Cal was that Benson knew her name.
“Yeah, I know all about The Lightman Group.” Benson gave Cal a smug grin. “Amazing what you can find on the Internet these days.”
“Impressive Googling,” Cal said in as bored a voice as he could manage, under the circumstances. He leaned back against the conference room table and kept his arms at his side, playing calm. “So now that you’ve got us in here, what do you want?”
Benson took his hand away from Gillian for just a moment, too quickly for Cal to react. He withdrew something from his pocket and tossed it to Cal, who caught it on instinct. Zip tie. “Secure Ms. Torres for me.” He nodded at a leather chair that sat against the wall. “Tightly, please. I’ll be checking your work.”
Cal met Torres’s eyes, apologizing silently, then took her arm and led her to the chair Benson had indicated. He pulled it away from the wall and stepped behind it. Torres sat down and linked her hands behind her back. Cal secured her a little looser than necessary, but gave her a look of warning. He didn’t want her trying anything while Gillian’s life was at stake.
“Great,” Benson said when Cal stepped away. “Now this one.” He put a hand on Gillian’s back and shoved her hard toward Cal, who caught her in his arms.
Cal gave Gillian a brief squeeze, hoping to reassure both of them. Then he helped her sit down, subtly pulling her dress over her thighs. “He hurt you?” Cal mumbled next to her ear as he tightened the zip tie around her wrists.
“I’m okay.” Gillian’s voice wavered, and it took everything Cal had not to put his arms around her.
Cal touched Gillian’s back briefly before drawing away. He turned and fixed Benson with a blank gaze. “Well, that’s done. Got a plan or are you just making this up as you go along?”
Confusion and uncertainty passed over Benson’s face. Just as Cal suspected. He was improvising. He’d come here tonight hoping to confront Cal, probably kill him, but he likely hadn’t expected to find the situation he had. And why would he? The decision to work late had been last-minute, which was why Loker wasn’t pulling an all-nighter with them. He’d had a date, thank God.
Benson’s jaw tightened. “I’ve had a plan for you since you testified against me, Lightman. Believe me. I’ve been waiting for this moment.”
“So you’re here to kill me, is that it?” Cal could hear Gillian’s quick intake of breath and hoped that Benson wasn’t paying attention to her. The last thing Cal wanted was for Benson to know how much Gillian meant to him, and he to her. A psychopath like him wouldn’t hesitate to use that knowledge to his advantage. “Will that settle our score?”
Benson’s eyes darted between Torres and Gillian. His face lit up. Happiness. Downright perverse glee. “Kill you? Now where’s the fun in that?”
“So what will it be, then?” Cal’s throat went dry at the look on Benson’s face. He knew something very bad was about to happen, but he had no idea how deep Benson’s hatred ran. To what lengths he would go for revenge. There was so much to read on Benson’s face. Contempt. Anger. Arousal. “Hand-to-hand combat?”
“I want to make you hurt,” Benson said, staring murder into Cal’s eyes. “I want you to know what it’s like to lose the trust of someone important to you. I want you to suffer. And then live with that suffering. Like I do.”
“Sounds reasonable.” Cal had no idea how to play this one, so he fell back on his ‘flippant and unpredictable’ Lightman routine. But he was rattled to the core. “But this is about me, yeah? These two just work here. They’re nothing to me. I’m sure you can come up with something better.”
Benson walked behind Gillian’s chair. Cal saw the fear in her eyes and he met her gaze, keeping his face impassive even as he willed her not to react to Benson’s taunting. That’s what this psycho wanted. A reaction. If they could keep from giving him one, maybe he would get bored.
“You fucking either of these bitches?” Benson swept Gillian’s hair away from her neck and pressed the barrel of his gun against her skin. Gillian swallowed and closed her eyes, tensing. “This one?”
Cal was glad that he was so practiced in keeping his face expressionless, because it took everything he had not to come unglued. “Dr. Foster and Ms. Torres are my colleagues. Nothing more.”
Benson stalked over to Torres, twisting her hair around his fist. “But I bet you want to fuck them, huh? I mean, how could you not?” He dropped a hand to Torres’s chest, rubbing her breast with obscene exaggeration. Disgust passed over her face and her back stiffened. “Hardest decision would be which one to do first.”
“Why don’t you be a bloody man and sort this out with me?” Cal met Benson’s hard gaze and gave him a calm smile. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but it’s not working.”
Benson’s face reddened and a vein in his forehead visibly bulged. Fury. He fumbled behind Torres’s chair for a moment then pulled her up by her hair and shoved her toward Cal. “Get over there.”
Torres stumbled into Cal’s arms. He righted her and she stepped away quickly, shooting him a nervous glance. Then she turned and fixed Benson with a blank look that stirred Cal’s pride.
“You ruined my life, Lightman.” Benson stood behind Torres’s empty chair and pointed the gun at them. “My wife Sarah filed for divorce after I went to prison. She lost faith in me. Because of your testimony. She believed you and not me.”
“You’re a rapist,” Cal said. “A sexual sadist. I’m not the one who drove your wife away. You hurt those women, and you got caught. That’s on you. Not me.”
Benson drew back his arm to deliver a vicious backhand across Gillian’s face. Gillian cried out softly, cowering in anticipation of more. Torres flinched at the sudden violence. Cal stood motionless, even as he burned inside. He was going to kill this son of a bitch.
“Ria Torres,” Benson said, turning to look at them. He smiled at Cal, as though daring him to say something else. “You’re the protégé, aren’t you?”
Torres straightened, shoulders back. Defiant. She said nothing.
Benson snorted. “I imagine you mean a lot to the Doctor here. You’re his little knowledge receptacle, right? Hanging on his every word? Seeking his approval? Making him feel like a big, strong man?”
Cal shifted his gaze to Gillian, whose face was full of dread. She was terrible at hiding her emotions. Everything she felt was broadcast for the world to see. Normally Cal loved that, but not now. Her fear would only excite Benson. Cal hardened his expression, trying to communicate with Gillian to shut it down. Everything she felt. Everything.
“Take off her clothes, Lightman.”
Cal startled. He pulled himself together almost immediately, but the command had taken him by surprise. Gillian went pale, and Cal found it almost too painful to look at her anymore.
“Excuse me?” Cal said.
Benson used his gun to gesture at Torres. “Start with her shirt. I want to see her tits.”
Cal shook his head. “No.”
Rage flashed across Benson’s face. He cocked his gun and made a show of aiming for Cal’s head. Gillian cringed below Benson’s arm and sought out Cal’s gaze, pleading with her eyes.
“You’ll do exactly what I tell you.” Benson’s features relaxed slightly. He moved the gun so the barrel pressed against Gillian’s temple. “Or I’ll blow this one’s brains out.”
Sometimes Cal was a gambling man, but not when the stakes were this high. Too high. Benson’s face told him he would pull the trigger. Cal turned to face Torres.
“Just do it.” Torres kept her voice low, meeting Cal’s gaze for only an instant before looking over his shoulder. “It’s okay. Do whatever he tells you to do.”
Cal nodded. Torres was tough. She understood. “Right,” he murmured, then brought his hands to her shirt and efficiently unbuttoned it from top to bottom. He pulled it off her shoulders and she helped him ease it down her arms, letting it drop to the floor. She wore a silky black bra, quite attractive. Cal glanced back at Benson, feigning boredom. “This what you wanted?”
Benson’s eyes narrowed. He was annoyed. Cal knew his lack of emotion meant that Benson wasn’t getting what he had hoped from this little exercise. Benson fed off the fear and pain of his victims, that’s what got him off. That Torres was just as blank as Cal had to be downright infuriating. “Now the bra.”
Cal reached around and unhooked Torres’s bra clasp. Torres slipped it off her arms and tossed it to the side. She made no move to cover herself. She just stared at Benson as though she were looking through him.
“Play with her tits,” Benson said. He shifted his weight and swallowed.
Fantastic. Benson was highly aroused. Determined to make things as uninteresting as possible, Cal rested his hand on Torres’s breast. Her flesh was warm and soft, her nipple hard against his palm. She tightened her jaw and kept her gaze locked at a point in the distance. Her face was disassociated, cold. Almost as though she were somewhere else.
Torres had been abused as a child, so it made sense that she could retreat into her head. Not react to what was happening to her, no matter how unpleasant it might be. Cal was glad for it. Between his mechanical, dispassionate movements and Torres’s distance, Benson couldn’t be getting much from this little show.
Indeed, Benson’s face twisted with frustration. “Suck on them, for Christ’s sake. Bite her nipples. Make her cry out.”
Cal chanced the quickest of looks at Gillian. Tears welled in her eyes as her throat worked convulsively. Grief. Shame. And more, so much that Lightman couldn’t immediately read it all. Then pain as Benson pressed the barrel of his gun against her temple so hard the skin turned white.
“I said suck on her titties, Lightman. Now.”
Cal didn’t meet Torres’s gaze. He wouldn’t give Benson the satisfaction. Instead he bent and put his mouth on Torres’s nipple. Torres went still as a statue.
“Bite it.”
Cal rolled his eyes. This guy was a real sicko. He tried to ignore the stiff flesh between his lips, and simply crouched there waiting for Benson to abandon his fucked-up idea of revenge. He moved his head slightly as though he were actually doing something.
Benson made an angry noise. “Fucking…Lightman, you’re a real pussy. You know that? Just stand the fuck up, okay? Forget her tits. Take off her pants.”
Cal turned around slowly. He scrutinized Benson’s eyes, trying to decide just how far he was going to go. There had to be some way to dissuade him from carrying on like this. Cal had never touched a woman without her consent and he sure as hell didn’t want to. Especially someone he cared about so deeply.
“This is really doing something for you?” Cal lifted an eyebrow, conveying pity. A touch of embarrassment, really. Hoping to shame Benson into taking Cal off on his own so Torres and Gillian might have a chance to escape.
“It’s about to get better, believe me.” Benson smiled. Confidence. Good humor. He wasn’t tired of this yet. He was just getting started. “Take off her pants and have her sit on the table.”
Gillian blanched and looked away. For an instant Cal felt overwhelmed by shame. That he had gotten her into this situation, that Torres had been dragged into it as well. This was his mess. They shouldn’t be here with him. If Benson wanted to hurt him, Cal would have rather just taken a bullet to the head.
“Just take off my fucking pants,” Torres muttered under her breath. “Do what he says. Until we have a better option.”
Right. Cal put himself between Benson and Torres, thumbing open the button on Torres’s pants and lowering the zipper without meeting her eyes. He pushed the material over her hips and she stepped out of them. Black panties, too. He hesitated.
“All of it.” Cal could hear Benson’s smile in his voice. “Naked.”
Cal pulled Torres’s panties down and she kicked them to the side. She still wouldn’t meet Cal’s eyes. He could see the tiniest bit of anger in her face, but only because he had the training to know where to look. Benson no doubt saw nothing. Drawing from Torres’s strength, Cal showed Benson nothing as well.
Torres eased onto the table, keeping her thighs pressed tightly together. Cal swallowed, afraid of what would come next.
“Put your fingers inside her.” Benson giggled, coming alive at his graphic request. “Let me see you finger-fuck that bitch.”
Cal dropped his shoulders, then turned to stalk toward Benson. “You’ve taken this far enough, eh? Let’s leave the women out of it.”
Benson dropped his hand and grabbed Gillian’s breast, squeezing her until she cried out in pain. Cal stopped his advance. Don’t react. Don’t react. Curiosity flickered over Benson’s face. He twisted Gillian’s nipple between his fingers, and she gritted her teeth and inhaled sharply. Cal felt his jaw tighten and he looked away.
“Oh,” Benson said quietly. “I picked the wrong one, didn’t I?”
Cal’s heart sank. He met Benson’s gaze as steadily as he could. “Dr. Foster is my colleague. Just like Ria Torres.”
Benson shook his head and smiled. “Not just like Torres, I don’t think.” He looked over Cal’s shoulder. “Ria, get your ass over here.” Torres walked to Benson, still naked, and sat in the chair. Benson kept his gun aimed at Gillian’s head and nodded to Cal. “Tie her, please.”
Cal walked to Torres on legs that had gone numb. His mind spun as he tried to figure out how they would get out of this. He considered lunging for Benson. Would he be able to get a shot off in time? Cal swallowed. There was a chance, which meant it was too risky to try. Better to lose Gillian’s trust and friendship than her life.
He left Torres’s zip tie even looser than the first time. Again he stared into Torres’s eyes as he drew back, hoping she understood his silent communication. Watch for him to get sloppy. Try something only if you think you’ll succeed. Torres gave Cal the barest of nods.
Cal stepped back, choking down his fear when Benson moved to Gillian’s chair and untied her. Grabbing her by the hair, Benson pulled Gillian to her feet then shoved her toward Cal just as he had with Torres. Cal moved forward to catch Gillian before she fell, pulling her into his arms.
“So she’s the one, huh?” Benson ran his eyes over Gillian’s body, from head to toe. He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, Torres is more my type. But I have to admit, Dr. Foster here is definitely fuckable. I wouldn’t kick her out of bed.”
Cal released Gillian and took a step backwards, needing to get away. Gillian made him feel weak, like he had everything to lose. This had to end. Now. He couldn’t bear it if Benson made him touch Gillian. Not when it was such a perversion of everything he wanted, everything he thought he could never have.
“Okay, Lightman. You know what to do,” Benson said.
Cal looked at Gillian’s face, even though he knew it would break his heart. Fear. Shame. Grief. He caught her gaze and shook his head, warning her. Don’t. Stop crying. Stop feeling, as much as possible. Gillian bit her lip and broke eye contact.
“Clothes. Off. Now.”
Cal could refuse. But then Benson would threaten Gillian again, or Torres, and Cal would just give in and do it anyway. And in the refusal, he would be admitting just how much Gillian meant to him. How this represented something completely different than it had when it was Torres standing here. That with Gillian, this had the potential to break him. To ruin everything.
To hell with Benson. Cal wasn’t going to let this sick fuck reduce him to begging and pleading. He wasn’t going to give Benson the victory of seeing Cal destroyed by what he was being asked to do. Cal hardened his expression and looked Gillian in the eyes. He was going to have to be strong for both of them.
Cal reached behind her and unzipped her dress. He helped her step out of it, holding her hand so she wouldn’t lose her balance. Her bra was red, to match her panties. Cal’s throat went dry and he kept his eyes locked on her clavicles, resisting the urge to let his gaze sweep over the creamy tops of her breasts.
Benson made a noise in his throat. “Maybe you’re right, Lightman. I’d never have picked Dr. Foster out as the slutty one, but…very nice.”
Gillian’s face colored. Humiliation. Cal took a chance and caught her gaze. No, he told her with his eyes. No, you’re beautiful.
Gillian bit her lip again, so hard it looked like she might draw blood. Her throat worked convulsively, and Cal knew she was struggling not to break down.
“Hurry up,” Benson said. “Take off the rest. I can see already that she’s going to be a lot more fun than the other one. She seems much more…upset about all this, don’t you think?”
Cal didn’t answer. He had no idea how upset Torres was, but there was no doubt that Gillian was devastated. Just like he was. What a fucked-up, horrible thing he was being asked to do. Cal tried to shut down his feelings as he unhooked her bra and pulled it off. Then her panties.
“Gorgeous, isn’t she?” Benson said appreciatively. “I know my cock is hard. How about yours?”
Cal couldn’t breathe. Gillian Foster, his best friend, the only woman he had ever loved honestly and unselfishly, was standing naked in front of him. Vulnerable. So lovely his heart ached. And she was frightened. Ashamed. Fury surged through Cal’s body and he had to tighten his hands into fists to keep a lid on it.
This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen.
Gillian brought up her arms and folded them over her breasts. She threw her shoulders back and put on an only marginally convincing look of defiance. Maybe Benson would buy it. Probably not. Cal sure as hell didn’t.
“So where should we begin?” Benson settled into the chair where Gillian had been tied, keeping the gun aimed at them as he spoke. “I can’t decide if I should let you get her ready, or if you should just start fucking her. There’s nothing like tearing into a woman when she’s dry. Painful, but so very satisfying. The look on her face, you know.”
Gillian’s eyes widened. Her mouth twitched and she met Cal’s gaze.
Cal read exactly what she was thinking. “I’m sure you’ll want me to prepare her,” he said quietly. “After all, that’s more for you to…enjoy.”
“Sure,” Benson said. “Why not?”
Thank God for small favors, Cal supposed. Not that he wanted to touch Gillian any more than necessary. Not when it would be a mockery of the loving caresses he had imagined himself giving her. Not when it was against her will. But penetrating her before she was ready, causing that kind of damage to her delicate flesh…it turned his stomach even to think of it.
A tear spilled from Gillian’s eye and snaked a path down her cheek. On instinct Cal brought his hand up and caught it on his thumb, wiping it away. “None of that, love,” Cal murmured under his breath. “Okay?”
Gillian nodded bravely, then exhaled. “Do whatever he says.” She met Cal’s eyes and her chin trembled. “Just don’t get killed. You hear me?”
Cal shook his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Just touch her already, Lightman. No matter how charming you think you are, I doubt she’s getting wet just talking to your ugly ass.” Gillian stared into Cal’s eyes and, incredibly, he felt a brief moment of connection despite Benson’s obnoxious voice in the background. “You have about three minutes before I expect to see your cock inside her. It’s up to you how to get her there.”
“Fucking bastard,” Cal muttered under his breath. He searched Gillian’s face, trying desperately to read what she was thinking. He knew she loved him, but had Gillian ever imagined the possibility of them being together one day? Of actually taking that chance? And would this ruin any hope for them if she had?
“Touch me, Cal,” Gillian whispered. “Please. This isn’t your fault.”
Cal felt his composure slip, and watched Gillian react to his moment of weakness. Surprise. Sympathy. And there, at the corners of her eyes. Love. She was telling him it would be okay, but he didn’t know if he believed that.
Cal pulled Gillian to him, and she tensed up until he simply wrapped his arms around her. Then she melted against him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt at his shoulders. He let his hands splay over the bare skin of her back, shivering at the feeling of her naked curves pressed against him. She was warm and soft and she smelled so good, and he was so in love with her, had been for so long, that although he felt shame when his cock hardened, he wasn’t surprised. He dropped his hand to her bottom and touched her gently.
How many times had he imagined taking her in his arms like this? Marveling over the smoothness of her bare skin? Cal didn’t want his body to respond to what was happening, but it was beyond his control. He felt sickened by how quickly he was ready to penetrate her.
And he had no idea what he should do to prepare her. Nothing seemed appropriate. Everything Cal could think of felt degrading, with Benson’s eyes on the two of them. If they were alone it would be different. But this wasn’t how he pictured them together at all, and he was loathe to throw away his visions of a perfect first coupling with the reality of forced sex.
Cal knew damn well that Benson saw through him now. This was different and that bastard knew it. Cal wished he could shut down his emotions completely so that he wouldn’t give Benson even a moment of satisfaction. He was probably capable of it, at least outwardly. But Cal refused to fuck Gillian Foster with cold, empty eyes and a face devoid of emotion. Because that would be a lie. And he wouldn’t lie to her about this.
“I’m so sorry,” Cal murmured into Gillian’s ear. He took his hand off her bottom, feeling as though he were taking advantage of her.
Gillian shook her head, brushing her lips against his cheek. “No more apologies.”
Cal knew she was telling him to stop feeling guilty, but his stomach still twisted. Steeling himself, he drew back and brought his hands to her breasts, cupping them gently. Cal locked eyes with Gillian and rubbed his thumbs over her nipples, letting her see every bit of his desire for her smoldering in his gaze. Would that turn her on? Seeing how much he wanted her? Or did it just make things worse?
Gillian bit her lip and color rose in her cheeks. Her pupils dilated. Arousal. He watched her gaze shift to Benson. Disgust. Then to Torres. Shame.
“No, love. Look at me,” Cal whispered. He dropped a hand between her legs, cupping her with trembling fingers. “Only at me. Just us here, okay?”
Gillian met his eyes and nodded. The color in her face deepened and her mouth opened slightly as his fingertip glided gently over her labia. Cal was rock hard now. Gillian was so silky and hot beneath his touch, and he enjoyed the feeling of her more than he cared to admit. Though he dared not ask her aloud, Cal raised an eyebrow in question. Was this doing anything for her?
Gillian gave him a slight nod, nostrils flaring. She seemed as though she were struggling to maintain eye contact, like she wanted to look away in embarrassment. He kept his face as still as possible, trying hard to be strong. Stepping into her, he backed Gillian up until he could lift her onto the table.
“Nice,” Benson said. “Let’s get to the good stuff.”
Cal ignored him and placed his hands on Gillian’s thighs, pressing them apart far enough to allow him to step between them. He kept his back to Benson, shielding Gillian from his view. Gillian’s breathing picked up as he rubbed his fingers over her labia then traced around her opening. His heart thudded at the slick wetness he found there.
Gillian brought her hands up and covered her face, breaking their eye contact. Her whole body screamed that she was ashamed of her arousal, even as he felt relieved by the discovery.
“This isn’t your fault either,” Cal mumbled. “Don’t you dare feel badly about any of this. You hear me?”
Gillian nodded quickly then dropped her hands. She looped her arms around his neck and brought her face close to his. Licking her lips, she hesitated a moment, checking his eyes, then pressed her mouth to his and eased her tongue inside.
Cal’s heart thudded. Christ almighty. He was kissing Gillian Foster.
It shouldn’t have felt good. Cal knew it wasn’t a real kiss, the kind he had always dreamed about. That kind of kiss wouldn’t involve a gun or an audience. So it shouldn’t have felt so goddamn exquisite, but it did. Bloody hell, it did.
Cal felt like he was going to explode. He eased a finger inside of Gillian and returned her kiss, carried away by how good it felt to touch her. More than anything he wished they had crossed this line sooner, so it could have been real. This was probably the last time he would kiss her like this. Not wanting it to end, Cal broke away only when he was desperate for air.
There was so much he wanted to say, but this wasn’t the time or the place. Still he had to say something. Cal brought his free hand to Gillian’s hair and twisted a strand around his knuckles. Tugging gently, he whispered, “You are stunning.” With his other hand he stroked inside her, easing a second finger into her pussy to join the first. She was so tight he was afraid he would hurt her. At least she was wet. “Just stunning, love.”
Gillian shifted on the desk, squirming against his fingers in a way that almost made him forget that there was someone forcing them into this. “This is going to be okay,” she murmured, cradling his face. He wasn’t sure if the words were meant for him or if she was trying to convince herself.
Benson cleared his throat. “I know how to pick ‘em, don’t I? Slut wants it, look at her.” Cal could hear Benson’s chair creak as he shifted in it. “Maybe I’ll fuck her after you, Lightman. Show her what a real man feels like.”
Gillian tightened around his fingers and her face tensed. Terror. Cal shook his head gently and met her gaze. Over his dead body. “Just me, love,” he whispered.
“Stick your cock in her, Lightman. I’m tired of this lovey-dovey shit. Just do it already.”
Cal stepped away from Gillian, removing his fingers from inside her. He half-turned to study Benson’s face. The man was pale and trembling. Shiny with sweat. Agitated and aroused. And very, very angry. They needed to figure out something soon. When Benson snapped, there would likely be little or no warning.
Shifting his gaze to Torres, Cal read very little on her face. Except resolve. She nodded at Cal, then flicked her gaze to her left, at Benson. Cal didn’t know what she was planning, but he could see that there was something going on in her mind.
Benson aimed at Torres’s head. “This is the last time I’m asking.”
Cal looked back at Gillian, who was doing a piss-poor job of hiding her reaction to Benson’s gun. “Right,” Cal murmured, and brought his hands to the button at his waist. He thumbed it open and dragged his zipper down harshly, then pushed off his pants. His erection strained against his boxer briefs. Gillian’s eyes widened slightly when she looked down and saw his obvious arousal.
Cal couldn’t even work up the courage to read Gillian’s face. He didn’t want to know what she was thinking. Even without having completed the act, things had changed between them forever. They would never be able to go back to how things had been before. A powerful wave of grief swept over Cal. Gillian was his best friend in the world, his anchor. Benson couldn’t have planned this better if he’d tried.
But there was no time to feel anything about what was about to happen. If Cal kept trying to delay the inevitable, Benson would shoot Torres. Or worse. Benson meant business and he was clearly running out of patience. Cal tugged off his boxer briefs and stood in front of Gillian. He had never felt more naked.
“Turns you on to think about raping your business partner, doesn’t it?” Benson’s words were steeped in sick pleasure. “Did you realize that, Dr. Foster? That Lightman wanted to fuck you this badly? That he would be able to get it up even when you’re this scared?”
Gillian met Cal’s gaze and shook her head lightly. Her hand brushed against the head of Cal’s cock and he nearly lost it at the warm touch of her fingers on his skin. Cal had to grit his teeth to keep himself from coming right then like a virginal schoolboy. Pathetic, is what he was. So excited he could barely contain himself. Cal found it hard to look at Gillian, not wanting to see disgust on her face.
“Don’t listen to him,” Gillian whispered. From the tone of her voice, Cal knew he wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding the effect Benson’s words had on him. “It’s just us, remember? You and me here, that’s it. And I want you too, Cal. To hell with the line. You’re not going to do anything I haven’t imagined doing with you, okay?”
Bloody hell. Cal saw no obvious signs of deceit on her face, but he didn’t know whether the confession made him feel better or worse. He felt small and helpless, ashamed that he couldn’t protect Gillian, resentful that Benson could create such an awkward situation. After so many years of loving her from a distance, respecting the boundaries of marriages and their working relationship, to have all that torn down in minutes by a garden-variety sadist…well, this was a cruel joke. Very cruel.
Cal pressed Gillian’s thighs even farther apart and stepped into the space between them, letting the head of his cock rest against her opening. He trembled as he looked down at their bodies, unable to believe what was about to happen. He was going to be inside of Gillian Foster. Finally. And there was nothing right about it. Not one thing.
“Just do it, Cal.” Gillian gripped his cock at the base and pressed the head slightly inside. He watched her quick intake of air, feeling a surge of arousal. “Fuck me. It’s okay.”
Cal drew back his hips and thrust forward, sliding deep inside Gillian. “Oh Christ,” he swore under his breath. She was so tight, so hot. Her pussy gripped him hard, holding him inside, threatening to milk all the semen from him before he could move another inch. He closed his eyes and grabbed the edge of the table, trying like hell not to ejaculate. Gillian couldn’t get pregnant, of course, but it felt too intimate to release inside her. Not to mention that if Benson thought he was finished, he might decide to pick up where Cal left off.
That thought alone was enough to stave off Cal’s orgasm. He lifted his head and looked Gillian directly in the eyes. She met his gaze head-on, showing a strength he hadn’t yet seen tonight. He felt her confidence flow through him and he pulled back slightly, then pressed inside her again.
Behind him, Torres grunted and then there was the sound of crashing. A fight. Cal withdrew from Gillian quickly, feeling a pang of guilt over the way she winced in discomfort, and turned to appraise the situation. Torres had her hands free and she lay naked below Benson on the ground, wrestling him for his gun. Without a thought, Cal launched himself at the two of them, grabbing for the gun before it could go off and injure Torres.
Outnumbered, Benson gave up his weapon after a brief struggle. As soon as Cal had the gun in his hands, he aimed it at Benson’s head. “Get the fuck off of her,” he said, finally letting the full force of his anger into his voice.
Benson ground his hips into Torres, who shoved hard against his shoulders, knocking him to the side. Rolling onto his back, Benson looked up at Cal and laughed. “Bad timing, huh? You were just about to get your rocks off.”
Torres leapt up and took the gun away from Cal, but kept it aimed at Benson. Cal was grateful not to have a weapon anymore, because he was afraid he would use it. Enraged, he drew back his fist and slammed into Benson’s nose. He felt the spray of blood against his knuckles and grinned. He punched Benson again, delighting in the way his eyes rolled back in his head.
“Lightman,” Torres said. She put her hand on his shoulder but he shrugged her off violently. Half-naked, cock still hard, he didn’t want her to touch him. Not right now.
Cal reared back and delivered a third punch to Benson’s face. He was unconscious now, Cal was sure of it, but it didn’t ease his fury to see Benson boneless on the floor. He pulled back his fist for another go.
“Cal, no. Stop.” A new hand on his shoulder. Gillian. Cal tensed and went still, breathing heavily through his mouth. “It’s over. He can’t hurt us anymore.”
Cal knew she was right, but he wanted to hit Benson again. And keep hitting him, until he stopped breathing. Shocked at the pure violence coursing through his veins, Cal rose and staggered across the room to his pants. He spared a quick glance at Gillian, who had managed to pull her bra and panties back on. More than anything he wanted take her in his arms, to hold her and be held, but guilt made him tear his gaze away.
“We have to call the police,” Torres said quietly.
Keeping his back to Gillian and Torres as they dressed, Cal tugged on his pants and considered Torres’s words. They definitely had to call the police. Benson had to pay for what he’d done. And Torres and Gillian-
“Call the police.” Cal took a deep breath and schooled his expression back to baseline. He turned and regarded Gillian for only a moment, then met Torres’s eyes. “When they get here we’re telling them the truth. That you were sexually assaulted, Torres.” He forced himself to glance at Gillian, even though the emotion on her face made his heart feel as though it was trapped in a vise. “And you were raped.”
“No.” The vehemence in Gillian’s voice shocked Cal. She presented her back to Torres, who zipped up Gillian’s dress without meeting Cal’s gaze. Even after everything that had happened, Gillian managed to look dignified as she straightened the hem around her calves. “You didn’t rape me, Cal. That’s not what just happened.”
“Forced sex, then. Whatever you want to call it, Foster. But it wasn’t lovemaking, now was it?” Cal knew he was creating distance between them, no help from Benson required. He was being a bloody idiot, in fact, but it was easier to push Gillian away before she could retreat from him. Maybe it would hurt less if he controlled the aftermath of this thing.
A myriad of emotions passed over Gillian’s face. Hurt. Profound sadness. Anger, certainly. Cal felt even smaller than he had all night, and that was saying something. She was upset with him. Again.
“That wasn’t rape.” Gillian’s chin quivered for an instant before she got control of her face. “I’ll tell the police what happened, but I’m not using that word.” She turned and walked out of the office, hands shaking.
Cal’s throat tightened and he coughed harshly, desperate to hold it together just a little longer. He could fall apart when he was alone. Not in front of Torres. Not when Gillian might come back and see. He didn’t deserve to fall apart. He was the aggressor tonight, not the victim.
Cal sneered down at Benson’s unconscious body, tempted to give him one last kick. The son of a bitch had won, hadn’t he? He’d gotten what he wanted. Cal lifted his gaze and found Torres watching him with concerned brown eyes. Leave it to her to still fix him with a look of such sympathy after everything that had happened.
“Call the fucking police,” Cal said. It came out rougher than he intended. His inner turmoil bled into his words, coarsening his language and thickening his accent. “Please, Torres. The sooner we get that done, the sooner we can all fuck off out of here.”
Torres walked to the phone. “Go talk to Foster, Lightman. Before they get here.”
Cal shook his head. “She doesn’t need me barging in on her right now.”
“I don’t think you know what she needs,” Torres muttered as she dialed.
Cal felt the anger flash across his features. God, he was exhausted. There was just no controlling his emotions anymore. “I’m not leaving you alone with this maniac. He could wake up.”
“I don’t think he’s waking up anytime soon. And I do have this.” Torres waggled the gun she still held, then turned her attention to the phone. “Yes, I’d like to report a break-in at the Lightman Group building.”
Left without the chance to snark back, Cal dropped into the chair where Gillian had been and scrubbed his hands over his face in frustration. Fuck. He could still smell her on his fingers. Cal ran his hands over his head, tugging on his hair until the pain brought tears to his eyes. Go talk to Foster, Torres said. Easier said than done.
Part 2