Emma uses the door to hold herself up, her back pressed against it as she tries to get the air back in her lungs, chest rising and falling heavily with each breath.

Fuck.

She has to peel herself off the floor to gather her wits and courage before pulling on her light pink panties and Killian's t-shirt. She tugs on a pair of jeans for the time being; even though he's seen her naked, she's still uncomfortable with the idea of him seeing her in just a t-shirt and underwear. In fact, the incident has made her even more uncomfortable.

She can try to draw out her time in the bathroom as long as possible, too embarrassed to face him, but instead, she comes to the conclusion she has nothing to be embarrassed about. She's not ashamed of her body; besides, he's the one who came back earlier than expected.

So, once her hair is thoroughly combed and kept down to airdry, she leaves the bathroom as though nothing had happened. Killian is taking out the carton of rice and containers of the entrees they had ordered, placing them on the table as she approaches.

"Thank you for getting the food."

Killian jumps a little at her voice and turns his head to look at her. His cheeks and ears are flushed with red, and Emma has to restrain herself from laughing at how adorable he looks.

"It's not a problem, love." He peels his eyes away and picks up one of the containers, handing it to her. "And sorry I…" His words catch in his throat as he avoids looking at her.

"Don't worry about it," she assures offering a small smile when he glances up at her in surprise. "I'll forget about it if you do."

"Love, I don't believe I'll be able to forget about that… I mean… because you're… you're beautiful… not that I was staring..." As he stammers on, his cheeks only grow redder.

"Killian, its okay," she laughs, adding some rice to her chicken and vegetables. "By forgetting, I mean pretending it never happened. What happened happened, so let's not talk about it and enjoy our dinner, shall we?"

Killian gives her a retreating smile and a soft nod. "Of course, Emma. My apologies."

"No more apologies," she says firmly, taking her tray of food and turning around, heading for the bed.

"Sorry, love—I mean yes, I can manage that."

Killian procures his food and joins her on the bed, both sitting against the headboard as Emma turns on the television, surfing through the channels to see what's on. Thankfully they manage to eat their meals in peace without mentioning the incident.

Killian punches the pillow in frustration and rolls around on his back, expelling a deep breath. He'd made a promise he'd forget… well technically he'd told her he wouldn't be able to, but he'd promised himself he would. Not that he wants to forget seeing a fantastic body like Emma's, but the problem is, his fairly innocent mind is being intruded with naughty thoughts of her lovely figure as he hears her breathing softly from across the room in naught but a pair of knickers and his favorite t-shirt underneath the covers. So for the sake of acquiring a good night's sleep, he needs to forget.

"Can't sleep either?"

Emma's question surprises him; with how quiet she was a second ago, and how little she has moved since they'd said goodnight, he was sure she was already sleeping soundly. "Not a wink."

"Me neither." Another bout of silence falls over the room but is broken again a moment later by Emma's soft voice. "Thank you for coming with me, Killian." It's a simple gesture, but he can't help but notice the weight behind her words.

"I told you, love, it's not a problem."

"No, I really mean it. I wouldn't even be taking this trip if not for you. In fact, I really didn't want to."

"How come?"

Her response is delayed, the words a bit cracked when she speaks again, as though she's been dwelling on this topic for some time now. "Since Neal… ever since he left, I didn't want to show up to Christmas alone. I'm sure you must've felt the same without Milah, right?"

"Aye," he replies, the single word pained with the emotions the subject brings forth.

"Sorry, I don't mean to bring all this stuff up, it's just…" her words are cut off by a choked cry. "It's just I'm really glad you're coming with me. I really didn't want to make this trip alone."

Killian can hear her crying some more and it breaks his heart. He even contemplates crossing the room and comforting her. What Neal did was downright cruel. What Killian knows about what happened from Liam and David is the guy proposed to Emma, then six months later broke off the engagement to be with someone else. And he broke up with her via text while he was shacking up with someone else in New York. After the incident, Emma had shoved her feelings down and refused to get emotional about the whole ordeal… until now. So, of course she needs to be comforted.

Without giving it another thought, Killian gets up from the couch and strides over to the bed, but it's not out of obligation. He goes to her because he wants to comfort her and tell her everything's going to be okay. He lifts the blankets, crawling in next to her, and by the time he pulls her into his arms, wrapping her up in his embrace, Emma is a mess of tears. She immediately welcomes his offer to comfort her and throws her arms around him, crying into his chest, the dams breaking as she finally lets herself go, her warm body shaking in his hold as she releases more tears.

Killian rubs her back in soothing circles and drops a kiss to the crown of her head. "It's okay, Emma. You're not alone. I'm here," he gently murmurs, and what he wants to say is I'll always be here and perhaps something else, but he doesn't. Instead, he just cradles her in his arms, rocking her gently, his chest hair sponging up her tears as he lets her cry to her heart's content. He even warms up her feet under the covers, even though her toes feel like little ice daggers against his ankles, making him hiss.

"Sorry," she says with a sniffle, moving her feet away from him.

"It's okay, love, you're more than welcome to use me as a feet warmer," he says with a soft chuckle.

"Are you sure?"

"Aye, love, please do," he answers quickly.

So she does, pressing her toes against the warmth his body provides and he rubs her feet between his own to create some friction, their legs interlocking underneath the covers. Her body feels amazing in his arms as she snuggles closer, her soft breaths blowing through his chest hair. He tightens his arms around her protectively as she nestles her head in the middle of his chest and they stay like that long after her toes are warmed.

Emma wakes to a warm glow shining through the large windows as the sun rises. Her brain is foggy with sleep when she squints her eyes, and it takes a moment for her to remember where she is—a hotel in Columbus, Ohio. She sighs deeply and lets her eyes fall shut again, not really wanting to get up yet. But she knows Killian will probably want to get going as early as possible. In fact, he's probably up from the sofa by now.

"I'll be up soon," she mumbles, her voice as groggy as she feels. When she yawns and stirs, trying to will herself to move from the bed, her brain slowly waking and becoming aware of her surroundings, she's a bit confused when she feels the very warm and very toned arms secured around her frame. And when she opens one eye, she sees her handsome colleague sleeping right there, breathing softly, his chest slowly rising and falling as he sleeps. His bright blue eyes are hidden by his closed eyelids, his long lashes resting against his cheeks. She also notices how little clothes they're wearing. She's in his t-shirt and her panties and he's only wearing his boxers.

Wait. What happened last night is the first question she asks herself, trying to put the pieces of last night together.

Oh God.

The memories come flooding back to her and it's the worst possible thing she could've done with him last night.

She'd cried in front of this gorgeous man.

Of all the times she chose to finally express her grief after what Neal had done to her, she picked being cooped up in a hotel room with Killian.

Ugh, she's such an idiot.

And he was so kind and such a gentleman, but still, she feels pathetic opening up to him like that. There's nil she can do about it now, though. The damage has been done. Now she has to figure out how to escape his hold without disturbing him.

Slowly and carefully, she rolls over to her other side, facing away from him. She gently lifts his arm that's splayed over her stomach, but her actions backfire and he tightens his hold around her, pulling her closer and sighing in her hair. Emma starts to panic, but it's not as though she doesn't appreciate being in his arms, because God, she does. His body feels incredible against hers—the way his breath tickles the back of her neck and the way his hand curls protectively around her belly. But she's afraid he'll wake up, and she's already embarrassed enough as it is from her breakdown last night.

So, she tries once again to lift his arm, letting it fall to his side, but as she shifts around, his hand manages to gravitate to her hip and she jumps, accidentally pressing her butt against his groin. A gasp flies from her mouth and an unintelligible groan comes from his throat as she feels the prominent hardness in his boxers pressed up against her ass.

Heat surges through her, but the need to remove herself from the bed is even stronger. This time she's not worried about waking him, and practically jumps out of bed, but as she turns around to see if he wakens, her heart sinks when his hand reaches for the now empty spot on the bed, as though reaching for something to hold onto, but without success.

Emma has to shake off any effect he has on her and rushes to her suitcase on the dresser and retrieves a pair of jeans, quickly pulling them on. She grabs her key card and some cash from her purse and throws on her jacket, fleeing the hotel room as though her heels are on fire.

Disappointment flares in Killian's gut when he wakes up and realizes Emma's no longer in the bed with him. He sits up, planting his bare feet on the floor as he rubs the sleep from his eyes.

At the same moment, he looks down and realizes he's supporting an unbearably hard, morning erection.

Bloody hell.

He didn't even have a naughty dream, as tempting as it was while Emma was clad in only a shirt and her knickers. He'd made a promise to himself he would not think about her as any more than a friend while she was crying in his arms. He cares about her too much and is too much of a gentleman to have sexual fantasies about a damsel in distress seeking comfort in him and trusting him enough to cry in his arms.

Killian tries to think about other things that will help to coax him down from his current state, but before he gets the chance, the door is slowly being opened. He quickly pulls the comforter over his lap to hide his erection just as Emma is poking her head through the crack of the door.

"Are you decent in here?"

He certainly doesn't feel decent.

"Aye, love, come in," he chuckles lightly at how careful she is to enter the room after the incident from last night when he had walked in on her naked.

Fuck. Now is not the time to be thinking about her naked.

Killian shifts uncomfortably, trying to conceal the discomfort he feels with his hard… situation.

Emma enters the room bearing two cups of Starbucks coffee and her cheerful demeanor is a heavy contrast to the state she was in last night. "I brought your favorite, a salted caramel mocha," she announces, making her way over to him and handing him the steaming hot beverage.

An appreciative smile stretches across his lips as he accepts it. "Thanks, love."

"Not a problem." Emma slides off her jacket and sets down her coffee, trotting off to the bathroom.

Killian is surprised by how cheerful she is, not even mentioning last night.

Emma emerges from the room a minute later, a collection of toiletries in her hands as she replaces them in her suitcase. "I knew you probably wanted to hit the road as soon as we can, so I got up early," she explains zipping up her suitcase and grabbing her coffee.

Regret clouds his features as he stares at her, swallowing thickly. "You haven't been waiting too long for me, have you?"

"Oh no, I literally got out of bed like fifteen minutes ago," she assures him, but suddenly he's filled panic, hoping she didn't notice his current state as she'd laid in bed with him. "Well, actually I got off the sofa fifteen minutes ago. You were snoring loudly and hogging the covers, so I moved to the sofa in the middle of the night," she laughs and takes a sip of her coffee.

Killian sighs in relief.

Thank the Gods above.

When Emma lowers the cup from her lips and takes a deep, wobbly breath, he sees the anxiety buzzing in her eyes and notices her behavior is alluding to nervous energy. She seems skittish as she takes a few steps towards him, her eyes bouncing back and forth between the coffee she's now cradling in her hands, and him. "Listen, I wanted to thank you, Killian," she says sincerely, her tone more serious than before. "Thanks for…" Her words trail off as she peers down at the coffee cup once again, and she can't seem to find the right words. "Well, you know." She lifts her eyes, the sparkling emeralds meeting his blue ones again.

"Of course, Emma." He graces her with a soft smile and reaches out his free hand, offering it to her. She takes it, a warm smile reaching the corners of her lips, dotting the dimples in her cheeks. "And just so you know, I meant what I said last night," he murmurs, staring deeply into her eyes, "I'm always here for when you need to… you know," he finishes, his smile turning sheepish and his cheeks warming with a soft blush.

Emma's lighthearted laugh sets his heart on fire, and the tension between them softens into something more comfortable, but somehow the problem he's having in his lap is unfortunately not any softer.

"Well, I should probably let you get ready," she says, their hands still linked together.

"Right," he agrees, trying to break free from the trance they're both in. "I'm definitely in need of a shower." (A cold and bracing one.)

"I'll just let Mary Margaret know our progress and that we're getting back on the road, otherwise she'll start freaking out."

Killian chuckles. "She certainly will. Sounds like a plan, love."

"Okay," Emma nods, but she doesn't release his hand, and instead, lingers in her spot for a moment, not wanting to leave. He'd be lying if he'd said he wanted her to.

Killian clears his throat and decides to take the higher ground for both of them. "Emma, if I'm to shower, I'll need my hand back."

Emma's pupils jump and she snatches her hand away. "Oh right, sorry, you definitely need your hand back to shower," she laughs nervously and backs away. "I'll let you have some privacy and give Mary Margaret a call."

With breakfast from IHOP in their bellies, they're on the road again and no longer get on I-70 when it begins snowing, the snowflakes softly landing on the windshield as Killian turns on the wipers. The snowfall is slow and steady, making the drive fairly smooth for three hundred miles or so until the wind and snow gradually pick up. It's late in the afternoon when they reach St. Louis, Missouri, and a winter storm is rolling in a little too quick for comfort.

A blizzard alert is announced on the radio that includes the county they're passing through, but before they can find an exit with a hotel to take retreat in, the road ahead grows less and less visible as the 35 mph winds cast a heavy blanket of snow, visibly blocking their path, and the road they're traveling becomes far too slick to drive without sliding into a ditch like several other cars already have along the way, even at a sluggishly slow speed.

"Bloody hell," Killian curses, already going as slowly as he possibly can with his emergency lights blinking, but at this rate, they decide they might as well pull over and wait out the storm.

"It's okay, they said the warning will only last for another couple of hours, so we should be fine," Emma says confidently, although it's a long time to be waiting in the car in a blizzard when it's a mere fifteen degrees Fahrenheit outside. Then again, she's endured worse.

"I hope so," he sighs. "I knew I should've filled the gas tank an hour ago," he remarks. Worry is flickering in his eyes and he swallows thickly when he sees the fuel gauge reading at less than a quarter full.

"We should shut off the engine to save on fuel."

"But we'll freeze, love."

"No, we won't. We can use each other for warmth," Emma suggests without flinching.

Killian cocks a brow, looking over at her. "And how do you suppose we do that?"

"Well, we have blankets, and with two of us, we can huddle close for even more warmth. I've spent far too many nights sleeping in a car when I was a kid. I used to sneak into vehicles that were parked on the streets for shelter, and I was on my own, so a couple hours with both of us sharing the car should not be too bad."

Killian stares at her sadly, but Emma refuses to linger on the topic and instead unbuckles herself and opens the door, moving to the backseat and sliding in, grabbing the folded blankets.

"Should we call Ruth and let them know we'll be home later than expected?"

"Not yet, they will lose their minds worrying about us."

"You're right," Killian agrees with a nod, and Emma can tell he's a bit nervous about being stranded in the blizzard as he looks back at her. "Are you sure we shouldn't leave the engine on for a while?" he asks. "Once we start driving we won't be too far from a rest stop."

"We should really reserve the gas. We don't know how long we'll be stuck out here, and the longer we have the engine on the more gas we're wasting."

"Aye, you're right again, love."

Emma smirks. "I know."

Killian cuts off the engine and joins Emma in the backseat where she is waiting with fluffy blankets. Removing their jackets, they huddle together, although Killian seems reluctant.

"Can we just get closer?" she asks, and it's only so she doesn't freeze. Or so she tells herself. "I promise I don't bite."

"I know, sorry, love." His eyes are full of apology and he releases a shaky breath before shifting and moving in close. Pulling the jackets and blankets around them, they wrap their arms around one other, using each other's body heat for warmth.

Emma looks out into white haze hanging over them, feels the air temperature drop and the wind pick up, snow drifts sweeping violently around the car. She's not worried, though. As she nestles her head into the crook of Killian's neck, she can feel his heart beating softly in his chest, the soothing rhythm relaxing her.

The silence is as heavy as the snow landing on the windshield, and Emma knows at this rate, two hours will feel like forever, and not that she minds being wrapped in Killian's arms once again, she knows it's only a matter of time before all of the heat in the car will disappear, so she thinks of a way to pass the time.

"Do you want to play a game?" she offers him, probably louder than he expects, since her mouth is not too far from his head, however he doesn't even flinch.

"What kind of game?"

"How about a game of truth?" Emma suggests, immediately regretting the decision as she lifts her head from his shoulder. She has too many secrets to tell, but none she wants to reveal to Killian, since he is the center of most of them. But there's a reason why she's chosen to teach history as a profession—she's never been much of the creative type. Knowing facts and dates, how wars were started and how shit was invented is much easier than being one of the inventive minds she preaches about to her students.

"Is that like Truth or Dare, except without the dares?"

"You got it," she answers skittishly, wanting to kick herself.

"Okay, you're on, love," he says with a smirk. "Would you like to start?"

"Sure." Emma thinks about it for a second and decides to keep the topics as less sensitive as possible. "You know what, why not, instead of asking questions, we each reveal something we've never told anyone. That way we don't have to reveal anything that makes us uncomfortable, how about that?"

"As you wish," he agrees indifferently.

"Okay, here's a confession… I always tell Mary Margaret I love her mince pie, but the truth is…" Guilt clouds her expression as she bites her bottom lip. "I don't."

"Really?" Killian questions in bewilderment, a brow arching towards his hairline. "But you always devour every last bite?"

"I do it so I don't hurt her feelings. I mean I love her cooking, don't get me wrong. Her Kolaches are amazing, but her mince pie, not so much. I don't know if she uses different ingredients or what, but it's just not my favorite."

"Maybe you just don't like mince pies?"

"No, that's the problem, I love Ruth's, it's delicious. She uses the right balance of cinnamon and nutmeg, without adding too much sugar, and the homemade crust she makes is so good and flaky. And if I told my sister in law I liked Ruth's and not hers, she'd feel like a failure, so you have to promise you won't tell her."

"You have my word, Emma."

"Okay, your turn."

"Hmmm… okay here's one… when Liam and I were kids, my mum would always make Chex mix during the holidays and my favorite was the peanuts, and Liam would eat every last one to purposely deprive me of them. So to get him back I would always eat all the marshmallows out of the Lucky Charms."

Emma laughs. "Okay, I'll admit that's funny, but it doesn't really fit the criteria of being one of your darkest secrets. Liam would have noticed the marshmallows were gone."

"Yes, but I always blamed it on our cousin who stayed over a lot, so actually you are the only one I've ever told that to," he says with a smug grin.

"Okay, fair enough." She purses her lips in contemplation and adds another confession. "When I pair people up for group assignments in my history class, I never let them choose their partners."

Killian cocks his head to the side, lifting a brow. "That's the best you got?"

Emma shrugs. "It counts, I've never told anyone why I do it."

"And why's that?"

Her features fall at the thought of her painful childhood memories. "Because I know what it's like to not be picked. When I was in the system, parents never picked me because I was too old... that is until Ruth took me into her home and adopted me. Being rejected fucking sucks and I never want my students to experience that."

Kilian offers a weak smile as he locks eyes with hers and lifts his hand to the apple of her cheek, his thumb idly stroking her there. But he doesn't look at her with pity, only pride, because he knows the of woman she's become. He knows of her story and still he doesn't pity her or feel sorry for her, he only regards her with admiration. Emma closes her eyes briefly, enjoying the way he touches her with such care and affection.

"Well, I'll tell you this then, because it will make you like a saint."

"Tell me what?"

"In my classes, I love confiscating my students' phones when they're texting just so I can see the desperation in their eyes when it goes off in my drawer," he admits with a crooked grin.

"Wow, you're ruthless," Emma laughs.

Killian shrugs, unwilling to deny it. "You have no idea. Torturing students is why we became instructors, right?"

Emma nods, not willing to argue his statement. "I have to say I'm impressed, and you're right, I do seem like a saint."

They continue with the game, each learning something new about the other, guilty pleasures and embarrassing confessions, anything they can think of without getting too serious. Neither of them even notice how cold the car gets, too caught up in each other's embrace and becoming more comfortable with one another, until things take a sudden turn.

"I always thought Neal was a jerk," he confesses bluntly, " because of how he treated you and how he always seemed preoccupied whenever he did go to the Christmas gatherings with you. I never told you because I didn't want to make you upset."

Emma's not keen on discussing her ex, but Killian does have a point—Neal is a jerk. "When he and I were dating, I probably would've been upset, but now I can honestly say that's an understatement. In fact, jerk is too kind of a word for him."

"Aye, you're right. He's a selfish idiot who didn't know what he had right in front of his nose."

The sincerity in Killian's words cause her to tilt her head and look at him, their faces only centimeters apart. "And what would that be?"

Killian's gaze seeps into her soul to the point where she can no longer breathe, her lungs deprived of oxygen. "Someone who's full of fire and love, someone who's intelligent…" he pauses, his eyes flickering to her lips as he moves a few strands of loose hair behind her ear. "Someone who's wickedly gorgeous," he whispers, his breath ghosting over her lips. He lifts his eyes to hers again, and her breath catches in her throat.

The air in the car is terribly thin as Emma seriously contemplates kissing the holy hell out of him. She's always wondered what his beard would feel like pressed to the edge of her lips, wondered what he tastes like and wanted to solve the mystery she's always pondered as to whether he's a good kisser or not, but who is she kidding? Of course, he's a good kisser. Perhaps an earth-shattering, toe-curling, mind-boggling kisser who can flip her entire world upside down with only his lips.

Which is exactly why she can't kiss him.

Emma pulls back, turns her head and checks to see if the weather has changed outside. To her relief, the snow has ceased, and the road in front of them is clear. "Look at that, we can get back on the road," Emma points out, gaze reverting to Killian. She can see the disappointment flickering in his eyes and it pains her, but she knows it's best that their fake relationship stays that way.

Removing the blankets from them, she grabs her jacket, and Killian aids her with getting her arms in the sleeves in the cramped space. With her jacket on, she starts to get out of the back seat when he gently places his hand on her arm.

"You alright, love?" he asks, and Emma looks at him, offering a weak smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Come on, Emma, you're not the only one who's good at reading people," he says, his words wrecked, and it makes Emma realize he was hurt when she didn't kiss him. "After we've shared so many secrets with each other, you can at least tell me when something's bothering you. Did I do something to upset you?"

"No, you didn't, just…" Killian's eyes are pleading with her, seeking some sort of answer, but despite the game they were playing moments ago, she can't tell him the truth, so she settles for something else. "Killian, you're a great guy and I like you a lot, but right now, I'm incapable of committing to anything." it's not a lie, but it's not the entire truth.

"Emma, we only almost kissed, I wasn't proposing," he points out, his eyebrows weaving together, displaying his confusion.

"I know, but it would've been a one-time thing because that's all I can handle right now. And you... you're not a one-time thing kind of guy, so I think it's best we keep things between us the way they are."

As much as it hurts, Emma opens the car door, leaving Killian with a devastated expression on his face, and she slips into the driver's side, ready to take over driving. The words were painful as she had spoken them, but she really doesn't know if she can be in a relationship again. She's too scared. And she knows damn well any kiss with Killian Jones sure as hell wouldn't be a one-time thing.