A/N: I promise we'll get into the plot a little bit more, but for now enjoy some more Wet!Killian. Happy weekend!
"I still can't believe the Bureau is going to pay you to learn how to surf!" David complains.
"I know, right?" she says, leaning back in her desk chair. "Jealous?"
"Damn right I am," he answers, throwing a balled-up piece of paper at her.
Emma grins, catching the paper and chucking it back at him, hitting him square in the chest. His answering pout only makes her smile wider.
Regina was more than pleased that Emma made contact and got Jones to agree to the surfing lessons so easily. She was quick to lay on the praise, but also quick to follow up with a stern warning and that "I'm not really threatening you, but actually I'm threatening you" face.
"Three years, Emma. It's been three years that these guys have eluded capture. This is the first solid lead we've had, and if you lose the scent…" she had trailed off, her fingers clasped in front of her as her lips twisted into a frown. "You don't want to know what kind of an evil bitch I can be if that happens. Are we clear?"
"Yes, ma'am," Emma had said seriously, giving her a curt nod as she rose from her chair.
"Did you tell her the part about how he looks like a male model?" David had asked as she exited Regina's office.
"Shut up, Dave!" she had warned him, hitting him in the arm and rolling her eyes.
"Alright, bud. I'm out for the night. I'll see you in the mor- Oh, wait, that's right. I won't be here in the morning, I have a surfing lesson," she teases, rising from her chair.
David leans back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head as he shakes it. "Damn. If only I were a woman."
"You may not be a woman Dave, but you are kind of a girl," Emma says, wrinkling her nose at him.
"Ha ha. Very funny Em." David glares at her as she walks out of their office.
"Go catch a wave or something," she hears him call as she walks down the hallway. "Or perhaps some criminals!"
Wednesday morning Emma leaves for the beach early, nervous about commuter traffic, but once she's past I5 and driving through the hills on La Jolla Parkway, she breathes a sigh of relief.
She had to drop the top of her convertible in order to fit her brand-spanking new surfboard (courtesy of the Bureau, thankyouverymuch) in her car, and now the wind is whipping through her hair, the plentiful sunshine warming her face and arms. She turns the volume up on the radio as she presses hard on the gas pedal, a wave of pleasure winding through her as the car shoots forward. She has a tendency to drive a lot faster than she should, but the adrenaline rush is too hard to resist, especially in her Mustang.
Pulling into the parking lot, she scans it for signs of the gang, but no one is hanging around. After finding a spot, she jumps from the car like a giddy school girl, grabbing her surfboard and making her way towards the expanse of golden sand stretched out before her.
It's been years since she's surfed, but it was something she learned to do when she was in college. One of her roommates was from California and she insisted on teaching Emma, even letting her use her surfboard. She smiled at the memory - she and Ariel at Sea Isle City, a daytrip from their dorm at Penn State, catching waves and then getting fish and chips and beers afterwards. Flirting with boys on the boardwalk. Those were the days.
She's early enough that she has time to spread her towel out and sit down on it, pulling the hair tie off of her wrist and braiding her long hair so it will be out of the way.
"Did you steal someone else's towel or did you decide to bring your own this time, Swan?" The rich voice surprises her, and she looks over her shoulder to find one Killian Jones walking up behind her. Catlike stealthiness - she'll have to add that to her list.
It feels like deja vu as she jumps up again, her heart thumping in her chest as she's blown away once more by level of attractiveness currently standing in front of her. He's just as appealing dry as he was wet, the black of his wetsuit complementing his dark features nicely. If only she had known how hot surfers could be, she wouldn't have wasted so much time in the bars.
"Morning!" she chirps brightly. "And, yes, I managed to remember my own towel this time."
He merely nods at her, but the dimple in his cheek gives away his amusement.
Just then, Whale, Jefferson, and Locksley walk by with their surfboards, nodding in Killian's direction. He gives them a bro-nod back, and she notices the guys elbowing each other as they quite obviously check her out. They don't stop though, heading straight for the water with obvious intent. Emma is a little disappointed that she doesn't get an introduction, but she's reminded of what Regina instructed her to do: pace herself, ease her way in, don't make waves.
"Those your friends?" she asks, feigning ignorance.
"Aye, I suppose you could call them that. Just some fellow pirates as it were," he says bemusedly. Emma raises her eyebrow at that.
"Right then, Swan, you were expecting a lesson this morning? I figured we would start with your form. Good form is of the utmost importance when it comes to surfing." Killian puts his surfboard down on the sand before he grabs hers and lays it down next to his.
"Alright, be a good lass and come lie down next to me. I promise I won't bite," he says, winking at her.
Emma scoffs - Is he for real? - before she positions herself on her board, lying on her stomach.
"Show me your stroke. Right, like that. OK, so pretend we're out past the break and we see a good wave coming, you're gonna paddle as fast as you can, and then when you're over the break, you pop up - like this." Killian demonstrates popping up on the board into a wide-legged stance, his knees bent. She finds herself looking straight up into his crotch, and immediately turns her head, grinning to herself.
"Now you try it," he instructs.
"OK," Emma says softly, then she pushes up with her arms and uses her ab muscles to pull herself up into a stand as quickly as possible. She tries so hard to do it fast that she loses her balance, falling backwards against Killian, who fortunately manages to hold her up, his hands grabbing her hips as her back hits his chest. Her heart pounds suddenly, pleasant tingles expanding from where his hands are holding her up.
Looking up at him over her shoulder, she finds him smirking down at her, his too-blue eyes full of mirth.
"Sorry," she says with a grimace.
"'Salright, love," he tells her, his hands lingering on her hips for far longer than is necessary. "Shall we try it again?"
She nods in response, unable to manage speech while she's distracted by his touch.
After practicing a bit longer on the beach, they finally head into the water, the coolness of it causing Emma to gasp as the foam tingles around her ankles.
"You're not getting scared, are you?" Killian asks, raising an eyebrow at her.
"No, I was just waiting for you," she replies coolly, taking off in a run towards the break, jumping through the waves until the water gets too deep.
She can hear his laughter behind her, and tries to ignore the strange feeling in the pit of her stomach as she glances sideways and finds the rest of his gang about a hundred yards out. The agent in her is itching to make her way towards them, but she has to remind herself to take it easy. The "junior advertising exec who wants to learn how to surf" doesn't need to make friends with all the skeezy-looking guys. She wants to appear flirty, not like a slut.
After spending half an hour mostly eating it over and over, she manages to get up on her board for a nice little run. Killian follows her in, hooting and hollering. Her broad grin is met with a high-five and praise from her instructor.
"Now that's how you ride a wave, Swan. How does it feel?"
"Pretty good. Maybe my muscle memory is finally kicking in."
"Muscle memory?"
"Yeah, you know, when you've done something a bunch of times, even if you don't remember, your brain just sort of takes over."
"Ah. From when you first learned many years ago, I take it. Shall we call it a day then? I assume you have a job to get to?"
Emma sighs wearily. "I suppose I can't get paid just to surf all day," she replies, secretly laughing to herself. That's exactly what she's getting paid to do at the moment. And flirt with a hot guy.
Grabbing their stuff, they make their way over to the shower near the restrooms.
"Ladies first," Killian gestures, giving her a wicked grin. Bastard probably just wants to watch. Well, if it's a show he wants…
Emma presses the shower button, turning it on, and she tries not to flinch as the water comes spraying out forcefully at her. Reaching up behind her neck, she grabs the zipper on her wetsuit and tugs it down, then reaches behind her back to continue unzipping. Slowly, she peels the wetsuit from her shoulders, glancing in Killian's direction as her bare skin becomes exposed to him. She's wearing a bikini under the wetsuit, but it's purposely skimpy, the kind with only a thin string holding the fabric in place.
Killian is leaning back against a low wall, and she watches as his expression changes from amusement to something darker, something full of want as her wetsuit is peeled back halfway and her torso is revealed to him. He rakes a hand back through his wet hair, and his tongue goes inside his cheek as if he's contemplating something decidedly naughty. She has to keep herself from grinning. I've got you right where I want you, she muses.
Wiggling her hips, she attempts to peel the wetsuit off without losing her bikini bottoms, then she steps out of it and into the spray of the shower. Closing her eyes, she pulls the tie from her hair and lets her braid out, tugging her fingers through it and shaking it out. Then she leans her head back and lets the water blanket her body. She knows she must look a little bit obscene, but she is at the beach, and she does need to get all the saltwater rinsed off.
She's just wondering what Jones' expression must look like now when a strong hand grabs her wrist, pulling her away from the shower and then wrapping her towel around her shoulders somewhat forcefully.
Surprised, she looks up into Killian's eyes, only to find them dark and stormy and full of something she can't quite put her finger on. What the hell?
"Show's over," he bites out, nodding towards a group of college boys wearing shit-eating grins who had gathered near the wall.
White-hot anger flares up in Emma's chest at his interference, because she can take care of herself and she doesn't give two fucks about some ogling from the other sex. Still internally seething, she has to force her brow to unfurrow, remembering who she is and what she's doing here.
Mask back in place, she gives him a fake little pout as she brushes the wet strands of hair out of her face. "I thought you were enjoying the show?" she asks, biting her lower lip coyly.
His expression softens, and he tilts his head to the side as he leans a little closer into her space.
"Perhaps some shows would be better to have in private?" he asks, licking his lips as his eyes shoot to her mouth.
"Perhaps," she answers, and for a small beat she almost thinks he's going to kiss her as he hovers close. Her heart races, the blood rushing in her ears as they gaze intently at each other.
But then he's pulling back, stepping away from her, and the moment is over. Emma realizes what's almost happened and she panics a little, bending to grab her stuff from off the floor.
"We're still on for Friday then?" he asks as she gathers her belongings to her chest.
"Yeah, I'll see you then!" She attempts to sound way more breezy than she feels.
Then she turns away from him, heading for the bathroom. She can feel his eyes on her back the whole way there, and a shudder ripples through her when she is finally inside the cool darkness of the little building.
What the hell was that all about? Did he feel the need to protect my honor? Or was he just being a jealous, overprotective ass? Emma stomps into a changing room, letting the door bang close behind her. Killian Jones is not at all who she expected him to be. No, he is turning out to be something far more dangerous.
With her clothes back on, Emma feels a bit more composed again, and she makes her way out of the bathroom, stopping to grab her board from where it leans against the bathroom wall. She is just about to step off the curb and into the parking lot when she looks up, and stops immediately in her tracks.
The breath whooshes out of her lungs as she considers the view before her. Killian is standing behind the open tailgate of his black truck, his wetsuit halfway removed and revealing sculpted lean muscles peppered with a smattering of glorious, dark chest hair. He turns slightly to get something from his bag, and she realizes his hip bones are jutting out above the folded-down material, framing a perfectly flat stomach.
Unconsciously, she licks her lips as she realizes he isn't wearing a damn thing beneath his wetsuit, and she wonders what else she might get a glimpse of besides the hip bones that are calling out for her touch. She wants to hide herself before he catches her ogling, but her car is parked on the other side of his, and there is no way to get to it without passing him. So she does her best to shield herself behind a tree, peeking out from behind her board and hoping he doesn't see her.
She should have just kept walking.
Watching intently as he wraps his towel around his waist, she sucks in a harsh breath as she realizes what's coming next. His hands go underneath the towel as he tugs at his wetsuit and she begs her fairy godmother for the towel to accidentally drop. Or stay up, she can't decide. She puts her hand over her face, then immediately removes it. Just then, Killian turns so his back is facing her, and his towel slips down just enough to reveal the area beneath his tan line, the rounded tops of his behind pale in comparison to his muscled lower back.
Oh God. Emma swallows thickly. She wants him, and she wants him bad.
Turning towards the ocean, Emma tries to distract herself with an equally alluring view, but it just isn't the same. She considers the implications of the situation she's been put in, and decides that nothing good can come of it. The edge she thought she was walking on just became razor thin, and she is going to have to fight with all her might to stay grounded.
Luckily, when she turns back around, Killian is dressed again in a t-shirt and boardshorts, and he's climbing into the cab of his truck. Emma lets out a long sigh, and begins walking back towards her car. When she gets closer to his truck, she sees him look up and raise his hand in a wave, a shy grin crossing his features as he ducks his head.
She can't help but grin back as she mimics his wave, her cheeks burning in what she knows must be a crimson flush.
Later that day, Emma hits the gym hard, taking out all of her sexual frustration on the weight bag as sweat pours down her face. It does nothing, however, to erase the images of a half-clad potential suspect from entering her dreams that night, and when she wakes up the next morning she finds herself tangled in the sheets, the hazy memory of a kiss that steals her breath away still lingering in her mind.