Now, the first part of this story still stands completely fine on its own, but this is a short continuation that follows them into the townhouse and into the bedroom. It skates a thin line along the T/M rating, so please be advised.

Part Two

Cameron used her new key to open the front door. She knew there was a wide, goofy smile on her face and she tried to stifle it, but her attempts to play it cool were all failing. House's hand covered hers on the doorknob and they entered the townhouse together.

"Please note the hardwood floors and original crown moldings," House intoned seriously.

"I can think of some other hard wood I'm interested in," Cameron quipped.

House's eyes snapped to full alertness. Double entendres weren't usually part of Cameron's vocabulary, and that had nearly been a triple. He hid his grin by turning to wave his arm towards the kitchen.

"The kitchen may appear somewhat small but it features a gas stove and a refrigerator that is always stocked with hummus and Sprite," House made a face as he rattled off the two things he would never be able to understand Cameron's affection for.

"You know, I think I have heard about this place," Cameron said with a play-thoughtful look. "The current occupant is known for his chicken florentine, isn't he?"

House smirked. "Yes, as a matter of fact he is and if you're a very good girl you may get some tonight."

Cameron sidled over to him and slipped her hand into his. "Oh, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna get some," Cameron surprised him again and winked. "So, what about that tour of the bedroom?"

"Wait right here," House said, indicating the living area. "The current occupant mentioned that he might not be completely decent when we arrived. I'll go check it out." One lecherous eyebrow rose as he smirked at her before turning to limp down the hall.

Cameron stood in the middle of the living room and started counting. This was turning out to be much more fun than she'd imagined when he'd tossed the paper on her desk and demanded that she follow him to the garage. She looked around the room, imagining where her things would fit. Ninety-nine, one-hundred. She'd decided to give him to the count of one-fifty before following him into the bedroom. If he wasn't naked by then he wasn't trying hard enough.

Her sofa might fit in the guest room, but her coffee and end-tables would have to go. No great loss; they were just run-of-the-mill standards from Ikea. She'd have to put her bedroom set in storage. Selling it was also a possibility, but she didn't want to be caught with nothing if things… She rolled her eyes at herself for imagining the demise of their relationship before she'd even moved in so much as a bookcase. House definitely didn't have the market cornered on cynicism. Cameron simply saved hers for her own life and chose to believe the best about other people and theirs. One forty-nine, one-fifty. She headed down the hall to the bedroom.

The door was closed and she grinned as she rested her hand on the doorknob, wondering what sort of mockingly 'come hither' look he'd be wearing, and if any clothing would be in evidence. She'd bought him a pair of smiley face boxers as an April Fool's joke. Maybe he'd finally be wearing them. She pushed the door open, ready for anything but what greeted her eyes.

The blinds were down, the curtains were drawn, and the room was almost completely dark except for the light that flickered from the candles that dotted every available surface. The bed was turned down, awaiting them, and House stood a few feet in front of her wearing dark green silk boxers and leaning on his cane. His expression wasn't mocking or teasing in the slightest. In fact she couldn't remember the last time he'd looked so relaxed and yet so serious at the same time. He pulled his left hand from behind his back and held out a rose that was such a dark red that it bordered on black.

"Welcome home."

Now she was going to cry.

Gregory House was not romantic. His normal idea of appropriate attentiveness centered around keeping clean towels in the bathroom, clean sheets on the bed and her favorite CD in the 12-disk changer in his car. There had been only a few moments were sentimentality had slipped in. The corsage on their first disastrous date. Thirty-three pink roses on her doorstep the morning of her birthday. A completely cheesy Valentine's Day card that he'd actually signed 'Love, Greg'. None of those little slips had prepared Cameron for this.

House stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. "The crying isn't supposed to happen until after the sex," he teased gently.

She pulled back and kissed him then, not hard or demanding, but with a sort of force that defied definition. She marked her place in his life and his in hers, their togetherness encapsulated in the feelings behind a single kiss. House willingly responded to her lips and tongue, cane and rose dropping to the floor as he gripped her tighter. One hand was on her hip, the other at the center of her back, trapping her against his body as if she had the slightest intention of leaving. Cameron tightened her hold around his neck. Not bloody likely.

Their first time together had been a lot like that first unfortunate date. It had been awkward and clumsy with a certain painful sweetness. They'd been eager and half-drunk, pulling at each other's clothing and both promising that of course they were ready. Rough touches and teeth hitting together and rushing, rushing to feel more. More skin, more sensation, more heat. It had been a long time for both of them and the mechanics of it all were well-remembered but rusty as pain knifed through a ruined leg and long hair caught around a heavy wristwatch. She'd been too tight and he'd been too big and he'd climaxed ten seconds after entering her, leaving her sore and unfulfilled. His always-skilled fingers had ended up finishing the job and then they'd lain there staring at one another until Cameron had finally settled her head against his shoulder and they'd fallen asleep. It was a testament to their stubbornness that they'd refused to let their first time be their last time.

Now, ten months later, so much had changed. They knew every inch of each other's bodies and there was never a reason to rush unless they were trying for a quickie before work.

House moved backwards until his legs hit the side of the bed. His hands never left Cameron's body and his mouth never left her lips. She let out a little breathy sigh and started to kiss down his jaw towards his throat and House groaned. He sat down heavily on the bed and dragged his rough cheek along the cotton blouse that covered her belly. He could feel her heat through it but it wasn't enough; not by half. Large hands tugged and pulled until the fabric slipped free from the waistband of her skirt. He was about to yank the two sides of it apart and send buttons flying, but her smaller hands covered his and she bent and kissed the top of his head.

"Very macho," she said lowly, "but I paid eighty dollars for this blouse last week." Her nimble fingers undid the buttons and she shrugged it off as he pulled her close and kissed the soft skin, newly revealed. His tongue poked out to swirl around her belly-button and she trembled and whimpered, feeling her knees grow weak. House hooked his arms around her, forearms supporting her bottom, flexing against soft flesh and pulling her even closer until she was standing between his spread legs, her shins pressing against the mattress.

House raised his face and Cameron knew what he wanted and deftly reached behind herself to undo the clasp of her bra. Pale skin, glowed in the candlelight and Cameron threw her head back, baring the long column of her throat and looking like an image of some goddess thrust up from the sea. Venus the way Botticelli never dared to paint her. Ten months had erased her modesty and restraint.

As his lips moved across her skin, Cameron moved her hands to his shoulders, kneading the muscles there before sliding to the back of his neck and into his lightly curled hair. She loved the feel of it sliding through her fingers, fine and soft and exactly the way the rest of him wasn't.

The pressure against her thighs lessened and she felt House unbuttoning and then unzipping her skirt. She gave a slight shake of her hips and sent the navy linen sliding to the floor. House placed a kiss at the juncture of her legs, breathing her in through nylon and lace.

"If you don't want these ruined, you'd better take them off," he said huskily, rubbing callused fingers over silk.

Cameron pulled herself together enough to step back, and House pushed himself onto the bed fully. He watched as she shimmed out of her stockings, pulling down her underwear with them. She sent them flying towards the laundry basket in the corner. Two-points. She smiled smugly.

"You shoulda been in the women's NBA," House said, eyes never leaving her naked body.

"But then I wouldn't be here," she said, cocking her head and letting her hair fall in front of one eye.

"You're right. Bad idea. In fact, you're too far away already. Get over here."

A slow sway of her hips and a toss of her hair, and then she was climbing onto the bed, kissing House's chest as she made her way towards the pillows. She looked in his eyes, with candlelight reflecting in their depths, and wound her arms around his shoulders.

"For a man who thought I'd say no, you sure were prepared," she said quietly.

"Yeah. I guess there's some hope left in me after all," he said as he leaned up to capture her lips. "Don't tell Wilson. He'll never let me live it down."

"Don't worry," Cameron murmured, stifling a gasp as his lips marked a path to her ear. "I like to keep this side of you my little secret."

House growled deep in his chest and rolled over, the action well-practiced and perfected now.

"Little secret?" he said pointedly.

She chuckled. "Maybe not quite so little," she agreed, her hands eager to touch him.

Within minutes he was teasing her mercilessly, sensations rolling over her in waves. She knew she was close and she laid a hand against the side of his face, making him look up into her eyes. She wanted them to be together.

He looked down and locked eyes with her. The darkness of there matched his own, he was sure, and he crushed his mouth to hers as passion flared bright between them, their bodies following the rhythm of a primitive dance. They maintained their possessive kiss until House had to pull his mouth from hers in order to suck in enough air to call out her name.

Strong legs latched around firm hips and Cameron arched up into her release as she felt House fall over the edge. She didn't scream. She didn't even shout. Her eyes focused on his and she whispered the same three words over and over again.

"I love you. I love you. I love you."

Throbbing turned to pulsing and then to warm, sticky satiation, and House moved from between Cameron's legs to keep from crushing her. She lay limp and motionless beside him and he grinned, something that he only seemed to do in her presence. His leg ached but he climbed out of bed, shuffled to the bathroom and came back with a warm washcloth. Gradually Cameron floated back to her senses as he ran the cloth over her still-sensitive skin and then threw it towards the corner. Another two-points. He nodded in satisfaction and pulled Cameron to his side of the bed, away from the dampness and into his arms.

She smiled sleepily and kissed the arm that was draped over her shoulders. "Nothing says love like cleaning up after sex," she quipped.

House chuckled and kissed the top of her head.

Love. I love you. I love you. I love you.

"You know, that was the first time you've ever said you love me," he stated, the sound of her repeated words still running through his mind.

It was true. He wasn't exactly known for heart-felt revelations, but in ten months he'd told her he loved her half a dozen times. She had never echoed the sentiment, hiding behind 'me too' or a cheeky 'I know', instead.

"I don't move in with people I don't love," she said quietly, "but I guess I've gotten a little cautious about blurting out my feelings."

House kissed her shoulder, stubble rasping against tender skin. He knew where that caution came from. "Throwing caution to the wind?" he asked, serious beneath the light tone.

Cameron brought his strong right hand to her lips and brushed her lips over the knuckles. "Completely."