Thank you guys for reading and reviewing! I'm having such a great time writing this fic!

A special thanks to my beta supershipper!

Warning: sexual content! If you are under 18, run, run for the hills!!

And we're back to Cuddy's point of view!



At last, it was time to rest. The body, of course, not the mind. So I opened the door to my house with Rachel in my arms. This was going to be a long night and I was glad I had her with me.

As I got to my bedroom, I laid her on my bed. Then I changed into a nightgown and joined her to see if I could sleep as peacefully as she was.

I had no luck. I just laid there on my side and caressed one of her arms with my index finger. She grabbed my finger and squeezed it, not letting go. My heart always melted when she did those things. She needed me and she was showing it. Being so young, she could show as much neediness as she wanted. And I just stayed there watching her sleep.

It hadn't even been twenty four hours since House had left, and the conversation I had just had with Wilson had made me travel back in time, reliving things that had been kept hidden for a long time.

Truth was I never allowed myself to thing about those times. Not since a couple of months after House and I lost contact and especially after he came to work for me.

And judging by Wilson's little inquiry before, he knew something about what House had hallucinated. What I didn't understand was what did it have to do with how we met.

What I hadn't told Wilson was that House and I actually spent two months not speaking to each other after what happened at the party. And as time passed by, I realized he would be graduating soon and maybe I'd just never see him again. As the memory of it all came back to me, I realized the same thing was happening again. I let House leave without telling him so many things I should have told him. What if he could never practice medicine again? Where would that leave us? Would we lose contact again? And I felt the tears coming.

And there I was, crying, holding on to my little girl's hand. Now my fingers were holding on to hers tightly. I couldn't tell who needed whom anymore. Actually I could. I was in way worse condition and as the ghosts of Christmas past came invading my mind, I needed to hold on to something. And I was relying on my little baby girl. It didn't last three minutes. I let go of her little hand, careful not to wake her and decided to put her to bed. She was too young to handle it. She didn't deserve that and I sure wouldn't want to raise a girl who would feel responsible for other people's feelings and feel guilty about it for the rest of her life. I knew better than that. So I put her in her crib in her bedroom and came back to bed alone.

Alone… alone in my bed… again.

My mind traveled back to the last weeks in college with House. And to that night. To that one night I had never forgotten.

It had been another weekend spent at school, preparing for the final exams. Thank God the semester would soon be over. Actually, when it crossed my mind that day, it also reminded me, again, that Greg would be leaving. He would be graduating and we still weren't talking. I sighed.

That night, I had gone to bed early, in need of a good rest to face the rest of the week.

It was 11 p.m. when I was awakened by the sound of a knock on my door. I didn't get up. And they knocked again. And again.

"God! It's Saturday night! Why aren't people out having fun?" I got up really cranky and sleepy.

When I opened the door, I saw Greg.

I wanted to say something, God, there was so much on my mind! I had missed him, but I was also still pissed off at him. I wanted to start a fight, I wanted to slam the door in his face, I wanted to ask him how he had been. I didn't have time to do any of that.

He just leaned in and kissed me. A soft, lingering kiss. His hands didn't even touch me, just his lips.

When his mouth left mine, I shivered.

"Why?" That was all I could manage to say.

"I'm leaving in two weeks."

"I know…" I looked at him, and I knew he could see how much I wanted him. I could see how much he wanted me too, so I took one of his hands and leaned in to give him a kiss on the corner of his mouth. It was my way of showing that it was okay.

Seconds later, he pulled me into a deep and urgent kiss, closing the door behind him with a kick. His grip on my waist was so tight he was almost lifting me off the floor. I was so caught up in the moment that I only realized what was happening when I heard half of my things falling off my desk. Books, class notes, lots of pens and a lamp. He made a mess. But the mess on the desk was nothing compared to the mess in my life the next few weeks. Oh, who am I kidding? The next few years…

I didn't say anything. I couldn't find the words anyway.

We started undressing each other in such a rush. I can vividly remember the way his chest felt against my palms for the first time. It was really dark in there, and I was getting to know his body with just my hands. I don't remember all of it, just flashes, little things he did.

I tried to get to his pants and undo them. I couldn't finish the job as he had just managed to take my bra off and was running his beard over my skin and placing kisses all over my chest. When I felt his teeth, I lost track of what I was doing and just fell back on the desk.

I remember the teasing. He teased a lot. The son of a bitch thrived on hearing me moaning and begging and telling him how I wanted it and where I wanted it. And I was never one to hold back on the moaning, I loved how turned on he looked every time he heard me.

As much as it was passionate and urgent, it was sweet. He was sweet. Having always been a very good observer, it was like he knew what I wanted next. We had never kissed before, we hardly ever touched, but that night, it was like we already knew all there was to know about each other's bodies.

And then there was the feeling of his beard against the skin of my stomach after his mouth had left my breasts just as he took my pants off in one quick motion. My pajama pants and my panties, desperate to taste me. I remember the feeling of the cold air hitting me and even better the warmth of his tongue when it touched me. I gripped the edges of the desk with both hands as he kept licking me like a hungry dog. Sometimes he stopped just to tease me and I just wanted to slap him in the face.

He would look up at me and grin, he was loving that. And I was sliding down on the desk, so desperate. When it became too much, I sat up and kissed him, tasting myself on his lips. He slid his hands down and just kept teasing, slipping a finger inside of me as I tried to undo his pants. And there it was, his cute boxers. When my hands touched him for the first time - a feeling I also remember really well - he gasped and kissed me forcefully. I fought the urge to say something about his size, knowing I'd never hear the end of it. He slid his fingers out and pulled me into his embrace as he lifted both of my legs and wrapped them around his waist.

'Not so fast.' I said, not stopping the kiss for one second.

'Don't tell me you don't want that.'

'Oh, I want that. But I want that first.'

'I knew that was your thing.'

I must have blushed, but I was so hot already, it probably didn't show. I sat him down on my chair, kneeled and just went for it.

I remember his hands on my hair turning my head to the side as he looked down, wanting to see what I was doing. I felt his thumb caressing my cheek as he tried to form some words to express what he was feeling, words I never understood.

At a certain point, he made me stop. He pulled me for a kiss and, as I stoop up, he slid his hands up my thigh and started teasing me again with his fingers as he licked my breasts. Getting closer to him, with one leg on each side of the chair, I was about to take his hands away from between my thighs and allow him to enter me.

'Not here.'

I remember the tone of his voice when he asked me to turn around and bend over on the desk and the exact moment he started thrusting into me. I closed my eyes and just focused on the feeling of his hands and their grip on my hips. He was anything but gentle, showing with the speed of his thrusts and the tightness of his grip that he wanted all of me, wanted to be as deep as he could.

That's when I hit my head on the desk. Damn it, it hurt! I laughed a little, but since we were so close we just couldn't stop. That was when he placed his hand between my forehead and the desk so that I wouldn't hit it again and just kept thrusting into me. The pressure was building up and I felt Greg's mouth travel up from my neck to my ear. I could feel his fast breathing as he whispered to me:

"I want to…. hear you… Lisa."

God, I remember the urgency of his voice! And his teeth on my neck as he came inside of me. His hands sliding down my body until he grabbed my waist, still panting, and told me to get down from the desk. We went to my bed and slept without saying another word.

The next morning, I remember leaving the room before he woke up and doing whatever I could so that I didn't have to run into him. I was hoping he wouldn't be there when I got back. I was actually avoiding seeing him, I had no idea what to say. But the feeling stayed with me, under my skin, throughout the next two weeks, maybe more.

Almost twenty years later, I can still remember the feeling of having him inside of me.

That feeling kept me company through lonely and hard times. It was not about the sex, but about the intimacy, and I wondered many times if House felt the same, if he still remembered that night and sometimes I punished myself for not having the courage to face him the next day.

So, with my mind far, far away and one hand inside my panties, I drifted off to sleep after one of the longest and loneliest days of my life with only one thing on my mind: I had to know what Wilson knew about House, I needed to know if the fantasy that had stayed under my skin for decades had stayed under his as well.