A/N-Thanks all for the favorites and follows, and to the reviewers: IWuvHouse, freeasabird14, OldSFfan, Addie, JLCH, A. Heiden, KiwiClare, jaybe61, lenasti16, CaptainK8, Woods, Huddy Fan, Suzieqlondon, ikissedtheLaurie, azes, Abby, Bere, grouchysnarky, jayfukae, byte size, Vast Difference, RochelleRene and the Guests.

-Breathe-

The moment Cuddy's door opened, he accused, "I'm not one of your girl friends."

"Okay?" she questioned.

"Was that supposed to be funny, or are you just that confused about the nature of this…this?" he asked while he stepped into her foyer. As she was closing the door, he circled behind her and came closer, keeping her between him and the entrance.

"What this?" she asked, agitated that he was being so loud, abrupt and pushy when she had been so relaxed a few seconds earlier. She reached up, put her fingertips against the center of his chest and pressed against him until he took a step back. "It's too early in the morning for a personal space invasion," she warned before she continued. Once she had a little more room, she planted one hand on her hip and started rubbing her forehead with the other, asking, "Can't we have just one normal conversation?"

"Not today. I'm not going to that hotel."

"All you had to do was call or text to tell me that. Even when I try to make things easy for you, you complicate them. This is not a problem worth calling in the troops for."

"You tried to lead me there under false pretenses."

"I did?"

"Yes. And I'm not going."

"Let's take care of this right now then," she said with frustration. She left the room determinedly, returning mid-phone call. As soon as she ended the call, she asked House, "There. Reservation canceled. Are we happy?"

"No, we're not happy. I need to make sure you understand a few things."

"This'll be rich," she said, folding her arms. "I'm listening."

"I'm not like him," House said, pointing back at Cuddy's new room when he saw Austin prepping for her typical Saturday morning yoga session.

She whispered, "And I didn't invite him to spend the weekend with me."

"I'm not one of your gal pals. I'm not safe. I will never be a safe option for you."

"What makes you think that I've ever seen you as safe? You're the opposite of safe. The risk that lingers under the surface is probably part of why you're so…addictive."

Refusing to let his surprise at her answer deter him, he added, "I called the Plaza…"

"And?"

"He'd be a better choice for your women's weekend," House said, nodding toward the door where Austin was peering out at them.

She nodded slowly as she suddenly realized what he was so upset about. "Oh, the Spa thing? That's why you're upset?"

"You probably should have mentioned the nature of the trip."

"Because you assumed that you and I were going there for…," she gestured between the two of them, "other reasons?"

"Don't play innocent, Cuddy. You guided me right to that assumption."

"Still…you agreed to go under those circumstances."

"Don't turn this around. You wanted to symbolically geld me."

She rolled her eyes at the suggestion. "You're being ridiculous." Shaking her head, she suggested, "You never stopped to consider that maybe I was going to that hotel for the same reasons as you."

"You're screwing with me. You already knew which hotel you were going to…there are plenty of other hotels in the area, but you listed that specific one. The only reason you'd have a specific one in mind is if you wanted to go there for an event that was being held at that location."

"Or I have an account there, and I don't have an account at any other local hotels."

"Why would you need an account at a hotel so close to where you live?" he said, certain that he'd dealt the winning blow.

"It's a great place to put up family, colleagues and friends when they visit if I'm not inviting them to stay in my home. Also, once or twice I may have led you to believe that I was attending a conference when, in reality, I was spending two days at the Plaza. If you think I might make you present at a conference, you always disappear. It's the best way for me to make sure I'll have peace and quiet." His face was alarmingly blank as he couldn't seem to find any real fault in her reasoning. Looking down at the clock on her phone, she said, "I have my yoga class now."

"He can wait."

"I wanted to talk about this you-and-me thing the other night, and you chose not to say a word. You sat with your drink and silence, and now you decide you want to talk about it, and I'm supposed to drop everything?"

"You said you're embracing acceptance. Accept that I'm ready to talk now."

"Acceptance doesn't mean being a doormat. I'm going to take my class. If you want to have this conversation, I'll be happy to have it after Austin leaves and we can talk in private."

"You want me to stand here and wait?"

"If you really want to stand here by the door, that's up to you. But there's coffee in the kitchen and I think I still have chairs out there if you want to sit down. Or you can come back in an hour. Or…you can decide that the answers to your questions aren't worth waiting an hour for. It's up to you." She took a few steps away and turned back for just a moment, adding, "Did you know that one of the perks for rewards club members at the Plaza is automatic access to certain events that are held at the hotel whenever you book a room? So a person wouldn't even need to specifically register for those special events to be included."

She continued down the hall to her class as he stood in her entryway, pondering the last few minutes. Glancing in her living room, he saw an overnight bag in front of the sofa, already packed and waiting. The fact that the bag was ready to go hours before it was time to leave made him wonder if she had been looking forward to their time together.

He waited almost the full hour before he decided he couldn't wait any longer. Leaving his cane propped in the corner of the room near the door, he kicked off his sneakers and walked in while Cuddy and Austin were finishing. She was on the mat near the center of the room, breathing with deep, even breaths that were so peaceful that House almost felt a calmness himself just from watching her. Austin moved around her, softly touching a few places along her body for some reason that House didn't fully understand.

She was completely relaxed around her instructor. As much as part of House wanted to be able to be so much closer to her, he never wanted his presence to be something so meaningless or ordinary. Closeness between the two of them had always been relevant. His own words echoed in his head as he remembered that he didn't want her to think he was a safe choice. They weren't safe together. They were tense, exciting, enticing…never safe.

Austin gestured for House to join them, breaking House's depth of thought and bringing him back to the moment. Cautiously, House moved closer, sitting on the floor next to the spot where Cuddy was meditating. The younger man seemed hopeful that House was in search of the peace he could find through meditation. Austin squatted down to eye-level and put his hand firmly on House's shoulder to try to put him at ease, but it had the opposite effect. Completely unthwarted by House's glare at the offending hand or his rigid, displeased body language, Austin kept his spot on House's shoulder and patiently waited for relaxation to come. "Try to take a few full breaths to put yourself at ease," Austin said quietly so as to not disturb Cuddy.

Eyes still closed, Cuddy actually reached up and grabbed Austin's wrist, gently removing his hand from House's shoulder. When House looked at her, he saw her shaking her head at Austin. House wondered if she had been peeking, or if she just sensed his discomfort, but he was amused that she knew him well enough to react as she did.

"Thanks. It was a great session," Cuddy said to her instructor, still with her eyes closed.

Austin reached over, touching Cuddy's forearm as he said goodbye. House wondered why in the hell this guy had to touch everything. They exchanged a few words, the exact conversation completely irrelevant to House as he again observed, without any hint of envy, the way Cuddy reacted so indifferently to the younger man. Austin stood and left, and House and Cuddy were there alone.

"So which was it, Cuddy?" House asked as he heard the front door close. "You wanted to go the Plaza for a manicure or sex?"

She sat up, placing her feet on the ground and loosely hugging her knees. "Do you really think I'd want to take you along for a manicure? Do you actually believe that I think you'd have fun doing that?"

"I don't know."

"I know you better than that. If I wanted to attend the spa weekend, I would have gone alone."

"So it was about sex," he nodded, relieved to learn the truth of her intentions, and simultaneously completely disappointed that his diagnosis of the situation had failed so miserably.

"I didn't really have a plan. I thought you and I could go hang out together. If one thing led to another…great. If it didn't, no big deal."

"Is this a beneficial friendship sort of thing?"

She lulled her head back, gazing generally toward the ceiling, and sighed. "We've talked about how we're different. Just because we're different doesn't mean we shouldn't get to enjoy some of the things normal people enjoy. I was open to the possibility."

His finger pressed against the slightly tacky texture of the yoga mat beneath him as he thought about her suggestion. He finally answered, "You know what this is…"

"I'm not trying to lull you into a relationship."

"And I wasn't suggesting that. This is about trying to fill a void."

She closed her eyes, the calm leaving her voice as she responded, "Not everything is about that baby, House. My life is about more than that. I am about more than that."

"I wasn't saying that either," he answered, sounding much more relaxed than she did. "But I think what happened got to you. It hurt like hell. And you can't just wave a magic yoga stick and decide it didn't hurt like hell. That's not how it works."

With a quick and somber chuckle, she responded, "Everyone I know is trying to fill a void. We're all hurt or disappointed or angry. We've all experienced loss or been deprived or deceived or wounded. No one I know is unscathed. As much as I've embraced my own abnormalcy, that's one way I'm completely ordinary. We're all fucked up. And we all want to find a way to feel better. But that's not what this is about."

"Then what is?"

"If our friendship had a physical aspect to it, I think that would be nice. I don't expect you to attend graduations or award ceremonies, remember anniversaries, do dishes, or tell me I look pretty. I don't need those things. We could just be as we are…and add that aspect. It seemed…worth exploring. We're both single, responsible. I like being around you. I'm attracted to you. And you're right, you aren't safe. But I like that. I think we'd have fun. I wasn't planning anything, I was simply open to whatever might happen."

"I guess I should thank your scooter-loving yoga instructor for this newfound openness to the possibility of things happening." House stated, lightly.

"Do you want to know why I started private classes?" He didn't answer, but looked at her with focus and interest, so she continued. "I'm good at yoga. I'm good at the positions, at form, technique and mechanics. I liked the workout, the flexibility, all of those physical benefits. The week before I started redecorating, I was at my class and the instructor pulled me aside. She told me she was concerned about my practice because I was skipping out on the Savasana at the end. That's the relaxation and meditation that you usually close with. She said that I was only enjoying half of what the class had to offer. And it's true, I was. I'd finish the workout and immediately I was thinking about whatever was next. Even when I stayed and finished the class, I was already mentally checked out when I was supposed to be letting my mind be clear. Honestly, I found it really, really hard to lie down and do nothing. That night after everything happened with Becca and after you left, the conversation with the instructor came back to me and I decided I really needed to do this. I needed to find acceptance, clear my mind, focus."

"So you had that instructor killed?" he said, amused.

"I went back to see her again, and she suggested Austin. I needed someone to help me find ways to get to that state. He's really good at influencing and directing without interfering. That's why he was touching you, he was bringing your focus to a specific point that he wanted you to relax. That's what he does. He'll bring my attention to a tense spot on my body or help me move into better alignment."

"There are plenty of better ways to relax."

"It helps," she answered. As he scoffed, she countered, "I can show you."

"I'm not a yoga kinda guy."

"Studies show that people who regularly engage in restorative yoga actually have better cognitive functioning, brain connectivity and logical problem solving abilities. It's all tied into resting state brain functions, and if you think about it, you already do that. You bounce your ball, or sit in the corner and paint the edges of this room…you clear your brain so you can think. Now if you could truly clear your mind once in a while, maybe you could reach that state more quickly and easily."

"Is Austin going to return to feel me up?" he asked with a smirk.

"I'm sure he'd love the chance, but he had other classes. I can show you. I'm not an expert, but you'll get the general idea." He sneered, but she argued, "Just try it. It might help me to see things from the other perspective."

"I don't think I'm ready to stand on my head and chant."

"You lie on your back," she said, standing and stretching.

He was curious enough to allow it. She'd made a good point about clearing the mind, but mostly he thought it would be amusing and give him some more insight into her world. After she was done stretching, she said to him, "Now try to relax. Take a few full breaths and release your body into the floor."

She gave a few simple, practical instructions as they went along. The first time he felt her touch him, it was so subtle that it could have almost gone unnoticed. It was just the slightest brush of her fingers at the top of his shoulder and a quick word to remind him to ease the tension there and slightly shift his alignment. She moved with whisper-quiet steps to his legs, explaining how to roll them slightly outward so his body could be more comfortable.

When most of his body was aligned the way she'd wanted it, she lifted his wrist and moved it out to the side, creating space between his body and outstretched arm. She sat next to him, kneeling on the floor with her feet under her in that space she'd created. As she turned the arm that she'd moved so his palm was facing up, he could feel her leg against his hip and the spot where her foot grazed him. While she let go of his hand after it was positioned properly, her thumb brushed over the center of his palm.

She leaned across his torso, the warmth and closeness of her amplified by its unfamiliarity and the heightened awareness that came from being so focused on that moment. She directed him to be mindful of his body and his breath, and in being mindful of those things, he was all the more aware of the ways she was making him feel differently. Moving his other hand into place, she let go with the same almost affectionate brush of her thumb against his palm, and while she was still leaning over him, he opened his eyes.

Immediately she noticed him looking at her, and she examined his face for signs of discomfort, but found the emotionless gaze of a person who was actually relaxing. "You can move if you need to. The most important thing is that you're comfortable," she said.

He shook his head, watching how, for some reason, putting him at ease seemed to make her feel more at ease as well. "Is that it?" he asked.

"Now we breathe."

"I cheated. I've been breathing the whole time."

She smiled, undisturbed by the joke and replying, "Take slow, deep breaths. When you breathe in, imagine the air filling your abdomen instead of your lungs." He opened his mouth to offer a physiological argument for her suggestion, but she put a hand on his chest and said, "I know where your lungs are, but breathe so fully with your body that it lifts your diaphragm."

She took a demonstratively deep breath, and her hand moved down his chest to his abdomen. "Lift my hand as you inhale," she instructed. Reluctance appeared in the form of a frown, and she tilted her head, asking, "You've already gone this far…are you really going to draw the line at breathing?"

He considered the question for a moment before he finally breathed in as instructed, feeling the subtle but palpable weight of her hand on his stomach. Nodding her encouragement, she left that hand in place and signaled to him to repeat his actions again. "Make sure to exhale slowly, don't rush. The next time you exhale, pause for a moment at the end. You don't have to hold your breath, just suspend it. Wait a second or two before you begin to inhale again."

She began breathing with him, which was an oddly intimate experience. They were watching each other, their bodies both rising and falling with a wavelike, shared rhythm. It was a sensation that was both soothing and hyperaware. Her eyes stayed trained on his face, refusing to let go of the gaze that seemed unexpectedly natural. He knew she was watching his body, that her peripheral vision was keenly aware of his posture and alignment, and her hand was monitoring the rise and fall of his abdomen. Her focus was entirely on him.

He was, by nature, a man of very singular focus. He could entertain many ideas and tasks, but when his attention was on one thing, it was intense, undeterred and total. Cuddy, on the other hand, was a multi-tasker. In her way, she was an equally intense person, but her focus was, often by necessity, spread across many different things. He'd occupied most of her focus once or twice before, but usually it was because her degree of anger was such that other important tasks were momentarily forgotten, or because whatever figurative fire he'd set took precedence over everything else she needed to monitor. This moment of pseudo-meditation was entirely different from the focus he'd experienced from her before.

She'd been practicing this for weeks, learning to use her physical behavior to influence her mental state, and she'd become good at it. It was obvious her body was releasing the noisy clutter of the outside world, and she was just existing right there with him. She was completely in tune with him, feeling his breath and observing the subtleties of one of the activities most basic to a human being's survival: respiration.

As his mind suddenly recognized the near thoughtless state it had reached, it resisted. Immediately he began to notice things that should have worried him. She was close, he could feel several points of shared contact, and her eyes weren't just on him, she was seeing him. His cautious, conscious mind warned him that he should not feel at ease, asking, what makes her different? He had no answer for that question except to acknowledge that she simply was different.

She seemed to sense the resurfacing stress, although he wasn't sure what made it clear to her. She removed her palm from his abdomen, resting the heel of her hand at the joining of his collarbones as her finger touched the rough scruff that reached down his neck. She calmly added, "Relax your jaw, throat and neck. Don't let your breath get caught there. That's a really common place for people to hang on to tension even when they're trying to relax." After studying his face again, she asked, "Do you want to stop?"

His brow furrowed at the question that required a conscious response. "Pretty sure I can handle breathing," he said, his voice rumbling through the point of contact between the top of his chest and the bottom of her hand.

"Okay. I'll keep going. I can see the tension in your jaw. Try to release it," she suggested.

His jaw didn't relax even after she prompted him again, his mind obviously engaged. She leaned closer, approaching on instinct alone. The rhythmic breath he'd found quickened as she neared. In any normal circumstance, he wouldn't think she'd notice this small change, but she'd been watching him so intently that he was certain she was seeing everything. Her lips pressed softly against the back corner of his cheek in front of his ear. Even though it didn't really make him relax, she'd called enough attention to that spot that he actually let go of the tight clench of his jaw.

Of course kissing him would have been completely inappropriate had she actually been his instructor, but she wasn't, and like every other interaction between them, this particular one didn't fall into a neat relationship category. Even at work, where the nature and hierarchy between them was actually written down on paper and specific guidelines for their interactions were defined by Human Resource managers and lawyers, they both operated outside of those carefully set rules and regulations.

She sat back up, returning her hand to his stomach as she tried to feel the rise and fall of his abdomen again. Unexpectedly, he propped himself up on his elbows, remaining otherwise reclined. Cuddy started to withdraw her touch, but he stopped her, trapping her hand against his stomach with his forearm. He had to ask the one question she hadn't answered, the question that had bothered him most of all. "If it wasn't about attending the spa thing…why did you want to go to a hotel?"

Shrugging and shaking her head, her eyes dropped from his as she answered, "I just thought it would keep things…separate."

"So you think you can have sex with me on Saturday night at a hotel, and then Monday morning conveniently pretend it wasn't me inside you a couple of days earlier?"

She cringed slightly at his directness, but then returned her focus to him, "No, I can't. But I don't need to pretend that."

"Then what's the point?"

"I thought you could. I thought you could have sex with me on a Saturday night and then pretend it wasn't me by Monday morning. I actually thought…maybe you'd prefer it that way."

"Geography isn't going to disguise the fact that I'm me and you're you. If I wanted to have sex with a stranger, I'd just have sex with a stranger," he explained.

"How will we know which visits are professional or social and which are more…sexual?"

"I'm thinking degrees of undress and the presence of actual sexual acts might help us differentiate."

Considering his answer flippant, she continued, "It's a legitimate question. I'm trying to avoid uncomfortable moments where one of us has one idea about the evening and the other one just wants to hang out."

"I think we'd manage to figure it out. You said you wanted to see if something would happen naturally. Scheduling a trip to a hotel isn't a natural progression. It's a specific decision."

"It's too late for something to happen naturally," she said with a sort of amused disappointment. "Now it's become a whole thing."

"That's the problem with allowing things to happen naturally," he mused. "You can't really force them. But the good thing is that sometimes things that never seem like they'd really lead to something…actually do. Like meditation. I never would have thought that something so incredibly boring could be a turn on. But I know from experience. I'm kind of an expert on the whole thing."

"You're an expert?"

"I am. Try to relax your jaw, lots of people forget to relax that whole area," House suggested, projecting the impartation of sage advice, "You look tense."

She narrowed her eyes and pulled up one corner of her mouth into a disbelieving and suspicious non-smile, but the look slipped from her face when he lifted himself higher, bracing himself on his hands instead of his elbows. "I can try to make you aware of places where you're keeping tension," he offered, leaning across her body before barely kissing her jaw just as she had done to him earlier. "Here, too," he added as he kissed down her neck until his lips found the pulse that was pinging with an increasingly obvious beat.

Her body shifted closer to him as she savored the type of touch that she'd been craving from him. He backed away unexpectedly, shaking his head as he looked her over with a look of disapproval. "What?" she asked, already with a tone of self-defense.

"It's just that you're really, really tense. And it's going to take a long time to point out all of the places on your body where you're holding the tension." He offered a quick but playfully suggestive look before he added, "Fortunately for you, I have the whole day free, and your well-being is my top priority." He sat up, reaching brazenly for the hem of her shirt as he began to pull it up over her head. As he tossed it aside, he explained, "It's easier to see the tension this way."

"Am I going to be able to afford this all day event?" she joked.

"There's no charge. I've reached such a high spiritual plane that I'm above money and material possessions. But…to be fair, if you see any areas of stiffness or rigidity on me…feel free to kiss them for as long as necessary until they're completely relaxed."

She attempted a disbelieving glare that was softened by her smile. His mood was only momentarily light before it shifted back to the more serious opportunity before him. He tightened his arm around her and brought her closer, rolling her over his body and onto her back on the mat on the floor. He pulled the tight, bright pink sports bra she'd been wearing up over her head, but when she tried to pull her arms through, his hand grasped the extra fabric and tightened the bra around her wrists, using it to temporarily hold her hands against the mat above her head.

Noting a hint of concern on her face, he lowered his body closer to hers, and said, "Breathe."

She was, at that moment, acutely aware of what he had been insisting on earlier: he was not a safe choice. She trusted him, but there was something about him that was always unpredictable and risky. She craved it, feared it, and was drawn to it. Seeking some sign of reassurance, she lifted her head, her soft lips meeting his in a tentative way that very quickly became an indication of mutual desire as they sought the kiss they'd both been imagining in their minds for weeks. It was quick though, over too soon as House pulled away and reminded her, "Are you breathing with me?"

Nodding, she returned to the proper pattern and form of breath. His one side was on the ground next to her, keeping a lot of his weight off her body, but he was still positioned partially over her. One of his hands still restrained her wrists with her own clothing, but the other moved to the center of her chest between her breasts. With one finger, he followed the shape of her body to the curve of her breast, moving in a continuous and smooth progression to her nipple. She looked down between them, waiting with impatient alertness as he circled closer. He looked at the flutter in her left breast that resulted from the pounding of her heart below, seeing the physical display of her anticipation. He flicked at her nipple with the tip of his tongue, taking his time with the breasts that were perfectly displayed before him because of her somewhat vulnerable position.

He was watching her, relishing the desire that pulsed through her. His fingers ran down the center of her body and over her belly button before they wiggled under the band of her yoga pants. Her eyes closed as her back arched slightly. The sight of him watching her watching him had become a bit too intense. This moment had been avoided, denied and feared for as long as it had been fantasized about, hoped for and desired.

His fingers wiggled again to move beneath the band of her panties, and continued until his finger first found the slick spot at the top of her slit. He moved carefully lower, pressing down a few times against her clit as he heard a hissing sound as she gasped sharply through her teeth. He slid two of his fingers lower and began rolling her clit between them as the tip of his finger pressed against her opening.

He could feel the throbbing of her sex beating in time with the pulse he could see fluttering in her breast. She could feel the hardness of his full erection against the outside of her thigh, relieved and even more turned on by the fact that he was so aroused already. The desire to touch him, to make him feel a little bit of the excitement and longing that she was feeling, was the only desire that could compete with her need for him to keep pleasing her.

He slid two fingers inside her, feeling the tight grip of her muscles. He watched her breasts shift as she put her feet flat on the ground to lift her pelvis against his hand. He pressed the heel of his hand against her clit as he moved his fingers farther into her waiting body. She moaned an involuntary rasp of demanding desire, and, as it distracted his mind, his grip loosened on her bra and her hands were freed. She rolled until he was under her. With only one free hand, he opened his jeans, feeling her fingers grasping for his erection as soon as his zipper was completely down and she could reach into his boxers.

She abruptly stood, and he sat up to pull her remaining clothes down over her legs while she stepped out of them before he removed his own jeans and shirt. The moment he was done removing his clothes, she was sliding against his body again, their exposed figures finally meeting. She held his sex in her hands, stroking him just so she could watch desire and arousal build throughout his entire being. He felt the heat of her body as it moved closer, her silky wetness finally beginning to surround him.

He watched her face as she moved closer, and he could see that she wasn't trying to disregard his identity. He was the one that she wanted, and even if they weren't going to be in a relationship, what was happening between them certainly wasn't meaningless. His hand moved to her hip, his thumb rubbing along her belly with shockingly patient warmth. Closing her eyes, she lowered her body as he guided her hips, steadily pressing her down to him.

Her body was tight around him, thudding against the weighty presence of him within her. While they began to move, slowly at first, their bodies automatically began to breathe together again. The connection they'd felt earlier was broadened as they were both completely aware of each other and they way it felt to be joined. That connection was passionate and powerful, and the slow pace that they'd begun with as they learned each other's angles and rhythms didn't last before more carnal, basic desires won out, and they just fucked like they needed it to survive. The sheer intensity of them made things rougher than either had anticipated, as feelings that had been long bottled up finally had some outlet.

Such an intense expression of need and lust peaked quickly. Seconds after they'd allowed their desires to make their sex frantic, she started to come. As her orgasm rose from pleasurable to toe-curling, he kept plunging into her body with the same desperate need to join her, creating post-orgasmic pulses through her body with each powerful thrust that made her climax seem to last forever. As he came, he continued moving inside her like he wasn't going to stop, his body feeling a burst of immeasurable bliss that subsequently free-fell into dizzy relaxation. Their orgasms had completely swept the intensity out from under them and left them as lifeless as two still-living beings could be. She rested with her body draped over him as they remained collapsed in a pile on a mat on the floor.

Before House was really ready for conversation, Cuddy offered, "If you decide you don't want to do this anymore—"

"Can you wait and break it off when you're not naked on top of me?" he countered, the end of this personal relationship between them already flashing before his eyes and stabbing into him.

"I'm not breaking it off. I want you to know that I will understand if you need to end it."

"I'm trying to figure out how to convince you to keep doing this, and you're already giving me a way out?"

She bit her lip as her eyes smiled at him. "You want to keep doing this?"

"Why wouldn't I? Now, do we have to go to a hotel if we're feeling frisky again later, or can we stay here?"

"We can stay here," she nodded. "But—"

"Here we go…" he interrupted, as he sat up and reached for his jeans so he could put them back on.

She blocked him from retrieving his clothing. "You don't need those right now," she explained. She placed her hands and knees on either side of his legs as she hovered over his body, whispering, "I need to get a shower. Want to come along?"

He blinked as his eyes widened slightly, "Sure. I could give you a hand."

"I'd really appreciate your assistance," she answered as he closed the gap between them and brushed his lips against hers.