Jen had quickly showered and changed and they'd caught a cab to Greg's place. She was in his living room while he showered and she didn't quite know what to do with herself. Her fingers itched to snoop around, but her manners told her to wait patiently on the sofa. Then she remembered the first time he'd been at her place, the way he'd rummaged through the box that held her degrees without compunction.

She stood and went to the book shelf, perusing the books there. She was looking for novels, clues to the person he was by the books that he read, but all she could find were medical texts and the odd non-fiction book about rare animals and history. She guessed that was a pretty big clue in itself.

It had been a while since the water had stopped running in the bathroom and she wondered what he was up to. She thought it was entirely possible he'd fallen asleep again – he'd closed his eyes and been dozing in the cab on the way over, obviously still fighting his hangover. She still wanted to know why he'd been so drunk the night before. Was it a regular thing? If so, that was something to be worried about. Or had something set it off?

"What are you doing out there?" His voice called out from the bedroom.

"Waiting for you," Jen called back.

"Well I'm waiting for you here."

Jen was faintly surprised by the dip in her stomach at his words. Of course she knew what was on offer when she accepted the invitation to stay with him, but she hadn't thought it would come around quite so quickly. She'd imagined an afternoon movie on TV or a DVD, maybe dinner and then bed. But still, perhaps it was for the best – the longer it took to get around to it, the more time she had to get nervous. She gave herself a mental pep talk as she walked down the far too short corridor towards the bedroom.

Everything will be fine. He's already seen you naked. You're not perfect and he's not perfect. You've already made him come once before – actually twice if you count the sex. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do.

But her brain suddenly took her down a different track.

What if this time is different? What if he expects more because he knows I read that stupid book? What if I can't lose myself like I did last time?

Then the worst thought of all hit her like a brick. What if it was beginner's luck?

She got to the bedroom door and paused there. He was half-reclined on the bed, a navy towel slung low around his hips and his hair still wet. Jen hadn't bitten her fingernails since she was a teenager, but she suddenly had the desperate urge to start again.

He stared at her for a while and she just leant against the door jam, nibbling her fingertips almost unconsciously.

"You know what it is that makes a woman sexy, Jen?" he asked eventually.

She shook her head.

"You can tell that she feels sexy."

Jen snorted. Yeah, and Angelina Jolie's body has nothing to do with her being sexy.

"Come here."

Somewhat reluctantly Jen made her way over to the bed, sitting down next to him where he patted the bed. She was frustrated and annoyed with herself for suddenly being so "in" her own head. What she'd loved about their night together – almost more than the orgasms, but not quite – was the way she'd been able to just stop thinking for once.

He grabbed her hand, stroked his fingers along the smooth skin of her wrist and then placed it over his groin. Pressed it into the hard, hot, heat hidden under the folds of the towel.

"This is what just imagining fucking you does to me. Does that make you feel sexy? Because it should."

Jen bit her bottom lip, trying to decide whether to share what was bothering her.

"Greg…I…I haven't read that whole chapter," she said hesitantly. "I don't think I even got up to page thirty-six."

He laughed. "It was page thirty-eight. And it's okay. I didn't expect you to study."

"I'm nervous still," she admitted, casting her eyes down. She remembered that it was exactly this anxiety that had ruined things between them the first time. When she'd knocked on his door, edgy and afraid. More than anything, more than her fear, she didn't want that to happen again.

"But I want you." She lifted her head to look him in the eyes. Trying to tell him without words that she'd been tight and hot with anticipation ever since he'd leaned over her in bed that morning. "I want to fuck you." She'd thought it would sound silly and clichéd – could hardly believe the words were leaving her mouth – but because she meant it and because desire had lowered her voice it sounded cool and sexy and she saw the light kindle his in eyes.

"Then let's do that."

She kept her place, sitting on the edge of the bed, but she leaned over him, touching her lips lightly to his. He lay still, just taking his hand from where it still pressed hers into his groin, raising it to her shoulder and running it down her arm as their kiss deepened.

Abruptly she pulled back, seeing his eyes open wide in puzzlement at the sudden halt.

"What?"

"Greg? Can we…?" she paused, not sure how to say what she needed to ask. It had just suddenly occurred to her that something was missing and she now knew what it was. "I mean could you…"

"What?" His eyebrows raised and he gave her a wicked smile.

"Can you take me out to dinner?"

A confused and vaguely disappointed look crossed his face and Jen suddenly realised he had thought she was going to ask him for something sexual.

"You're hungry?"

"No, it's just that we've never…gone on a date."

"Now?" He sounded annoyed. "It's a bit early. Can we finish what we're doing here first?"

"Of course!"

He crinkled his nose. "And then I think I need a nap. But after that, sure."

Satisfied, Jen nodded and put her attention to immediate matters at hand. Or underneath her hand, to be more precise.


--

House had taken her to his favourite Italian restaurant. It wasn't the most expensive place in town, but it was a cut above the average – it had dark leather booths, proper linen, low lighting and sparkling glassware. A good first-date place. He ordered an expensive merlot and they'd talked – a lot. He was a little surprised at how much she'd got him to share. She now knew broadly about his family, his college years and a sketchy outline of his career to date. He'd even told her a bit about the infarction and that inevitably led to talking about Stacy. But she hadn't pressed for details and he was impressed that she'd taken this long to even show the slightest curiosity about his leg. To him that meant she didn't think it was important – and that was important.

Inviting her for the weekend had been a fairly impulsive whim – a decision made more by his penis than his brain – and he hadn't expected to be enjoying the non-sex time with Jen so much. It had been a long while since he'd felt he could talk to someone this easily. Maybe it was because he felt she wasn't judging him and that he had nothing to prove to her. He had the level of hero-worship from her that his ego required because of the sex thing.

And she was too busy doubting herself to look for faults in him.

Logically, he knew something about all that wasn't quite healthy – Wilson certainly wouldn't approve – but hey, it was working for now. And if there was anything House was good at it was ignoring little warning signs in his relationships with other people. Funny that it was the exact opposite quality with his patients that made him such an excellent diagnostician.

He opened the door to his apartment and stepped back to let her in first, continuing their conversation from the cab about their meal.

"I told you the tiramisu was the best in town."

"And you were right," she agreed as she walked in, shrugging off her coat and toeing off her shoes.

"We should have got some take-out for breakfast."

She smiled at him. "Now that would be decadent."

Their eyes met and he saw the smoulder in hers. The afternoon had been very pleasant, but he hadn't been completely satisfied. She'd insisted on going down on him and hey, he wasn't about to refuse a good BJ, but his appetite had really been for more of the in-out, legs-wrapped-around-his-waist type of activity. But with a hangover and not being as young as he once was, she had pretty much wiped him out for the afternoon. Possibly seeing how tired he was, she'd politely refused his offer to reciprocate saying she owed him at least one from the last time, so he guessed – hoped – she'd already be in second gear. Besides, he'd been running his hand up and down the inside of her thigh under the table during dinner and had whispered a couple of obscene suggestions to her during dessert, enjoying watching the flush of embarrassment rise on her face in response.

"Kiss me." Her voice was a whisper and he was more than happy to oblige, thrilled that she seemed ready – eager even – to get down to business. His hangover had now all but disappeared, the combination of orgasm, nap and a couple of glasses of wine proving an effective treatment. He mentally filed that information away for future reference as he hung his cane on the cornice above the door and reached out to hold her face with one hand, leaning down to kiss her.

It didn't take long before her lips opened under his, inviting him into her mouth with a sweet sigh of surrender. He put one hand against the wall to steady himself, but resisted the temptation to push her against it, not wanting to bring back any reminders of his behaviour the previous night.

The kiss heated up quickly and he showed her with his tongue what he longed to do to her body. She responded, all the anxiety from earlier seemingly dissipated, unable to stop herself moaning into his mouth. He pulled away, breathless, and smiled at her up-turned face, swollen lips and flushed cheeks. He realised her neck was bent almost all the way back and he'd had to lean down quite a way to reach her mouth. Further than he remembered.

"Hey, when did you get so short?"

She kicked up a foot to show him she was no longer wearing her heels.

"Well, this is killing my neck. And my leg too." Not an admission he generally made. "Come here."

He grabbed her hand and limped over to the sofa, flopping down to recline on it and pulling her down on top of him. She giggled when he did, which from any other woman would have sounded girlish and silly, but from her he found it cute and charming. She fell into him, wriggling up until their faces were level, avoiding putting any of her weight onto his bad thigh, but without making it seem like she was doing so deliberately. Again, he was impressed by her nonchalance. Grateful even.

"Your beard is softer today," she said, rubbing his cheek lightly with her fingertips.

"It's longer. Didn't clip it today."

She nodded. "The skin on my chin is just going to have to get tougher."

"It will, just give it time. Like guitarists have to grow calluses on their fingers."

He was expecting her to laugh or make a crack about not wanting calluses on her face but instead a shadow crossed her eyes and she frowned.

"What?" he asked.

She shook her head and seemed to paste a smile back on.

"Nothing." She leaned down and touched her lips to his, a soft, gentle, lips-only kiss, then lifted up again to look into his eyes.

"Thank you for taking me out for dinner."

"You're welcome. Now demonstrate your gratitude properly."

He loved the cheeky grin she gave him in response, liking this relaxed, uninhibited version of Jen. Half a bottle of wine seemed to do the trick nicely, he thought, remembering that it had been several shots of whisky that had got her into his bed the first time.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked.

He tugged on her sweater. "Off."

Immediately she twisted around on the sofa, sitting up and pulling the sweater over her head. She had a silky black camisole underneath and what looked like a black lace bra.

"That too."

A little more hesitantly she pulled the camisole off, immediately leaning back down on him to kiss him again. He knew she was doing it on purpose, so he couldn't see her bare belly, so he pushed her away.

"No, jeans first."

She paused and he could just about see the doubts flicking through her mind, but just as he was about to get annoyed by her hesitation, she stood and undid them, pulling them all the way off to reveal a matching thong.

"Now that's appropriately grateful," he said approvingly.

"Sit up," she told him.

He did as she asked and she unbuttoned and pulled off the pastel blue cotton shirt he'd come to think of as his 'date shirt'. Not that it had had many airings recently. She then knelt down on the floor, sitting back on her heels, to pull off his runners and socks. The sight of her on the floor at his feet in black lingerie was entirely agreeable.

She looked up and smiled, putting her hands on his knees and pushing his legs apart so she could kneel up between them. She leant in and kissed his chest, flicking a tongue against one nipple as her hands sought the fastening of his jeans.

House lay his head back and closed his eyes, letting her hands and mouth roam over him and tug down his zipper. He raised his hips to help her pull the jeans off, his boxers going with them. He was only half-hard but a long firm lick from the base to the head of his shaft soon had that problem fixed. He began to chuckle when her mouth took him in.

She looked up at him, letting him slip out of her mouth, a puzzled and slightly hurt expression on her face at his laughter.

"You may not have got all the way through that chapter, but I'm guessing you did cover the bit on oral sex?"

She didn't have to say anything – the flush on her cheeks told him everything.

"I thought…I just…"

He could hear her defensiveness and felt a little bad for teasing her.

"It's okay. You were doing a very good job. You did a very good job before you read up on it too. Come here."

He put his hands on the top of her arms and pulled, getting her to rise and sit straddling him on the sofa, one knee on either side of his hips. He pulled her head to him to kiss her, trying to let her know that he'd really only been teasing.

She pulled back and gave him an earnest look.

"I can't help it you know," she said quietly. "This is who I am. When I was a kid if I didn't know something my parents always told me to go look it up in a book. I grew up thinking that I could always find answers in books. Then as I grew older and found that I didn't always find what I was looking for, I decided to dig even deeper – trying to find the answers in the words themselves. Matt made it easy, he enabled it, but it took me a while to realise that I've basically been hiding from the world for the past twelve years in libraries all around the world. I guess when I'm uncertain I go back to books. They just feel…safe."

House just nodded. Further personal revelations weren't necessarily on the menu for him that night, but he was touched that she'd shared something private with him.

"I understand," he said, looking deep into her honey-brown eyes. "And I'm flattered. That you think I'm worth studying for."

"You are definitely worth studying for and I'm sure there's more you can teach me. I want to get an A."

"Teacher, hey? Well I want to get some ass, so I guess that works out well for both of us."

She laughed, stopping with an abruptly drawn breath when his hand wiggled down her panties.

"You should have taken these off before you sat up here," he said, leaning in to kiss her neck. But she didn't give him a chance, standing up instantly to whip down her thong and toss it across the room. It landed, rather amusingly he thought, on the lamp in the corner.

"More," she demanded, resuming her previous position.

"Yes ma'am." He applied his lips to her neck, having discovered that that spot seemed to be a particularly sensitive one for her, and his hand delved between her thighs again, pleased to find that – as he had suspected – she was already plump and wet.

"You know, I used to do a lot of tutoring in med school, but I don't remember it ever being quite this…moist."

She ignored his wisecrack, her hands raked up and down his chest, the scratch of her fingernails telling him when he found exactly the right spot and rhythm. He knew she'd missed out that afternoon and he knew there was still more to come that night, so he was happy to let this be quick and all about getting her off. He used his other hand to slip a couple of fingers inside her and let her ride them, setting her own pace. He took his mouth from her for a moment to watch and couldn't deny that it was an incredibly arousing sight watching her astride him, losing herself in the feelings washing over her. He felt a stab of anger at her previous boyfriend. How could anyone have let this bundle of sexual energy go to waste? Or worse – make her think that she wasn't one of the sexiest women it had ever been his pleasure to bed?

He felt her knees dig into his hips and her thigh muscles tighten. Her breath hitched and her fingers dug into his shoulders, little cries coming from her as if she was frightened of letting them out, unable to take the last step that would launch her over the edge.

He leant into her ear, sucking on her earlobe briefly before whispering to her. "Come for me, Jen. You look so hot, your body's so tight and wet. I want to hear you come. Don't hold it in."

"Oh! God, Greg, yes…I'm gonna come…you're making me…ah!"

She shuddered and threw her head back, arching her body into his hands as she bucked with the convulsions wracking her body.

"Ah…ah…ah…stop, no stop, I can't…"

He stopped rubbing against her once she became too sensitive and she fell forward on to him, collapsing against his chest, accidentally twisting his wrist so that he had to pull his fingers out of her abruptly.

Her head rested on his shoulder, breathing in gasps, her body still shuddering intermittently as the final waves of pleasure subsided.

"Good girl," he whispered to her, stroking his hands over her back.

"Oh, I don't know how you do that," she said, still breathless, "but I want you to keep doing it."

He grinned, wondering if he'd ever get sick of hearing her praise his skills as a lover.

He'd have given anything to have wrapped her arms and legs around him, risen from the sofa and carried her into the bedroom, but he knew there was no way he could. The thought made him angry, briefly, but he decided to brush it away, not wanting it to spoil the delights ahead.

"Shall we move into the bedroom? That was only first course. There's more to come."

"There's you to come." She giggled, thrusting her hips in an unnecessary reminder to him that his erection was still pressed between their bodies.

"Ha ha. You're hilarious. And correct. Come on, move." He slapped her butt.

They made their way up the corridor pausing halfway to kiss again, House surprised by his need to have his hands on her at all times and the fact that the distance between the sofa and the bed was too long between kisses.

Once they reached the bed, he lay down and Jen tentatively put her hand around him, squeezing and pulling gently, leaning in for yet another deep kiss. He let her go for a while before pulling her hands away.

"Ah, thanks but no more, I have other plans for that."

"Really?" she asked, her voice low and throaty. She sat up and took off her bra, the final piece of clothing between them, bringing one of his hands to grasp one breast and leaning over to lower the other to his mouth. He was definitely a breast man, and hers had to be some of the finest he'd ever seen, so it was no difficulty to comply with her wishes.

He suckled hard on the nipple she offered, pinching and gently twisting the other between his fingers, delighting in the gasp he provoked. He switched his attentions between both her breasts, using his mouth and fingers, his other hand snaking downward to cup her ass as she leaned over him.

"I don't know what's got into you Jennifer Edwards, but I like it," he said. "So far you're looking at a very positive report card." She didn't know it yet, but despite the lack of experience she was a natural; sexy, sensual, and if she managed to overcome those insecurities about her body he'd bet she'd be an uninhibited firecracker in bed.

She flushed at his comment, looking almost embarrassed, but he pulled her body down again until he could kiss her wetly, erasing her mind of any such thoughts. As she moved down his body she arched her back, rubbing her wet centre against him. He thought she was going to push down onto him, but instead she pushed against him, back and forward, his shaft between her lips. And from the look on her face, it felt very good indeed.

He let her use him for her pleasure until he couldn't bear the pressure building inside him anymore. Besides, she'd already had a turn, and while he was happy to give her another one, he needed this first.

"Ah, I can't wait any longer, Jen, I want to be inside you."

She nodded and moved off him far enough to let him reach for a condom in the bedside table and sheath himself, kissing and nipping his back, neck, shoulders, whatever skin was available to her.

"I want to eat you alive," she murmured.

He chuckled. "Later, my little sexpot, I might just let you do that. Flip over."

She lay back and he positioned himself between her thighs, his hands on her thighs encouraging her to spread as wide as she could. Last time he'd gone gently, knowing it had been a while since she'd last had sex and wanting her to be comfortable. This time he didn't think he could manage it.

He positioned at her entrance and then sank into her in one smooth thrust, both of them gasping out loud at the sensation. He gave her a moment, letting her body adjust, then began moving, knowing that he would have liked to make it last a long time – but it probably wasn't going to. Especially not when she raised her knees and locked her ankles around his back, allowing him even deeper reach into her.

He looked down to where their bodies merged, lifting his torso higher so he could clearly see himself pumping into her and emerging again, wet and glistening. The sight was intoxicating and he couldn't help pulling almost all the way out and plunging back in again over and over, thinking his cock had never looked longer or more powerful. It suddenly occurred to him – for the first time in his life – exactly how intimate it was to have sex with someone. Another person let him inside their body, their most precious and personal possession. Jen was letting him do it now, and they were connected, in the most primal and profound way they could be.

He looked up and saw she had followed his gaze, her eyes filled with wonder and lust, watching as he possessed her. Each time he left her body she drew in a breath – anticipation? loss? he didn't know – and when he pushed into her again she made a little noise in the back of her throat, a whimper of pure pleasure. He liked the fact that she was getting off on the sight as much as he was.

Suddenly she looked up and met his eyes and he felt that same sensation he'd felt back in the bar when he'd first met her. A sense that he could lose himself in her eyes, that there was something important there, something he needed to know. She smiled and he couldn't help smiling back, sure he looked completely goofy, but he held her gaze as he continued to move.

Jen's eyes didn't waver from his and when they filled with tears he should have been surprised or even irritated but he wasn't. Without wanting to examine it too closely, he had a sense he understood. She blinked and one tear rolled down the side of her face. He leaned down and licked its salty trail, kissing her temple and pressing his lips lightly to her eyelashes.

"Greg, oh Greg," she whispered like a mantra, so quietly he almost didn't hear.

He could feel the pressure building in his balls, knew that he wanted to bury himself even deeper inside. He lifted his body up again, hooking one hand behind her right thigh, pushing her knee up to her chest. She groaned as he sank deeper but at that point, even if she was uncomfortable, he knew he couldn't stop.

A few more thrusts and he'd be there…and then suddenly he was. He felt as if his spine might break with the intensity of his orgasm, ripped from him in jagged, wretched gasps.

"Christ, Jen!"

He collapsed on her and then rolled off, trying to bring his breathing under control, feeling as if he'd run a marathon.

"Shhh, you're alright." She wrapped her arms around him and her voice whispered comforting nonsense into his ear.

"God you are going to be the death of me," he said eventually, still breathing heavily. "Or the saviour. At this point I'm not really sure which."