A/N: Okay maybe I will write a few more chapters.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, just borrowing for my own entertainment.
His gruff voice has you squeezing your legs together as you recall the talent of his quick witted tongue.
It's been a few days since the incident. You've tackled a few cases and things have seemed to get back to normal.
Normalcy.
It's what you're desperately trying to achieve after having sex with your much older boss. Who has been walking around like nothing has happened between the two of you. Chase and Foreman haven't picked up on it but Wilson has noticed the subtle looks you send House when you think no one's looking.
Looks that have you devouring him. Your eyes graze the sinewy knot of muscle that peeks out from underneath his sleeve. Sometimes you think he flexes for you when he catches your wandering eye.
His scent is overwhelming as he bends over your shoulder to read the piece of mail addressed to him in your hands. Its strong and surprisingly soft, like Dove soap with the sharp accent of Tide detergent thrown in for good measure.
He can barely look you in the eye now, let alone speak full sentences. Instead he barks off orders, tasks that insure you'll be gone for most of the day. You do them because you can't refuse him not just because he's your boss.
It takes you longer than normal to do them but you get them done. Then sit in the conference room and wait for him to give you another task. You take out your lap top to attempt some work, but your mind keeps drifting off.
The thoughts you have bring a rosy blush to your cheeks. Your lips part as you take an unsteady breath and try to focus on the screen in front of you instead of the feeling of his long nimble hands grasping your thighs. Running sensual licks along their smooth lengths. You can still feel the warmth of his breath as he paused to look at you. Take in your disheveled appearance, the way your curls fell in unruly waves, the glazed sexual look in your eyes.
You shake your head trying to rid yourself of these thoughts.
It doesn't help.
However the crackling of the shades that were drawn, due to his bad mood, bring you out of your reverie.
He limps into the room quietly. Knuckles a clean white as he grips the smooth handle of his cane. He goes over to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup of the warm almond brown liquid. It's just the way he likes it. You know this by the grunt of approval he makes; he swivels around to face you.
You stare intently at the screen of your lap top as he stands behind you.
"That should probably never happen again." He says finally, taking another sip from his red cup.
You hold your breath and slowly turn around removing your reading glasses from your eyes.
"Do you want it to happen again?" He holds your stare. You can tell he's choosing his words carefully. Maybe he's trying to spare your feelings and let you down easy. On the other hand that doesn't sound like him at all.
His answer never comes as Chase and Foreman bound into the room, with the latest round of test results.
After solving the case the boys invite you out for drinks. You go home and then meet them at the bar. They whistle as you walk towards them, decked out in tight low rider jeans and a slim cashmere sweater with a deep V-neck you feel sexy. Chase quickly orders you a beer as you sit next to him.
"You look nice." He offers and his eyes follow your form. You smile back politely and inform the pair that they both look handsome. An hour later you're laughing at Chase's poor attempts to pick up a single grad student. Foreman shakes his head and laughs as he comes back without her number.
"It's a wonder how you got Cameron to sleep with you." He chuckles and brings his drink to his mouth.
"I was stoned." You answer and pat him on his back.
"You liked it." He teases and nudges you playfully. A smile forms on your lips as you find yourself enjoying the harmless banter.
"Hey look who's here." Foreman says nodding to the door where a sullen House and Wilson have just walked through. Your heart stops as you watch him take a booth with his friend. He's wearing a leather jacket with one of his old band T-shirts underneath it. A pair of lime green and grey Nike Court Force Low's peer out from under his well worn jeans. He looks...hot. There's no other word to describe him.
The boys groan and you stifle a smile as Wilson and House grab their menus. Wilson says something amusing and he lets out a genuine smile and his eyes glance around the bar. He finally spots your group and you quickly avert your gaze as Chase and Foreman lift their cold frothy mugs to him.
A hello. House nods and returns his attention to Wilson.
Half an hour passes and you find your eyes drifting over to their booth. House has ordered a burger and a soda. It arrives and he grabs the ketchup bottle and bangs on the end of it lightly. Allowing the thick red liquid to drip slowly onto the burger. Wilson gets up to use the bathroom and you take this as your opportunity.
Foreman and Chase won't mind. They've been chatting up some grad students for the past fifteen minutes and have seemed to forgotten your presence.
You stand on wobbly heels and walk over to his booth. A sigh escapes your lips as you slide into the booth trapping him.
He looks over at you and continues to chew, grabbing a napkin to wipe the dab of ketchup that has escaped the clutches of the lettuce and cheese.
"What?" He asks with his mouth full.
"Why aren't you having a reuben?" You ask, resting your hands on top of the table. You want to smack your head in frustration. That's the best you can come up with?
"They make a mean burger." He explains plainly. He lifts it back up to his mouth and takes another bite. It's intoxicating sitting so close to him. You forget about the bedroom eyes Chase has been making at you. He's an amateur compared to House.
There's about a quarter of his meal left when he drops it onto his plate and brings his arm behind you. Your eyes fall to his chest and you feel that familiar pull between your thighs as you take in its muscular build. It's not to obvious but enough to give off an effortless sense of masculinity. You're tiny compared to him.
His thigh is firm beneath your hesitant fingertips. They dance lightly on the denim fabric separating you from his skin but you can feel the warm being emitted.
"You never answered my question." You say softly. He looks over at you lets out a breath.
"I want it to happen again." That's all the invite you need and your move in for a kiss. His hands tangle through your hair as he kisses you with determination. His tongue is thorough as it sweeps with your own and he draws you closer by the waist. A gasp is swallowed in his mouth as his hands slip into your jeans, stroking the identical dimples on the top of your bum.
In less then a minute he has you practically melting in his arms. You don't care that you're in a crowded bar, your colleagues are a few feet away, and that Wilson can show up at any moment. He pulls away abruptly. He can't meet your gaze again. He won't be touching you again that night.
So you stand and walk back to the boys. You grab your jacket and bid them a goodnight.
You'll just finish what he started when you get home.