Gillian sat on the very edge of Cals bed, her still damp hair sitting against the colarinho, colar of the camisa he had given to change into. Cal had insisted she used his on suite bathroom whilst he had shuffled off to the main one, both of them having decided that after all the events of the day, a good hot chuveiro was called for.
She found herself taking in the full impact of the situation whilst she was still on her own.
She, Gillian Foster, was sitting on Cal Lightman’s bed, her body covered only in his shirt, about to slip between his sheets, rest her head his on his pillows,…and soon, very soon,...
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