Morning came, and with it an extremely unwelcome five-thirty wakeup call. For a moment, Lara was confused; a strange bed, a loud ringing noise, the weight and heat of someone lying next to her. Then it came back to her, slowly, the thoughts pounding into her mind along with the pain of a savage headache.
Firstly and most importantly, she had to get up and drive Larissa and Paul to the airport so they could catch the plane to departure point for their honeymoon cruise in the Caribbean. She decided she'd focus on that for now and deal with the rest later.
The man next to her snorted in his sleep, clearly the ringing phone was having no affect on him whatsoever. Lara reached over him and answered it, not bothering to hold the receiver up to her ear; she simply picked it up and dropped it back into the cradle.
She rose and grabbed jeans and a sweater from her overnight bag.
Larissa owes me big time for this.
She was just shoving her feet into runners when a sleepy, croaky voice called out from the bed.
"Where are you going?"
"Have to take Larissa and Paul to the airport."
"You driving?"
"Yeah. My car's here."
"You'll still be over the limit."
His simple words crashed through her as she stood, unsteadily, on her feet. He was right. She was absolutely still drunk. It had been less than five hours since she'd fallen asleep, nowhere near enough time to process all the alcohol in her system.
"Shit."
"Call them a cab then come back to bed."
Lara grabbed her cell phone and dialled her ever-reliable limousine service, the drivers who were always especially patient with her delicate, tantrum-inclined authors.
"I'll be right back," she promised House, heading out of the room and down to the foyer. Along the way she begged, pleaded and cajoled for a driver to come urgently and by the time she saw Larissa and Paul standing sleepily with their arms around each other, she'd arranged for a car to arrive in fifteen minutes.
She quickly explained her dilemma and the solution she'd organised, and thankfully the couple were amused and not annoyed. Larissa was very chatty, needing reassurance about how lovely the night had been, and Lara guaranteed her that it had been the best wedding ever in the entire world. She nodded politely at the stories Larissa had to tell, and avoided letting slip that she'd skipped out early. After just ten minutes, the car pulled up outside and Paul began dragging their luggage out to it. Larissa pulled her to one side and whispered urgently, "I heard you picked up!"
"Yes, I did," Lara said. "He's up there now."
"Good girl," Larissa said approvingly. "That's why I didn't make you be a bridesmaid you know, I wanted you to be free to find yourself a good shag."
I wouldn't say good, Lara thought to herself, trying to remember the details. There had been sex, she was pretty sure. But it had been pretty lame, from what she remembered. Or maybe he'd rocked her world and she was just too smashed to remember it.
"Yeah, yeah," she said instead, giving her friend a push towards the door. "Go on, get yourself out of here. You've got a lot of shagging to get on with yourself."
"I want to hear all the details when I get back."
"Go!" Lara ordered, pointing at the car. "Call me to let me know you got there safely."
Lara watched her friend and her new husband climb into the limo. She smiled, genuinely happy for Larissa. Paul was a kind, generous, optimistic kind of guy. Perfect for Larissa. The kind of man Lara wished she could be happy with. But no, men like him were just too nice. Perhaps her shrink would tell her she was being masochistic, but Lara had decided it was more that she liked a challenge.
Challenges that fuck their co-workers just months before their wedding and don't bother to hide the evidence, a voice reminded her. Lara shrugged it away.
The limo driver gave her a quick wave before disappearing into the car. Lara sighed. She might have dodged being a bridesmaid, but by the time she paid for the limo and her room, she knew the whole wedding would still be an expensive experience.
The little coffee cart in the foyer was just starting up as she made her way back to the elevators and on a whim she ordered a couple of lattes to go. She had no idea if he drank coffee, but the way she was feeling, she could probably drink both anyway. She desperately wanted to go back to sleep, but now she was up, it was probably a good idea to get moving, get the guy out – his name was Greg, wasn't it? That was right, Greg House, a strange kind of name – and try to forget the whole sorry night.
I really, really hate weddings.
--
While Lara was out attending to her friends, House got out of bed, took off the very crumpled shirt he'd ended up sleeping in, had a quick shower, brushed his teeth with Lara's toothbrush, then took two Vicodin and had to lie down again. His hangover was going to be bad when it hit, but it wasn't quite there yet and by medicating now there was every chance of heading it off at the pass.
He could have got down on his knees and worshipped her when Lara returned holding two steaming cups of coffee and offered him one.
"By all that's good and holy this is the best coffee I've ever had," he said after he'd taken a few sips.
"Really?" Lara asked mildly. He couldn't help but notice that while he was naked and back in bed with the sheet pulled over him, she perched on the edge of the bed, making no move to take off the clothes she'd put on to go downstairs.
"Really. Either that or I'm still drunk."
"You're still drunk."
"So are you."
"Yes, probably." Lara shifted, facing away from him. "We had sex . . . didn't we?"
House took a long drink from his coffee cup, wanting to avoid looking at her as he answered. He wasn't proud of what had transpired between them. "Um, kind of. I don't think it counts."
"Why?" she asked hesitantly.
House felt even more embarrassed having to make a definitive admission about his poor performance. "My, uh, aim wasn't . . . great. But I do remember saying I'd make it up to you."
"Oh?"
Lara seemed a little surprised. He wondered if she just wanted him to leave. But he couldn't leave her with that idea of him as a lover. It just wasn't right. "Get undressed and get back in bed."
She gave him a small smile. "I know it's early, but I was kind of thinking I'd pack up and head home. You can stay if you want, check out's at ten."
"Three hours, hmm." House leaned forward and lifted the coffee gently out of her hand, putting both cups down on the nightstand. "That might be just enough time for what I have planned."
He tugged on her arm, and watched as warring thoughts seemed to play across Lara's face. She was clearly undecided about whether or not to stay and House had to admit, he didn't blame her. From what he remembered of what they'd done last night – and his memory of it was pretty hazy – he certainly wouldn't be lining up for a repeat. But now that he'd gone out on a limb, trying to get her to stay, it would be even more demoralizing if she turned him down. He held his breath, waiting.
She smiled. "Hang on a sec. I need some Tylenol if there's going to be any heavy breathing in my future."
House found himself already starting to get hard, just from her smile. She returned from the bathroom and quickly swallowed some pills and a glass of water. She stripped off her jeans and sweater, revealing pretty, demure white lace panties and bra.
"Leave those on," he said, as she put her hands behind her back to undo the bra's clasp. "I want to take them off."
She smiled again and knelt on the bed, crawling towards him on her hands and knees. House admired her body. It wasn't movie-star quality and betrayed a less-than-enthusiastic commitment to fitness, but then, he wasn't exactly Brad Pitt himself. Besides, the curves were mostly in the right places, so he wasn't about to complain.
Over the next half hour or so, House made it his personal mission to reduce Lara Thompson to a begging mess. She'd acted as if she could take or leave spending more time with him, and he was going to teach her what she just might have missed out on. With his fingers and mouth, he mapped her body, learning what made her groan and tremble, building her to a pitch before she screamed out an orgasm that left her shaking and breathless.
He even treated her to what he considered the bonus extra: he gathered her into his arms immediately afterwards, holding her tight against his chest while her shudders subsided and she tried to reign in her breath.
"Oh my God," she said, eventually. "I guess everyone on this floor is awake now."
House chuckled. "Not a bad wake up call."
"Are you this good sober?" Her hand began to gently stroke his chest.
"There's a perfect balance, somewhere between sober and drunk, where I perform at my best."
"Obviously."
Her leg wrapped over his, rubbing upwards until her thigh brushed against his erection. "More?" she asked, looking up at him and blinking coyly. "I have condoms. Lots. I was hoping to get something good out of this wedding."
House laughed. "Go get them."
She scrambled out of bed, rummaged in the bathroom for a moment and then returned with a handful of foil packets. "You're optimistic," House said.
"Yep," she admitted. She handed one to him and crawled back on the bed, pulling the sheet back, her hands roaming over his body.
"Does your leg hurt?" she asked, studying his scar.
House felt himself get annoyed; he'd been hoping they could do this without having that conversation. He tried to remind himself that it was natural she'd be curious, he would be too, if their positions were reversed, but it simply wasn't a turn on to talk about pain.
"Yes. All the time."
"Oh. So maybe I should be on top then?" she asked, her mouth quirking up in a smile.
House laughed. Not at all what he'd expected her to say.
"That's fine with me."
Lara dressed him and after more kissing, touching, and some powerful and long-lasting thrusting – for which he mentally congratulated himself – House managed to wait until Lara came again before he collapsed himself into shuddery, orgasm bliss.
They lay together, just touching, breathing heavily for a long while.
"You know what?" Lara said, breaking the silence.
"What?"
"I really, really want some bacon."
House smiled. "Yeah. Bacon. And eggs. And sausage," he added, his mouth beginning to water at the thought.
Lara pulled a face. "You can have the sausage."
"I want breakfast, more coffee and more sleep. And more sex," he added, giving her a sideways glance.
Lara lifted her head and looked at the clock. She flopped back in bed with a sigh. "We really should get moving."
"I have an idea." Without discussing it first with Lara, House picked up the phone, dialled reception and told them they'd decided to stay another night. The receptionist was pleased to accept their booking and House realised it was probably lucky for them that it was a Sunday. He then asked to be put through to room service and ordered them a lavish breakfast.
Lara grinned at him when he hung up. "Brilliant idea. I have no idea how I'm going to pay for it, but it's a truly brilliant idea."
"I'll pay the room tab," he said. "And the room service, if you'll go down on me while I watch hotel porn."
Lara laughed and her memory vaguely recalled him saying something similar the night before about the elevator.
"Will you fuck me in the bath?" she asked cheekily. "When I checked in, I promised myself a long soak in that big tub. I didn't think I'd have company, but I'm sure we'll both fit."
"Honey, I'll fuck you on every surface in this room," House promised. "We've got all day and all night."
--
Their day unfolded just as they'd planned. As soon as the room service guy left, Lara hung the "do not disturb" sign to avoid being interrupted by the maid. They both ate their breakfasts ravenously, then fell into bed again and slept for a few hours. In the early afternoon they woke, took a bath, and proceeded to make love in every place and every position Lara could imagine and that House was capable of.
At around ten that night, Lara decided it was time for her to go home. She was too sore and too sated to be up for anything more, and she had to be ready for work the next day. Leaving from the hotel in the morning and going home first would mean a very early start and besides, something about the moment just made it feel right to say goodbye. House didn't protest when Lara announced her intentions, just nodded and bent his head to her brief kiss as she unwound herself from around him and got out of bed.
He lay there and watched as she packed her tiny bag, spending some time searching for the tiny panties she'd worn the night before; eventually finding them kicked under the bed.
When she finally had everything together, she leant over and kissed him, long, slow and deep. It was almost enough for her to throw her bag aside and crawl back into bed again, but the pleasurable ache between her thighs told her that she'd really had enough.
"Can I . . . Can I see you again?" he asked as she pulled away. Lara was touched by the tentativeness in his voice. It convinced her that he was a man of layers, more than just the brash, arrogant man she'd got to know last night.
She took in a deep breath and let it out in a rush. It was supposed to have been one night, one night of sex. It had already been two, kind of, she reasoned to herself. Agreeing to see him again was a risk, but then coming up to the room with him in the first place had also been a risk - and she had to admit that it had paid off handsomely. Eventually. Josh had been over three months ago now – it wasn't like she had to go into mourning for a year or something.
"I'd like that," she said finally. "Really," she added, to make up for the fact that she'd paused before answering. Then she sighed as her calendar popped up behind her eyes. "Oh, damn. I'm leaving on Wednesday for an author's tour. Going with this woman who's written a book about being the perfect parent or some crap."
"Some crap?" House asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I told you, lying for a living." They both chuckled. "How about I give you a call when I get back?" she suggested.
"Sure. How long will you be away?"
"About six weeks."
"Jeez. Where are you going?"
"LA, Chicago, New York, London, Singapore, Sydney—"
"I get it, I get it," House interrupted. "Anywhere humans might buy books before they decide to breed."
"Yup. It's a big marketplace."
"Hand me my pants," House said, waving at the black trousers lying in a heap on the floor. Lara did so and House reached into a pocket and pulled out his wallet. He flicked it open and grabbed a business card, handing it to her.
"Call me," he said, giving her a deliberately sleazy wink. "I'll drink just the right amount and we can do this all again."
Lara laughed. "I'd like that."