When she first went into the room, she hadn’t really intended on kissing him.

She hadn’t really intended on anything—all she knew was that it was supposed to end with the needle in her pocket getting filled with his blood. But somehow things had shifted. And somehow she’d ended up moving toward him—close, closer—fingers brushing his face and pulling him near her.

And now, somehow, she’s making out with House.

But even as her lips move against his and her tongue shoves into his throat, she tells herself—really, it wasn’t like she’d planned on this.

(Really.)