"Not funny, Swan."

"Really?" She looks pointedly from his hookless left wrist to the way his wide mouth is twitching with amusement. "Then why are you smiling?"

He comes to stand before her, trapping her against Mary Margaret's shabby chic kitchen counter. "I'm smiling because I'm thinking of all the ways I'm going to punish you for stealing my hook with your magic." Dipping his head, he sighs hotly against her ear, and every particle of skin on her body from her scalp to her toes tightens in pleasant anticipation. "You might want to quit, love."

"And why would I do that," she murmurs as she slides one hand down between them, caressing his already thickening erection with an accuracy that has him sucking in a sharp breath, "when I'm winning?"