“So . . .” House began, and that was when Lisa knew she was in trouble. She shifted
away from him; as if physical distance would keep her from trouble. House didn’t miss her
action and gave her a slightly disappointed look. “I don’t bite . . . unless it’s requested.”


“Liar. You’ve chewed off more heads than an alligator at a Barbie doll convention,
House.”


His amused snort at her imagery echoed in the stillness of the night. “Poetic.”


“True,” Lisa replied tartly, leaning back on her hands. She slipped her feet out of her
sandals and back into the powdery sand, wiggling her toes. House watched, fascinated.


“Feet are not my thing . . . usually,” he rumbled. “I think I could make an exception in
your case.”


“I have ugly feet. They’re HUGE, and bony,” Lisa grumbled, working them deeper into
the sand. “I’ve got my vanities, but my feet aren’t on the list.”


“Maybe not yours. But I notice you still paint your toenails. You’re probably ticklish too,
and hate that vulnerability. You’re terrified to let anyone touch them.”


“Am not.”


“Are too,” House replied in a bored tone. “Just like you’re afraid to have anybody touch
your ears. Your feet and your ears are both off-limits.”


Lisa stared at him confrontationally. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”


House considered this, then shook his head reluctantly, his gaze still out over the fluffy
curl of the incoming waves.


“Not everything. But some facts about you are easy to know.”


“I’m an open book,” Lisa sighed, but House shook his head again.


“Sure, the professional Cuddy is pretty easy to read, but not the private one. The woman
called Lisa is a bit more of a challenge.”


She liked the sound of that; his reluctant admission and apparent interest as well. Still
worried it might be the lead-in to some hurtful remark though, Lisa sighed. “I’m not a
challenge, House. I’m a private person, all right? I deal with more than enough drama day
by day at the hospital. Away from there, I’m just . . . average.”


“Give me your foot,” House ordered. Lisa paused and he turned his head to look at her, unsmiling.


“Why?”


“I forget how suspicious you are. How . . . cautious,” he managed to make it sound like a
mild insult, and miffed, Lisa shifted, turning to place her right foot into his lap. Instantly
House slid his hand under her bony heel and lifted it up. Lisa braced her hands behind
her, tensing.


“House--“


Carefully, he used his other hand to rub his thumb hard on her instep and Lisa tensed,
ready to yank her leg away. House kept rubbing, the pressure strong, but not painful and
after a moment quivering between fear and comfort, Lisa relaxed a little.


Feeling it, his touch softened even more, his hands warm and strong. “See, that wasn’t
so difficult, was it? Other foot.”


More willingly this time she lifted her other leg and permitted House to stroke it. He toyed
with her toes for a moment, then applied the same pressure to the second instep,
repeating his actions in slow, firm movements. Lisa tried not to show how good it felt, but something of her pleasure must have come through because House managed one of his
shy smirks.


“Okay, my feet are relaxed, but I’m still suspicious,” Lisa told him in a low voice. “You
don’t DO this sort of thing, and certainly not for altruistic reasons.”


“No, the suspicious thing would be if I asked to touch your ears. THAT would have you
tense up like a nun in a whorehouse,” he told her cheerfully. The incongruous image
made Lisa stifle a chuckle, and she flexed her toes. House stroked the undersides of
them softly.


“That’s not true,” she challenged, suspecting it actually was, but curious as to his line of reasoning. House gently shifted her feet away and she felt the loss of contact
immediately.


“It IS true. Both ears and feet are erogenous zones, but with different proximities. Feet
are by their very placement, further away. Ears are dangerous because they’re receptive
to touch, sound and taste. Feet are only receptive to touch.”


“Isn’t taste a part of touch?” Lisa couldn’t help but ask.


House waggled his eyebrows faintly. “For ears, yes; for feet--you’d have to ask a fetishist.
I’m pretty sure Isenbach up in Podiatry could answer that.”


Cuddy winced.


House smiled this time, and used his cane to poke at one of her empty sandals. “I bet
he’d consider this the equivalent of a thong; all sexy flashy tease.”


“Ugh,” she rolled her eyes, “That’s one less thing I really wanted to know about one of my doctors, House. Thanks for planting that image. I’ll be sure to keep my pumps out of sight
under the conference table the next time I sit on a department meeting with him.”


House sighed. “Let’s get back to ears.”


“Why are you trying to seduce me?” Lisa asked in a slightly resigned tone. She could tell
she’d caught him; the guilty hunch of his shoulders gave him away.


“Because we’re sitting together on a deserted beach and you are looking very pretty and
a little vulnerable,” House replied in a monotone. “And I’m pretty sure that if I talked you
into a few drinks, I could talk you into other things as well.”


Lisa laughed.


Her tone was bemused and low; she stretched out backwards on the blanket and folded
one arm behind her head, looking up at the dark night sky, feeling heat in her stomach; a
glow of exasperated amusement for the man sitting next to her. “I know the HOW of it,
Greg. I need more on the why part. Why now? Because the implantations failed?
Because you want to throw a HUGE monkey wrench into our working relationship? Stop
me when I get close--“


“Because . . . “ and then he hesitated.


Lisa tensed.


House didn’t hesitate; even when spinning bullshit, badgering or bullying, he always
stormed on full-bore. It was his trademark--his standard and default mode for every conversation. Without thinking about it, she reached out and laid a hand on his back. The muscles there were tight, and hard.


“Got a call a few days ago. My father died.”


“Oh God—Greg—“ Lisa sat up quickly, jackknifing to a sitting position. House drew in a
hollow breath.


“Stop. It wasn’t unexpected; he’d had a history of heart trouble for years, and my mother
and talked about the eventuality a lot. I had Fort Worth send the IR and records to look it
over. Classic blockage in both myocardial arteries.”


“Whatever time you need . . . “ Lisa breathed gently, her hand still on his back. He didn’t
look at her, still keeping his gaze on the waves.


“Funeral’s at Arlington in three days,” came his thoughtful murmur. “I can be there and
back on the redeye in a day or so.”


“Don’t you want to stay? Be with your family?” Lisa blurted, taken aback by his quiet,
forceful tone.


“No. My mother is fine. She’s got more people buzzing around her now than a presidential entourage, and I’ve had enough of the quality time of my life sucked dry by military types
as it is. I’ll make the funeral but that’s pretty much it.”


Still slightly stunned, Lisa murmured, “Okay.” House looked as if he was trying to figure
out how to say something, and when he actually turned to her, she grew more worried.


In all of House’s most sincere, most direct conversations, he couldn’t make eye contact;
it had been obvious with Stacy, and later with the one moment she’d watched him with his parents in the cafeteria. Now, here he was studying the quilt between them, his head
hung low. She leaned forward, wondering when he’d last taken his meds, and if he’d
eaten.


“Greg . . . what?”


“I was going to say . . . I wanted to reconsider my refusal.”


Lisa blinked as his words washed over her. She remembered with painful clarity the
moment when he’d regretfully told her no, laying out his reasons with blunt honesty. He’d
never wanted to be a father; there were issues enough between them without a further complication . . . and that impersonal donation wasn’t his style anyway. She’d taken his
rejection with a pang of despair, accepting his decision but regretting it for weeks.


She scowled. “You’re kidding. I mean, excuse me for going blunt here, but your father
dies so you decide now that YOU want to be a father?”


“I didn’t say,” House began in a low, pinched voice, “That I wanted to be a father,
precisely. I’m not sure now or ever that I COULD be a father. Despite my amazing
intelligence and withering sarcasm, my ready-for-athletics build and endless loving
patience with the unwashed and incontinent, I’ve got a few doubts about fitting the bill.”


Cuddy made a rude noise, bringing the ghost of a smile to his mouth. He lifted his eyes to
her, and in the dim light there were sharp and bright. “But I’ve never had a doubt that
YOU’D make an amazing mother. All the guilt that makes you a crappy doctor is perfect
for motherhood.”


“Gee I’m flattered,” Lisa grumbled back dryly. “Thanks a lot for the ringing endorsement.”


“I’m not done. I once told you that you’re not happy unless things are just right and that it
meant two things—that you’re a good boss and that you’ll never be happy. Mostly that
still holds true.”


“However—?“ she prompted, curious now to see the point he was trying to make. House
sighed and rubbed a hand along his thigh.


“However, you have every right to TRY and be happy. In light of what’s happened, I
realized that in one small way I had the chance to contribute to that and didn’t take it.
I . . . want to change that.”


Lisa thought about what House had just said, and about the underlying implications of his
words; his quiet offer. She wasn’t blind to his pain, nor was she completely sure on his
motives, but here in the quiet of the dark beach this wasn’t the man everyone else saw at Princeton-Plainsboro either.


The dangerous thing about House was that when he had these moments of painful
sincerity they hit with devastating impact.


“So what you’re saying is that you’ve suddenly realized your own mortality, and are
yielding to pressure from your mother about having a grandkid,” she ventured.


House stiffened, and shot Lisa a withering look. “I hadn’t actually considered telling my
mother, although for the record she’d be ecstatic I suppose. You’d have to duke it out with
her on limiting the baby gifts.”


“For the moment, let’s leave your mother out of this; any child I have will already have
nanas and bubbes aplenty,” Lisa commented, choosing to ignore his expression for that
remark. She cleared her throat. “Your father’s death has NOTHING to do with this
sudden reversal, Greg? Not buying it.”


“Yeah, I was fairly sure you’d react with a healthy dose of cynicism. Nice to know SOME constants remain for the universe,” he muttered, and his shoulders slumped a bit.


Lisa suddenly felt bad. The man had come all the way out to bring out her extra set of car
keys, he’d told her about a personal tragedy and her she was giving him a hard time.


She sat up and slung an arm around his shoulders in a carelessly comradely fashion,
giving in to her need to offer SOME sort of comfort.


He stiffened, then with a slow sigh, softened against her offered warmth. They said
nothing, both of them very still in the quiet of the beach, not colleagues or adversaries for
the moment, but merely a man and a woman taking comfort in each other in a gentle,
quiet way.


Lisa remembered the other times when she’d held House; cuddled him to her in the
darkness. One night in the hospital after the infarction surgery, when he’d been restless
and in quiet agony in the darkness. And again, half a year later, when Stacy had left him
and he’d shown up at her place, collapsing on her sofa in exhaustion and unresolved
anger, his inability to even vocalize his hurt clear.


He trusted her, Lisa knew. He argued and fought with her, but when it came down to his
life, he trusted her and that was precious.




They went to the first little seaside motel they could find; the clerk never even looked up
from her copy of Snow Falling on Cedars as they checked in and picked up the key.


Lisa opened the door and tried to flick on the light, but House stopped her, laying one
warm hand on her wrist. She let him lead her to the bathroom, and in the straining light of
a single bulb under a frosted cover he slowly undressed her, then himself.


House turned on the water and stepped in, pulling Lisa in behind him.


Water streamed down over both of them, and it wasn’t until later that Lisa realized how
his face had already been wet before he turned to let the cascade hit him.


He yanked her up to his mouth for a broodingly deep kiss as the warm water splattered
around them. Wet and slick and brazen, House took his time claiming her mouth, sliding a
lazy tongue around hers in a slick dance punctuated by nibbles. Lisa swayed against him,
feeling the press of House’s muscle and skin against her naked body.


“Jesus I want you,” he breathed in her ear. “Deep and slow and hard all night, Lisa. Want
to bury myself in you and stay there . . .”


She trembled. House’s wet face rubbed alongside hers. Somehow they made it out of the shower, impatiently drying, reluctantly letting terrycloth come between them. House
reeled her in and sank teeth into the nape of her neck, savoring the taste of her clean
cool skin.


Lisa threw herself backwards, tugging him with her through the open door to the bed.
They dropped heavily on the thick comforter, wrapped around each other, the chill of wet
skin heating up as they rubbed shamelessly against each other once again. Lisa
whimpered with need, letting her legs hook around House’s hips, thrusting blindly against
the iron ridge of his cock.


The only light in the bedroom was a shaft from the bathroom, a slice of pale that created
a wide band across their bodies. Lisa could see the hollows and muscles of House’s torso,
the broad frame of his strong shoulders. She ran her open mouth over the hard rise of
one, letting her moan vibrate against his skin. House rolled to his side, pulling Lisa with
him, palms sliding with hungry strength over her satiny skin. She refused to lie back
however, and set out to explore his uncharted chest, claiming it with kisses and nips.
House’s astonished expression made her laugh softly; he had no concept of his own
status as an object of lust and she was dying to change that.


“Greg, I want to taste you—“ Lisa begged huskily. “Please—“ Her hands curled around
the thick shaft rising between his thighs. House drew in a shaky breath, throbbing in her
small fingers.


“Come here then—“ he breathed in a low whisper. Lisa slid down his body, pushing him
on his back, trying to keep as much skin contact as possible. House let his hands caress
her while she shifted; he licked his lips.


“I want to taste you too. MORE than taste, damn it . . .” came his slightly strangled
confession. Lisa smiled. With a graceful straddle, she let her knees drop on either side of
his head. He arched up, aristocratic mouth warmly delving to her heated sweetness.


Lisa flexed her spine in helpless response, momentarily forgetting her own intention as
House’s tongue danced wickedly across the velvety folds within her. A soft moan
escaped, bringing a satisfied chuckle from the man under her. House slid his lightly
callused hands up the silky insides of her thighs, parting them wider, greedily lapping.


“Oh God . . . “ Lisa protested faintly, unable to concentrate on anything but the heated persuasive stroking of his tongue. He let his hands slide up the inside of her thighs,
savoring the waves of pleasure he felt shuddering through her body. Nuzzling her
honeyed velvet, House tasted her orgasm when she suddenly gasped, her little sweet
moan of surprise filling the darkened bedroom.


“Ohhhhhhhhh--!” she sang out, collapsing on House. He gently nibbled her thigh then
shifted her legs off to one side, letting her rest for a moment down the length of his body.
He couldn’t help himself; he let his hands rub her ass possessively.


“Mmmmmmmmm, oh I LIKED that—“ House crowed softly. He could feel Lisa’s body,
warm and boneless across his own, and the weight of her was good.


“I haven’t come twice in one night in YEARS . . .” she confessed breathlessly.


“Maybe we can go for a triple play,” he teased softly. Lisa’s hair tickled his thighs as she laughed.


“Ambitious, aren’t you?”


“You have NO idea,” came his chuckle. House started to shift, but Lisa dropped her
mouth onto his swollen member, and he gave an involuntary moan. Her slow and
deliberate slurp sent tremors through him.


“Ooooohhhhhhhkayyyyyyy, yeah, that’s really nice toooooo—“


“Hush up, you’re breaking my concentration,” came Lisa’s preoccupied mumble. She
gracefully dipped her head, taking the heated length of him into her mouth, earning a
shivering moan from the man she was lying on. With deliberate delicacy, she managed a
teasing rhythm, never predictable, slow and fast, light teasing strokes mingled with deep sensual plunges, nibbles and kisses all along his cock, his thighs, the heavy silken mass
of his testicles. House whimpered deep in his chest, pressing his open mouthed sighs
into the damp hip resting on his shoulder. One hand was locked around her nearest leg;
the other stroked her lower back and ass.


“OhhhhGodthats--unnnngngggggg,” he fought with himself, drawing the pleasure out.
Lisa slowed down, blowing a cool breath across his cock. House gasped.


“Much as I love this, and I DO love this, we have a goal in mind--“


“Really?” her teasing tone made him throb; House reached down and tugged on her
shoulder, his intentions clear. With a last loving lick, Lisa rolled off of him, feeling herself gathered up and kissed warmly. The gentle insistent power of his body stretching out on
hers was irresistible, and Lisa sighed with a pleasure deeper than the mere physical.


Warmly, unhurriedly House took her hand, wrapped it around his shaft and whispered, “Please--?” in a timbre of controlled desire that made her nipples harden. Lisa parted her
knees and guided him in, her face pressed to the hollow of his throat, aware of his
breathing, her pulse pounding, of how everything was about to change forever.


House was big, and she gasped as he slid forward, stretching, filling a sensual ache she
didn’t realize was there until he was there, stroking powerfully, slowly.


“Ohhhhhhhh! Are you . . .” he whispered with a pleasured grunt. She reached for his
shoulders, shaking her head against his skin, lost in the heated throb of his cock deep
within her.


It was powerfully good, the relentless climb, higher and higher. House dropped his head,
panting, his entire body focused through his cock; Lisa felt every exquisite thrust and
knew it was now--


She groaned, clutching him, her climax rippling through her in strong steady surges as
she gasped. House pressed his mouth to her cheek, stifling a groan from the heart as his
lanky frame contracted, and Lisa felt the hot wet pulses deep within her. Cradling him on
her stomach, she held House tightly, crooning soft wordless sounds of pleasure as he
kissed her.


Sleep came swiftly and easily, they stayed one, dropping into deep slumber together,
wrapped up in a tangle of sheets and limbs.