DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything related to Fox or the TV show House. I'm only borrowing some characters. The characters belong to David Shore and company.

A/N: 400 reviews! THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH! :D Love you all! :)

This chapter is dedicated to my bestest online biatch, oc7ober aka Zosia :) Belated Happy Birthday, Love! :)

Many, many, many thanks, hugs and kisses to my beloved beta/friend/whiteboard Penelope Cartwright! Read "Calm Like You", people! Great read!

SMUT WARNING! Last part.

Hope you like the smut! Mwahaha :D
Brace yourselves!

BROKEN STRINGS

XIII

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Cuddy watched helplessly as House left, leaving her bewildered at his reaction. He must know that Rachel was most probably surprised at the tone of voice they had used with each other. House wasn't the only one who had been shouting. Their voices must have rattled her daughter.

She shook herself from her frozen state and moved to lock and bolt the front door, knowing that there was no chance that House would come knocking on her door that night. As soon as she did, she made her way to Rachel's room, opening the door carefully. She frowned upon seeing her daughter lying on the couch, her face buried in the upholstery.

"Rachel," she softly called to her.

Rachel lifted her head from the seat and looked at her mother, confusion and sadness painted on her face.

"Hows gone?" she asked her mother sadly. Cuddy nodded, pursing her lips as she sat down on the couch and pulled Rachel into her arms.

"Why you shouting?" Rachel mumbled against Cuddy's chest, pulling away to look at her mother.

"House and I just had a little misunderstanding," Cuddy excused, running her fingers along Rachel's hair to try and soothe her daughter.

"Why you fight?" Rachel asked, sniffling. The little girl had heard them argue before (because they almost always did) but never shout at each other the way they had earlier.

"I'm sorry, baby," she whispered, brushing away the tears that had fallen from Rachel's eyes. She wouldn't be able to explain anything to Rachel since her daughter couldn't even begin to comprehend how things worked between her and House, at least not at her age.

"Hows sad," she mumbled miserably, looking at her mother, remembering House's eyes as he looked at her mom. She hadn't meant to hide from him. She was just afraid of the tone of voice House and her mother had taken.

"Yes," Cuddy honestly told her daughter. Yes, House was sad— among many other things.

"We didn't mean to shout. I'm sorry we scared you," she apologized, running her right hand up and down Rachel's back.

"Is he going to be okay?" Rachel asked in a whisper, her voice a mixture of small, sweet and concern. She played with the edge of her mother's shirt as she awaited the woman's reply.

"Of course he's going to be okay," Cuddy assured her daughter. Sadly, Cuddy knew House was always okay even when he truly wasn't. Throughout the years, he had learned how to cope.

Cuddy sighed as Rachel settled back into her arms, wrapping her arms around her waist. Cuddy was thankful for the fact that there was no truth to House's unspoken dread of having scared Rachel. Thankfully, her daughter had only been surprised and troubled to wake up to them shouting at each other.

"Come on. Time for bed," Cuddy whispered with a soft smile.

"Is Hows going to go back?" Rachel asked as her mother settled her on her crib which was starting to be slightly small for her.

"Would you like him to be back?" Cuddy tenderly asked, tucking in her sweet daughter.

Rachel nodded, smiling.

"Yes. Hows my best friend."

It was late at night, but Cuddy found it hard to sleep. She couldn't help but think about House's face and his reaction to Rachel recoiling from him earlier that night.

Truthfully, it would be better if they had ended everything at that. But House didn't deserve that. Rachel didn't deserve that.

She knew House would think it was for the better—that it would be a catalyst for Rachel to finally get over and forget him. It wasn't fair for everyone involved though. After everything House had done for her and Rachel, he didn't deserve to think he was going to be remembered by Rachel as the temperamental jerk who was addicted to drugs and made a habit out of making her mother cry because he wasn't any of those things. Well, he was a jerk, but not in that sense.

As she gazed at the picture displayed on the Blackberry in her hand, she started deliberating whether or not to clear House of his obviously unspoken guilt of having frightened and intimidated Rachel. He deserved to know and not—like he always does—deduce why Rachel had reacted the way she did.

She had memorized every pixel of the picture she was staring at. The picture of Rachel and House asleep on his bedroom floor, Rachel settled on House's broad torso.

She sighed.

In her heart she knew House deserved to know the truth.

Now it was only a question of whether or not to approach him and let him know.

The next morning, Cuddy's office.

"You're going to have to put an end to this, Cuddy," Wilson warned her, hands on his hips. "Or fix it. I don't know. Just do something."

"It's taking a toll on him," he said. "And you," he added, pointing his index finger at her.

Wilson stared at her, frowning as he suspiciously studied her.

"There's a "but" floating in the air between us somewhere," he said.

Cuddy sighed, dropping her pen on her desk. She ran a hand through her hair before exasperatedly telling Wilson, "I know. And I did finally do something about it. Last night."Cuddy squeezed her eyes shut and opened them a second later.

"But… Rachel heard us arguing last night. She recoiled from him and House walked away."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Wilson genuinely told her, frowning.

Wilson's brows drew together as he asked, "How's Rachel?"

"She was just shocked to wake up to us shouting and arguing," Cuddy told him, shrugging. "She asked me if House was going to be okay."

"God," Cuddy sighed before looking into Wilson's eyes. Her eyes gleamed with relief yet she seemed troubled still."House and I were concerned about her reaction, butafter I apologized, she asked me if House was going to be okay."

"Well, children are resilient," Wilson told her, a corner of his mouth quirking up and into a small, boyish grin.

"And your daughter loves House—God knows why," he told her, smirking.

"She really does, Wilson," Cuddy stated fondly.

"It's what's making everything so difficult," she stated, partly sad, partly troubled. "House is good—no, great with her, and I can't pry them apart just because he and I are no longer together. It's not fair to them. But the longer I keep them hanging out together, pretending like nothing's changed between our relationship… it's going to affect Rachel."

Cuddy's look was distant as she told Wilson about their situation, lost in thought. Her brows furrowed and she turned her head to him again.

"Last night," her eyes met his again, "I told him that we had to stop it. It's also taking a toll on me, seeing them so happy together and knowing it was my choice to separate them."

Wilson was quiet for a few seconds, mulling the situation over in his mind.

"Why can't you just give him another chance, Cuddy? Give yourself another chance to be with him. Yes, it could end badly again, but don't you think he's worth the risk? That what you two had is worth fighting for?" Wilson's eyes were serious yet soft at the same time as he looked her in the eye, asking her to take a chance on House again, for them both. They were stubborn beings, those two.

"He won't be around if—"

"Listen to yourself," Wilson cut her off. "You're talking as if the past few weeks haven't happened."

Silence.

A thought came to Cuddy's mind and she couldn't help but ask, "Did he ever tell you why he took the Vicodin?"

Wilson's brows furrowed. "What?"

"Did he tell you why he had to resort to taking the Vicodin just to be able to get past seeing me in a hospital bed?"

"You've never asked him?"

"I assumed he didn't want to feel pain in seeing me in a hospital bed. I also assumed that he didn't want to open himself entirely to my fears and my pain. He told me it had been the only way I could have had him there. "

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" he asked her softly.

"Because he already told me what he wanted me to know."

"Don't you think that he hid what he really felt? We both know House. He won't tell you everything if it makes him vulnerable. And around you, he's both ironically comfortable and uncomfortable with being vulnerable."

They stayed quiet, both lost in their own thoughts until Wilson sighed heavily.

"I'll look after Rachel tonight—"

"What—"

"Talk to him, Cuddy."

Cuddy lifted her head from the floor and watched him as he swallowed and took a step closer to her desk.

He waited until he had her undivided attention before seriously telling her, "Fix or end this once and for all so the two of you could move on. But be sure it's what you want, because I won't let you hurt him again after this."

Cuddy wanted to protest, but something swirling within Wilson's brown eyes made her bite her lip.

Nonetheless, she tried one last time to talk him out of making her do this.

"Wilson, I—"

He cut her off again.

"He's my best friend, Cuddy. I don't like seeing him repeatedly hurt."

Wilson caught her eyes again. A while later, he sighed and lowered his head.

"I don't mean that I don't… I care about your happiness, too, Cuddy. I really do. You're also my friend. "

Cuddy gave him a sad smile.

"I hope you do the right thing," Wilson told her, bidding her good luck.

As an afterthought, he added, "He'd tell you the truth—what he really felt then, if he knew it truly mattered to you to know."

Cuddy nodded, watching as Wilson made his way to her office door.

"I hope he does," she told him, hoping that he really would.

Wilson gave her a comforting smile, wishing her good luck again before exiting her office.

House didn't come to work that day, choosing to diagnose his new patient from afar and effectively avoiding Cuddy. Unfortunately around four in the afternoon, House's patient died from a multitude of infections that had invaded his system.

After signing off of work, Cuddy drove to House's apartment, wanting to reassure the man and let him know that her daughter wasn't afraid of him. She didn't know why she was so determined to let him know about it, but she knew he had to know. She had seen the look of hurt and shame in his eyes upon seeing Rachel recoil from him. He hadn't wanted to frighten her daughter.

Also… she wanted to finally ask him herself about that night. The night he had chosen to give up his sobriety just to be beside her, holding her hand.

She spoke immediately when his front door opened to her. "I'm sorry about your patient," she said.

"Why are you apologizing? Did you kill him?" his sarcasm was thick.

A pause. She couldn't let him intimidate her to make her leave. In the next few minutes or hours she had, she was going to have to come up with a decision; end their personal relationship once and for all or try and get back together with him.

"We're not together, yet you still make me a crappy doctor." He mumbled disgustedly, glaring at the wall behind her.

She would have scoffed if hadn't she felt the tiniest bit guilty.

"You're really blaming me for that?" she asked wearily, internally incredulous.

"Yes."

"Why?" she asked him dryly.

"Because you just won't leave me the hell alone!" he hissed.

"It's unfair, Cuddy," he added quietly. She had nothing to say to that.

"What did you really come here for?" he barked gruffly, trying in vain to stare her down.

"Last night… You didn't frighten Rachel. She was—"

"I don't care," he cut her off stiffly, starting to shut the door in her face, but she was quick to stop him from doing so.

"You do. She was just surprised to wake up hearing us fight."

"I don't—"

"Shut up." She commanded.

He stared at her.

"She asked me if you were going to be okay. Does that sound like she's frightened of you?" her voice was strong, determined to let him know what was fact and not his convoluted, false version he chose to make himself believe.

The relief that had escaped his eyes wasn't lost to her no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

"You came here just to tell me that?" he chose to ask, acting unaffected.

"No," she stated simply, her voice dropping an octave.

"Then why—"

"Why did you take that pill?" she blurted out.

He seemed to be taken aback by the question.

"I know you were afraid of losing me. Had it really been the only way I could have had you there? Was it really justone pill?"

House's walls quickly enclosed around him, resisting her ability to make him vulnerable and admit to the real reason he took that pill.

Defensively, he retorted, "Why are you asking now? You already—"

"I want to know! Why?" her eyes blazed, resisting his resistance.

They were stubborn people, the two of them. One of them would have to back down eventually.

Being so tired from the redundancy of their conversations-slash-arguments that had been plaguing them for the past few days, House was the first to back down.

"Does it matter?" he asked her wearily.

"Right now it does," she told him softly, allowing her own walls to fall for him. He deserved it at that moment.

"Tell me," her eyes and her tone beseeched him.

His eyes were more doubtful than ever. "Why?"

"Because I want to understand," she desperately told him, her eyes still beseeching.

"Would it change anything if you did?" he quietly asked her, trying his best not to let even a sliver of hope blind him into letting her in again only for her to let go.

She took a step closer to him, her palm resting on his chest on top of his heart. Calmly, licking her lips once, she looked up at him and answered, "Right now, yes. It could."

House lowered his head, tilting it to the left. Did she mean what she said? How does he redeem himself in front of her? He had told her the truth before. She knew the truth. But it was only a few moments ago when she finally asked to know what he really felt and why he felt that taking the Vicodin was the only solution to his problem.

Could he make himself vulnerable to her now?

Could he trust her, right now, at that moment?

How could things change?

She seemed to know what she really wanted, based on the events of the past few weeks. Could anything he say change her mind at all?

He thought of those questions for a few moments, unsure as to what was the best thing for him to do. But as he studied her and those sapphire eyes, he concluded that she deserved more than her own conclusion of why he had done what he did. She deserved to know the truth straight from his heart and mouth.

"I don't… love a lot of things in my life. The ones that I do, I'm afraid of losing. I've never lost anyone I loved before, except Stacy. You saw how I was after her."

He paused, looking into her eyes as he picked his gaze up from the space between them.

"But you… Losing you… Knowing that there was a chance I could lose you just like that… I wouldn't have pulled through that. Seeing you in that hospital bed, it… scared me more than anything ever had. Not being with you, losing you… The thought alone… I—"

He cut himself off, lowering his head.

Tears started cascading down Cuddy's face. She took a step closer, shutting the door to his apartment behind her and cupped his cheek with a hand. She beckoned his face towards her own, their eyes meeting.

"Why didn't you tell me this?" she whispered in question.

"I did," he murmured, "You didn't hear me." If she didn't doubt his love and his honesty, she would have heard the words he didn't have to say for her to know.

"I was hurt," she told him, "I believed you'd pull through for me. And you did, but in a way I didn't want you to."

His head turned to the side, but she realigned his head to hers, not allowing his eyes to stray as she told him, "I didn't want you risking your sobriety for me! You didn't have to—"

"I know. But it was the only way, then, that I could have stood by you. I'm sorry," he whispered miserably, his eyes conveying more than his words ever could.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, pressing her forehead to his and closing her eyes.

As he watched her emotions get the better of her, his right hand traitorously snaked between them to cup her cheek. His thumb brushed away a tear that was about to fall. He gave up trying to restrain himself from pressing his lips to hers the moment she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

He watched, transfixed at her ethereal visage, with eyes filled with a cacophony of emotions as his lips descended upon hers. He had missed her lips; soft, supple, and seemingly formed to fit his very own like matched puzzle pieces.

The slightest graze of her lips against his felt like the sweetest taste of nectar. The moment his lips encased hers, he felt his walls fall and crumble at their feet once more.

Nothing else mattered. Not at that moment at least.

He could feel her trembling as she fought off a waterfall of tears threatening to spill; he held her tighter, pulling her gently against the solid planes of his chest and torso.

The moment he held her in tighter, she felt safe—like she always had in his arms. Her arms engulfed the expanse of his back and she stood on her toes, hands sliding up his shoulders, higher.

She had missed this, him. And he had missed her. They knew things could take a drastic turn for the worse the morning after, but at that moment, they were willing to trade it for a night of feeling the way they'd felt when they'd been together. Recreating the passion, love, and fire between them; they wanted nothing more than that.

They would worry about tomorrow, tomorrow. All that mattered at that moment was the night ahead of them.

Everything they could see and breathe was each other. Nothing had felt so right.

Her mouth succumbed to the tenderness his had showered on hers and she opened it to welcome his tongue. Their lips slid against one another, dancing together, remembering and recalling how it used to feel. It was a welcome sensation when they felt that nothing had changed; their mouths on each other still felt wonderfully the same.

Touch by touch the fire threatened to engulf them in an overwhelming intensity. It was insane, what they were doing at that moment, they knew. But they were too lost in one another to think rationally.

Tomorrow didn't matter, not at that moment, not at all.

The consequences of sharing his bed tonight would later inhabit her mind, but for now, she gave herself to him the way she had done so before they started breaking each others' hearts. Tonight, she'd allow him the opportunity to break her already shattered heart by once again exposing herself to what they still could have had, had she not ended the beautifully and complicatedly uncommon thing they had created together.

The softest of sighs escaped his lips as hers tenderly enveloped his bottom lip and bit down softly.

This was how it used to be between them, Cuddy thought longingly. It was how she wanted things to continue being. She wanted to be consumed by him; she wanted to be his again. But her fear of getting hurt by him again was preventing her from rekindling a relationship with him.

She was carried away from her thoughts when House lifted her off her feet, reminding her of the night she'd come to him, saving him from himself yet again, telling him that she loved him and that she couldn't help herself from doing so. It reminded him of that first time as well, but he carried her to his bed all the same.

No questions were asked, no words uttered. All that was to be heard was the sound of their breathing slowly accelerating in tune with their mounting desire and need for one another.

Slowly, delicately, he unbuttoned her blouse and lowered his mouth to meet her neck, kissing her on the spot he knew so well and breathing in her intoxicating scent. Her mouth fell open from the feeling of his lips upon her bare skin again, reveling in his ministrations. She moaned as his tongue traced a path from her neck to the back of her ear.

Her fingers slipped from his arms to run across his hair—another thing she had missed doing. Her fingers scraped his scalp as lightly and sensually as they could, feeling him shudder as he lavished the area from her neck to the back of her ear with attention.

He knew that he should put an end to what they were starting. It would be the right thing to do. She would leave in the morning, a part of him feared—she wouldn't, the other part assured.

Selfishly, he wanted to make love to her if only for the last time—show her just how much he loved her still. He wanted to have the memory of this final night to remind himself that he did try to be better for her. That he loved her the only way he knew how, flawed as it may have been.

As he placed his lips upon hers once again, he tried his best not to hope that she'd stay with him until he woke up. He didn't trust her to change her mind over this.

"House," she sighed into his mouth, her voice barely audible against his lips, pulling him from his thoughts. She had missed this, too, whispering his name intimately.

Her mind was swirling with so many feelings; she couldn't do anything but shove everything else back, choosing to relive the fire they had always had for each other.

Their eyes met and she couldn't breathe, lost in his cerulean seas. She pecked his lips once, twice. A smile emanating from his lips nearly drove her to tears she knew to be due to happiness.

How could she have chosen to escape the security of his arms? Why had she chosen to leave him, give up on him, and be without him?

The reasons why were lost to her as she drowned herself in the sea of emotions showing in his eyes.

His hand cupped her cheek, stroking her jaw line and cheek with his thumb. The affection he was bathing her in made her close her eyes.

"I love you," he told her in an amorous whisper, leaning his forehead against hers before placing the most loving of kisses on the corner of her mouth. She sighed, contented to just lie beneath him. One hand cradled his neck gently, fingers framing his jaw while the other gripped his shoulder.

"I love you," she freely told him, reminding herself that this was the reason why she wanted to start over with him again.

"I love you," he repeated, lips now enveloping her own, kissing her softly, lazily, lovingly.

She would have smiled had she known what her true decision would be.

She chose to forget about tomorrow yet again by claiming his lips and thrusting her tongue into his waiting mouth, moaning softly as he reciprocated just as eagerly.

Deftly, her fingers slowly slid his shirt up his body before pulling it off, breaking their kiss for a few seconds. She let the shirt drop to the floor before running her hands up and down his chest, sighing in desire against his lips when they started kissing again.

He helped her remove her shirt and he met her eyes before leaning down to run his stubble along the creamy tops of her breasts. Her breath hitched when she felt his lips come in contact with her skin, kissing the exposed part of her right breast, his tongue teasingly gliding in accordance with his mouth. He reached behind her to unhook her bra, but he found nothing to undo.

"Let me," she whispered, her hands meeting in between her bust to unclasp the bra she was wearing.

He watched in awe as her breasts spilled into his waiting hands, his need and desire to make love to her again making his breathing more labored. Gently, he massaged her breasts with his hands, flicking at her nipples.

She snaked a hand up his arm and onto the back of his head, pulling him down to her breast, wordlessly telling him what she wanted him to do next. He willingly obliged, taking a hardened nipple into his mouth, suckling her breast and nibbling at her bud in agonizingly slow strokes. He alternated between her breasts, seemingly not able to get enough after such long separation.

Finally feeling that he had lavished her breasts with enough attention, he moved up her body and claimed her lips again. He watched her eyes flutter closed as their lips meshed, and slowly, he closed his eyes as well, losing himself in the reunion of their lips.

There was a moment when all House did was bury his face in the crook of her neck, his ear flattened against her shoulder. He listened to her heart beating and wasn't surprised when his drummed along in sync. He could feel her fingers carding through his hair, allowing him to take his time in trying to process what they were about to go through, because she was, just like him, doing the same.

It took them a long while until they were finally skin on skin, their clothes discarded on the floor.

There were no reassurances about what would happen tomorrow morning upon opening their eyes to a new day, but as they lay in each other's arms, nothing else really mattered.

Slowly, he started kissing his way back to her lips, nipping intimately at her skin until his mouth met her lips again.

He felt her gasp into his mouth as his left hand leisurely moved between them, reaching well below her navel. Her mouth fell open as he parted her with his fingers, feeling the warmth and wetness coating her core. She whispered his name breathlessly as he slid a lean digit inside her, pushing in and withdrawing as painstakingly slow as he could, driving her to the brink of insanity. She wanted more. She wanted to feel him inside her while he kissed her lips and looked into her eyes.

Her back arched and she wrapped her arms around himas he sheathed himself inside her warmth. Her breath hitched as he thrust gently into her to occupy the space within her. She buried her face in his neck, nipping at his skin and soothing her nips with kisses and licks, lost in pleasure.

"Cuddy." He breathed into her ear, nuzzling her cheek.

She released a breath, almost smiling as her hips met his forward thrust.

"House," she quietly sighed, biting her lower lip.

House lathered her with openmouthed kisses up and down her neck, his breath becoming more labored as her core enveloped him tightly. She was clenching at him involuntarily, adding to his arousal and need.

Her hand slid from his neck to cup the back of his neck, gasping breathlessly as he came in contact with that spot within her that brought her to euphoric bliss every time. Her eyes burned with the memory of them in their most intimate of moments—just like this. His tenderness, his attentiveness… his love.

She arched into his torso, arms cinching up and around the expanse of his back. Her lips pressed against his shoulder, breathing in everything that was him.

Every act, every single move, he calculated. He wanted it to last—hopeful as he may finally have allowed himself to be, he was still afraid she'd arrive to the decision to leave him in the morning. Every second he spent making love to her was savored and stored into his memory. For if this was the last time, then at least he'd remember putting her first. "Choosing to make her happy now than have her up and leave in the morning, fear and doubt niggling in the back of his head as he thought of the probability of her leaving him no matter what he did."

He kissed the shell of her ear, breathing hard against her head as he rigorously pursued leading her into that nirvana they had once always sought and reached, together. That fulfilling, pleasurable area in time and space where time itself stood still and nothing, nothing else mattered.

She fell back onto the mattress, her head hitting the pillow, as he slowed down the undulating of his powerfully built hips… only to pick up where he'd just left off. Again, moving… very swiftly on—well, in and out.

She followed suit, meeting him with every single move he made. Her pelvis arched sinuously into his as he rolled his hips against her, her nails slowly starting to trail down his back, leaving in their wake red marks—the marks of pleasure he had elicited from her. She arched her head and his mouth dove into the hollow of her throat, kissing her there before trailing his mouth up her throat. She swallowed hard, breathed out a sigh, then moaned as he enveloped her chin with his mouth and trailed it upwards once again to claim her lips. She sighed into his mouth, eyes shut.

At the feel of her becoming tighter, gripping at him more urgently and maddeningly scalding, he quickened his pace. He was also nearing the edge, but he wanted her to reach it first.

"Look at me," he whispered, cupping her cheek with a trembling hand. The darkness of his bedroom made it impossible to see, but her eyes opened nonetheless. She couldn't see him, but she could see his heart so visibly. Her heart ached at just how much he loved her still.

Cuddy panted as her body quaked in tune with the orgasm slowly tearing its way in, through, and out of her, driving her mad with pleasure. She met his thrusts and gripped him tighter as she felt his body start to tremble as well.

He buried his face into the space where her neck and shoulder met, panting breathlessly as he waited for her to fall into that elating space he longed to bring her home to, if only for the last time. His hips rolled, one deep and final fluid forward motion, and she was driven to a powerful orgasm.

She clutched him to her chest, mouth wide open and her breath taken from her, gasping and panting as his thrusts continued coming like the un-calming waves of an ocean, prolonging her pleasure. A few seconds later, still basking in the euphoria of her orgasm, she angled her hips and started meeting his quickening pace.

He was so close, she could feel it. She gripped him, lathering his neck with kisses as she moaned at the feeling of another wave of orgasm slowly building and rising from within her. The angle she had taken would be their undoing.

His fingers caressed her thigh, molding his palm against her curves. He panted, so very near that edge she had fallen off earlier. He snaked his hand between their scalding and sweating bodies and sought out her slit, his fingers rubbing her there. Slowly, making her moan. Then quicker and quicker, taking her breath away and making her cry out as she reached orgasm yet again, her walls clamping down on him deliciously merciless yet again.

The feel of her hot velvet walls surrounding him, gripping at him as she convulsed, brought him to orgasm. He came, still surging in and out of her as he exploded into her core, saturating her.

The rolling of his hips eventually came to a halt and he sagged carefully on top of her, his cheek pressed against the planes of her shoulder. He tilted his head up a bit and pressed his lips against her jaw, breathing in the addicting scent of her and them, together.

She moaned softly and shuddered as he slipped out of her, leaving a thick trail of his desire to dry against her thigh.

"Stay," he whispered, sliding onto the bed beside her. He ran his hand from between her legs, up her torso. He cupped her cheek and laid the softest of kisses upon her parted lips.

She ran her fingers through his damp hair as she molded herself into his side, head upon his chest.

"Stay," he repeated in a soft, whispered request, wrapping an arm around her.

She did.

But only to leave again in the morning as he slept confidently knowing she would be beside him when he woke up.

A/N: Loved, liked, hated me yet again for that last line? Do let me know what you think about the smut and the chapter as a whole. :)

Thank you for taking the time to leave reviews. Thank you so much for reading! :D