This had finally become ridiculous.
'One-time thing,' she had said – and then she had reunited with Neal and told him in no uncertain terms that it was truly over between them.
'One-time thing,' she'd said – and then had quickly reminded herself of those words after she'd launched herself into Killian's warm arms, embracing him victoriously after they finally (finally) had rescued Henry.
'One. Time. Thing,' and yet for some ungodly reason, she had appointed him as her Deputy upon their return to Storybrooke. Hell, he hadn't even had a choice in the matter really. She'd damn near demanded it.
And now here they were. Alone in the Storybrooke Police Station, nothing to do because things were unusually quiet as of late, and all Emma could focus on were his legs propped casually on his desk (clad in that delicious, goddamn leather because some things would never change), his good hand clutching that morning's copy of the Daily Mirror. Whatever article he was reading must have been fucking fascinating because he couldn't tear his eyes away from it (though what could be so interesting that it warranted that much concentration, Emma had no idea).
Killian arched his brow and laughed at something on the pages, and good God, why was that such a turn-on for her? Even from his place across the room, he engulfed her entire body, pulling at her like a violent undertow. The air felt thicker with him around – hotter. It made her blood boil and her skin flush with excitement ('God, seriously?') while the intoxicating scent of rum and cinnamon that was so undeniably Killian Jones invaded the space around her, swallowing her and licking at her senses like a warm flame.
And then he bit his bottom lip, and memories of Neverland and tropical heat and a stolen kiss of gratitude ran furiously through her mind's eyes, making her belly coil hungrily and her knees shake beneath her desk. One-time thing, it had to be, but God, why did he have to look so sinful and smell so good, and why did the memory of his mouth on hers have to burn even now, her lips practically parched for his kiss, for his tongue sweeping lovingly against her own, his teeth biting her lip instead and pleading in that small motion for her to open up to him entirely?
And, God, she wanted to. She wanted to bare her soul and look him in the eyes and just allow herself to be taken for once in her life. To be loved.
But she didn't. She kept her distance even though she kept him close. Because it had been a one-time thing, and it could never be anything more than that.
Sometimes, she asked herself why that was. The reasons were becoming fewer and fewer with every passing day.
"Penny for your thoughts, love?"
Emma nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice. Her gaze shifted up from his mouth to his eyes, and the mischievous glint in those baby blues was unmistakable. He didn't even glance her way, just kept reading that stupid paper, and Emma blushed crimson as she realized she'd been caught.
"Excuse me?" she said.
"Well, it's just that you've been staring for the last hour or so is all," he explained matter-of-factly. "Thought maybe there was something on your mind that you'd like to… discuss."
And the way he said 'discuss' dripped with innuendo, implying anything but talking.
Emma narrowed her eyes and feigned some air of annoyance. "I wasn't staring."
"Oh? What would you call it then?"
Emma said nothing. Another thing that was becoming ridiculous as of late? The way in which she could no longer combat his verbal challenges with any of her own.
Killian smirked. "Ah, speechless again." Suddenly, he lowered the paper, blue eyes finally meeting hers.
And, fuck, she swore she was drowning in him.
"How long are you going to refrain from kissing me again, Emma?" he asked, and his voice was so soft and so honest that Emma gripped her knees until her knuckles turned white because it had been a one-time thing and damn him for making her want otherwise.
A moment passed before Emma realized she had been holding her breath, replaying that memory over and over until she swore her lips were swollen from the thought. She exhaled and grabbed her coffee cup, standing determinedly as she sauntered over to the coffee pot. "Finish your paper, pirate," she muttered.
And she could practically feel the heat of his smirk as he said, "As you wish", and did exactly as he was told.