Disclaimer: Not mine. I'll settle for a cherry sundae. (Thanks to all reviewers so far. It's worth the wait...)

IV

What a ride. This is how he makes love.

She couldn't help but think it. Sitting on the back of his bike. Gripping his leather jacket. The bike vibrating to the pump of her blood in her ears. Moving with him as he guides the heavy machine around the twists and turns of the roads. Her legs shaking as they press against the back of his thighs. The heat between her legs driving into the back of his jeans.

This is how he keeps control.

He said something. She didn't hear what. Cocooned in the padding of the helmet she could pretend that it was something that would make her toes curl.

She thought about her fingers, resting either side of the zip on his jacket. How easy it would be to – but then he speeded up and they were stuck gripping and grasping for dear life and the idea of them moving down a couple of inches were lost somewhere in the panic.

Look at the hot girl on the bike.

They'd pulled up to some lights and he'd put his leg out to steady the bike, moving against her ankle as he did so.

He glared at the frat pack filling the car next to him.

Five young guys gawped at Cameron as she slackened her grip on House's waist and waited for the lights to change.

"How hot is she?" One had said to another.

Cameron flushed bright red beneath the helmet but managed to glare at them with an icy stare.

"I'd fuck her." The freshest faced guy said angling his head out of the open window and peering at her legs as if she couldn't hear them.

She'd turned her head to glance at the car on the other side of her. Some school-run mom and crying kid.

She wondered if House had heard them.

And then…

When the lights turned green they'd pulled away so fast that she'd had to hold on for dear life. A million images of motorbike riders in the emergency room flashed through her mind.

XXX

"That wasn't funny!"

She'd dismounted the bike in the parking lot but was still trembling from the speed and the fear and the what might happen next.

House got off and pulled off his helmet. "Those guys were bothering you and I know you're too polite to flip them the bird."

She struggled to remove her helmet and so House helped her gleefully revealing her flushed face and messy hair.

"How do you know I didn't flip them the bird?"

"Oh please." He said, removing his cane from the bike and setting it down on the gravel. "You were too busy holding on. Which I must add –"

She followed cautiously behind him.

"- has left teeth marks in my neck."

She rolled her eyes and caught up to him.

In front of them was a diner. A teenage girl stood on the step next to the entrance smoking a cigarette. She was wearing a little uniform with a chequered mini skirt.

"I love this place." House said almost smiling at the girl as they walked through the door.

She followed him to a booth and slid in opposite him. Her legs came to rest between his own and she watched him carefully.

"Is this a test?" She ran her fingers over the laminated menu in disdain.

"Huh?" House removed his jacket and slung it behind him.

"Do you wait until I've finished and then check to see if I'm throwing up in the bathroom?"

House gasped in mock surprise. "You know me so well."

"What then?"

House leaned into her. Puppy dog eyes scanning her face.

"To tell you the truth. I've had many happy times here. This was the place that I used to bring…"

She gulped hard. The hairs on the back of her neck starting to stand up. After all of this, they were so close was he going to bring her name into the frame. Stacy?

"Wilson. Before he got all fancy and swapped fries for pomme de frittes."

He noticed her relax a little and sink back onto the plastic ledge.

She scanned the menu and muttered: "You mean before you made him royally pissed?"

She heard him catch his breath. Had he laughed? Could it be possible?

A middle-aged waitress who looked like she'd rather be anywhere else in the world on such a hot day sauntered over and directed her question out towards the open window: "You ready to order?"

House grabbed the menu from Cameron: "Two cherry sundaes."

Cameron grabbed the menu back: "And I'll have a soda float. Chocolate."

She smiled at the waitress who yawned and walked away.

"I don't like cherries."

House rested his chin on his hand and blinked: "What? What about when you used to tie a knot in the stalk with your tongue?"

"That wasn't me." She said, turning to look out of the window at the bike glinting in the sun. "Are you thinking of Wilson again?"

He nodded appreciatively. "There's me getting fantasy and reality confused again."

She looked back at him raising her eyebrows: "About Wilson?"

His beeper sounded and he grabbed it, angling it to read it in the sun.

"No. About you."

That threw her. She felt herself sliding into a big pool of emotional mush. Her pulse was banging against the side of her forehead. A rabbit caught in the headlights. She turned to peer back out of the window, feeling a slow flush creep over her.

"Do you really dream about me?" It came out a guttural whisper, almost inaudible beside the open window.

He didn't say anything, putting his beeper back in his pocket and following her stare to the parking lot and the open fields beyond.

"Does it matter?"

"I'd like to know." She tried to stay cool, watching the teenage waitress throw her cigarette butt down into the dried mud.

"Why?" His voice was so steady.

Hers jumping, changing octave, rushing and then faltering: "Because it means…"

"Dreams don't mean anything just because Freud –"

He was stopped by the reappearance of the older waitress with the sundaes and the chocolate float.

Cameron was glad. She knew he'd been about to deliver a speech that would silence her. She couldn't let that happen again. Not now.

They both ate in silence. She watched him steadily. He consumed both the sundaes and half of her float when she'd eaten as much as she could stomach with his eyes on her mouth.

His cell phone rang. He answered and she started to pull her jacket back on. It was a reminder in a hazy moment that they should be back at work.

She was buttoning up when she heard him say: "By the way, I've never seen anything as erotic as Allison Cameron eating ice cream."

She stopped dead in her tracks and peered up at him. Her eyes flashing brown and then green. Oh my god.

He swapped his cell phone from one hand to the next. "And no, buddy, I don't want to change my bike insurance."

He snapped the phone shut and looked up at her. He grinned. A slow grin that he couldn't stop.

"Ridiculous." She said as she headed out of the door first. She tried to hide the trace of a smile on her lips.

Outside she waited next to his bike and watched him limping towards her.

She was almost wet with anticipation for the journey back. How she'd hold onto him. How they'd be so close and how she could enjoy it without giving anything away.

He held out her helmet to her:" You ready?"

She nodded. Breathed. Her breath unsteady.

He took a step towards her, bringing the helmet above her head.

She closed her eyes waiting to feel the heaviness come down across her face and encase her head.

Instead she waited. Eye lids flickering. Strands of hair wiping across her face in the breeze. Mouth open. Poised.

The sensation was slow at first. A slight prickle across her lips. A gentle softness moving over her top lip and then the taste of cherries and ice cream.

His hand pulled her by the neck into him. His kiss like an epic. Like Clark Gable and Rock Hudson and Steve McQueen. He ran his tongue over her bottom lip and then her teeth and then probed further into her.

She felt limp and otherworldly as he kissed her. Deeper. Harder. Pulling her closer. Too close. Not close enough.

His hand tangled in her hair and he tried to undo it adding a thread of pain to her web of desire.

She kissed him back. Softly. Delicately. Gently.

She opened her eyes as she did. Shocked by his actions. By her own. And she noticed his furrowed brow. His eyes were shut tightly. Concentrating but there was a definite frown.

She brought her hand up to his face, and kissed him deeper. Her tongue submitting and then lashing against his. She ran her fingers over his frown, trying to smooth it out without him noticing but then just giving up and concentrating on the moment.

She moved her hands to his arms, trying to break his hold. Trying to break his kiss. This was too much. She felt like she was on fire. Like she needed him to unbutton his jeans quickly and discreetly and start to slowly fuck her.

It was too much. She was kissing him. He was kissing her.

House was kissing her. And he wasn't just doing it. He was meaning it.

Finally, she struggled and broke free.

She grabbed the helmet and pulled it down over her face.

He looked at her for a moment. What good were words now? What good had they ever been between the two of them?

He released his grip on her arm and got onto the bike, putting on his own helmet and pulling the visor down.

She slid into the seat behind him and he started the engine which didn't much help her uneasy breathing and she shifted so that her clit – that already felt like it was on fire – wasn't pressed right against the vibrating seat.

They sped away, heading back to the hospital, but wondering where they'd go from there.