Emma Swan, in paint splattered jeans and a t-shirt with the sleeves and lower half carelessly ripped away, stared at a paintbrush in her hand. She walked slowly back and forth in front of the unfinished work, her mind as empty as she could make it. She let the color, the movement, and the depth of the images take form without conscious direction. Just as she reached to add a hint of red to one corner, her doorbell rang.
"Damn." She muttered, glancing at the clock at the far end of her loft. Just a little after eight a.m. It was much too early for a briefing with Graham, but it couldn't be anyone else. She didn't get unexpected visitors.
She set the brush aside and wiped her hands on a soft cloth. Pushing a stray strand of blond hair behind one ear, she crossed to the door. When, out of habit, she glanced through the peephole, she blinked in surprise and stopped with her hand on the doorknob. She looked again, her heart suddenly racing. Hurriedly, she pulled open the door.
"Regina!" She didn't try to hide her pleasure, an uncommon lapse in her usual reserve. Emma had learned not to allow her emotions to show, because her feelings were the only private things still left to her.
Since she was twelve years old, her father had been a public figure, and as a result, she had been as well. Strangers had photographed her, or written about her, or sought to be close to her, all because of her father. Bombarded with all that attention, she had never been sure if someone really cared for her or merely her reputation. Regina had been different, and Emma had let her get close.
"I can't believe it. God, I've missed you."
Regina's pulse quickened. It had only been six weeks, but it had felt like months. Emma was every bit as beautiful as the last time Regina had seen her. Blond hair verging on gold, thick and wild with a hint of curl, fell around her face in an untamed mane. Blazing green eyes and a smile that could melt the polar ice caps made an already attractive face stunning. A deceptively lithe body hid well-toned muscles. And underneath all that, rage coupled with an unbendable will. Astonishing.
"Hello, Emma." Regina wanted to touch her but couldn't. She didn't want to hurt her and knew she was about to. Her face revealed little of her desire or her regret as she smiled softly.
Emma was too intent on how good it was to see her to notice the slight reservation in Regina's tone. She reached out, grabbed the agent's hand, and pulled her into the loft, slamming the door behind them. In the next instant, she had her hands in Regina's hair, her lips on Regina's mouth, and her body pressed hard against Regina's, pinning her to the wall. When she'd temporarily satisfied her need to taste her, she pulled away a fraction and gasped. "I've missed that, too. It feels like forever."
"Emma..." Regina made an enormous effort to get her body under control. The unexpected onslaught had gone straight to her head. And other places. Her stomach knotted with need and her blood burned. She felt herself swell and grow heavy with arousal.
Shaking her head, she tried to quiet her lust. She had to tell her, and quickly, because she wasn't strong enough to resist. Didn't want to resist. "I..."
"When did you get back?" Emma threaded her arms around Regina's waist and leaned her hips into her. "I thought you were still on that case in Florida. Did it wrap up already?"
As she spoke, Emma started working on the buttons on Regina's shirt with one hand. She had been planning on spending the day painting, but that was before, her fingers shook she was so hot for her.
They'd had only a few days together, and that had been weeks ago. Five short days after almost a year of denying the attraction growing between them. A near tragedy had finally brought them together, then Regina had left for Florida and Emma had accompanied her father to Southeast Asia. Nothing about the future had been settled, there hadn't been time, but none of that mattered at this moment.
"God, I want you." Emma whispered, almost groaning the words. No one, no one had ever done this to her before. Made her want so badly, or ache so deeply. More than sex, more than intimacy. Regina created an explosive combination of the two that scorched through her, leaving her always hungry.
"Emma." Regina gasped, grabbing for the hand on her shirt. "Wait."
"Too late." Emma laughed, throaty and low, shifting to straddle Regina's thigh. The added pressure between her legs made her gasp again, her eyes closing momentarily with the rush of excitement. "Oh, God. Way too late, baby. I need your hand on me. Now. I'm so, so ready."
"I'm working, Emma." Regina said gently, feeling her shudder and hoping Emma couldn't sense her own urgent response. Trembling, suddenly light headed, she swallowed a moan as Emma thrust into her again. "We can't."
"You can be a few hours late for wherever you need to be. You're a regional director now." Emma muttered. She wasn't really listening to anything except the need singing through her pelvis. "I can't wait."
She'll never forgive me. Regina moved her fingers to Emma's wrist, circling it softly. "I'm working now, Emma. Here."
Something in Regina's tone finally penetrated Emma's consciousness, a hint of sympathy that eclipsed the desire Emma could feel simmering in Regina's body. With effort, she took one step away so that their bodies were no longer in contact. Her hands shook. She shivered lightly but ignored the rush of persistent arousal.
"What do you mean?" She asked, her voice unnaturally calm.
She searched Regina's eyes for the answer, because Regina's eyes never lied. Not to her. What she saw in them hurt, deeply. Hurt in a way she hadn't thought she could ever hurt again.
"Damn you." Emma whispered on a breath, not knowing which of them she meant. "What have you done?"
"I've been reassigned, Emma. To you." Regina watched Emma back away, forced to let her go. Jesus, I had hoped it wouldn't be this hard I just need a little time to find out what's going on. Then I can explain, make you understand. "Emma."
"When?" Emma interrupted coldly, retreating across the room. She needed space between them. She had to stop wanting her long enough to think. "When did you find out?"
"Yesterday."
"And you said yes? Without even talking to me?" What about us? Didn't that mean anything to you? I thought...oh, what I fool I was to think.
"Emma, please." Regina said quietly. "There was no time. I received a directive order from my superiors informing me that the president of the United States requested me to resume responsibility for his daughter's security. I could hardly say no."
"Of course, you could." Emma said bitterly. "If you wanted to. There are plenty of other people who can do that job. Graham is handling it just fine." Don't do this. Please don't do this.
"It's just not that simple." Regina said, knowing her words would not help. She wasn't sure how to explain that part of her didn't want anyone else to do the job. Couldn't explain that every day while she was somewhere else, doing something else, she worried about Emma. She couldn't forget that there was a creep who had stalked Emma, photographed her, left messages for her, and ultimately, shot at her, and he was still out there. She wanted to be with her. She needed to be with her. "It's not just about us."
"No. It never is." Emma turned away, struggling with disappointment and betrayal.
Clearly, whatever she thought had been developing between them was over. Regina Mills was not the kind of woman to compromise her professional ethics by carrying on a secret affair with someone she was supposed to be guarding. It would have been difficult for them to see each other under any circumstances, now it would be impossible. Emma swallowed her pride and made one last attempt to undo what had already been done. This decision had been made without regard for her feelings, like so many others in her life.
"I could speak to my father." Emma said, disguising the hope in her voice. "The security director can name someone else to command the detail."
"I'm sorry." Regina struggled not to go to her. No matter how hard Emma tried to hide it, Regina could hear her anguish. "There's a reason I've been recalled. I don't know what it is yet, and neither does Graham. Until I find out, I'd prefer you not say anything."
"This is what you want?"
"I didn't mean to hurt you, but your safety is more important than anything else."
"That's not an answer, that's an excuse. Answer me, Regina. Is heading my security detail more important than us?"
"Yes."
Emma's face was careful blank. "Well, that's it then, isn't it?"
"I'm sorry." Regina said again, unwilling to offer further excuses that would only be insulting to them both.
For the time being, she didn't have any choice except to assume the responsibility that had been given to her. And in truth, she wouldn't want it any other way. She had to know what was happening. Still, watching Emma's eyes turn cold rocked her. She couldn't think about losing her, not and still do what she needed to do.
"No need to be sorry, Commander." Emma said dismissively. "We both know how important your job is to you. Now, if you don't mind, I'm busy."
Regina worked to keep her voice neutral. "I understand. I'll need to discuss plans for the rest of the week with you."
Emma walked past her, careful not to touch her, and opened the door. "Then you can come back this afternoon for the scheduled briefing."
"As you wish." Regina said resignedly, stepping into the hall.
The silence that ensued when the door closed solidly behind her was lonelier than anything she could ever have imagined.
"Graham." Regina said into her transmitter as she keyed the penthouse elevator outside Emma's apartment.
"Go ahead, Commander." Graham automatically checked the monitor providing visual surveillance of the hallway in front of the elevator. His eyes switched to the adjoining screen showing the interior of the elevator as Regina stepped in.
"Sign me out to my apartment." She said. "It's the same address as before. Someone pulled a few strings to get it back for me."
She wanted a shower, a change of clothes, and a few minutes to herself. She needed to banish the sound of Emma's disappointment and the image of pain in her eyes. She had to meet with her later in the day to confirm the agenda for the upcoming weeks, and she needed to be in control of herself when she did.
The very first moment she had seen Emma Swan, she'd been attracted to her. Out of duty, she had ignored those feelings for months. But, as time passed, she had come to know her, and desire had turned to caring. She hadn't been able to withstand both the demands of her body and the yearning of her heart, and, finally, she gave in.
Finally, she had touched her.
But it had been different then, then she hadn't been charged with protecting her. For those five days, she hadn't been a Secret Service agent and Emma had not been the first daughter. Now, everything had changed, she was professionally responsible for Emma's safety again. Now, she would somehow have to learn to live with her need, because she wasn't going to be able to touch her again.
Already, she ached with the loss.
Graham studied Regina's face in the monitor, and even with the mild distortion of the transmitted image, he could make out the tense set of her jaw and the grim line of her mouth. Uh-oh. Things must not have gone well with Cobra. He wasn't surprised. Regina Mills had been shot in the line of duty, shot while guarding Emma Swan. Shot in place of Emma Swan when she'd stepped in front of her and stopped a bullet from a sniper's rifle.
The commander didn't remember the nightmarish scene as she's lain bleeding on the sidewalk while agents surrounded Cobra and dragged her to cover. Graham remembered it very well.
He remembered the president's daughter screaming Regina's name as Regina went down, and her struggling to break free of the restraining arms, struggling to go to the dying agent, careless of her own safety. He remembered her sitting by Regina's bedside for almost two days while Regina's life hung in the balance. And he knew, too, that Emma Swan had requested that Regina be removed from her security detail once she recovered. He couldn't imagine she would be happy about this new arrangement.
"You're scheduled for a briefing with Cobra at 1300 hours." He said while glancing over the day's events printed out on a clipboard by his right hand. When in doubt, revert to procedure.
"I've got that." She snapped as she walked quickly through the lobby, nodding to the doorman as he hastened to hold the double glass doors for her.
Once outside, she stopped under the short green awning and surveyed the rooftops, barely visible through the trees, of the buildings across the park. It was the first time she had been back since the shooting. She stared at the sidewalk and recalled seeing the fine red mist on her hands and the clear, blue sky overhead as she lay on her back, feeling life slip away. She shivered lightly, thinking that it might have been Emma that day and not her. Then she shrugged the memory away and crossed the street toward her apartment on the other side of the square.
When she's stripped off her jacket and eased out of her weapon harness, she walked to the windows that overlooked Boro Grove directly opposite the Hamelin. Staring at Emma's penthouse, she thought about her up there now, in that space that should have been a haven. The windows facing the street in Emma's loft were bulletproof, the fire escape ended one level below her floor, and the skylights on the roof were crisscrossed with woven titanium mesh that would require a blowtorch to cut. A posh fortress, but a subtle prison nonetheless.
Regina couldn't blame her for hating it. She couldn't even blame Emma for being angry with her. She wished she could change it, but the facts of Emma's life were beyond anyone's control.
She turned away from the image of Emma's smile and the memory of Emma in her arms. Wanting her would not help either of them now.
After Regina left, Emma waited motionless on the other side of the door, listening to the distant hum of the elevator climbing to the penthouse to carry Regina downstairs. Long after she knew Regina was gone, she hoped foolishly that the agent might return. By the time she finally turned back into her empty loft, she had managed to replace longing with anger, a familiar antidote to disappointment.
If only she could convince her body that she no longer cared. Regina's arrival that morning had been so unexpected that she hadn't done anything except react. Few women had ever been able to excite her the way Regina Mills did, with little more than a smile. It was one of the things that made her security chief so frightening. Emma made a point of keeping everyone at arm's distance, physically and emotionally, but she failed miserably with Regina. She'd been ready in a heartbeat just at the sight of her standing outside in the hall.
Walking through the loft, she was still throbbing with the aftermath of unanswered arousal. She was so angry with herself for allowing this to happen that even her body's automatic response seemed like a betrayal.
"Shower." She muttered under her breath, shedding clothes as she crossed to the partitioned area in the corner that connected to her sleeping alcove.
She twisted the dial and stepped under the still cold spray, gasping at first contact. Her nipples were still full and tender from the recent stimulation, and the wetness between her legs was not from the water running down her body. She leaned against the far wall and let the warming cascade engulf her. She closed her eyes, and that was a mistake.
As soon as she shuddered to the soothing beat of the water on her skin, she saw Regina's face. She felt Regina's body along the length of her own, remembered being pressed together against the door. She imagined Regina's hands on her, just as she had imagined them so many times during the weeks they had been apart. Ordinarily such remembrances produced just a pleasant hum of pleasure, but she was already aroused, painfully so. The pinpricks of heat on her skin seemed to streak directly between her legs, and the tingling pressure building there warred with her self-control.
I will not think about her.
She grabbed the soap and began to lather her neck and chest, smoothing her palms over her breasts and stomach. The flicker of fingers passing over her nipples made her breath catch. Without consciously meaning to, she caught one between her thumb and forefinger and squeezed, arching her back slightly into the warm spray as the sharp pinpoint of pleasure pain seared down her spine. It was too good, too good not to lift her hands and cup both breasts, squeezing as she rhythmically twisted her erect nipples until all she could feel was a steady burning pleasure beneath her fingertips.
Legs trembling, she pressed her shoulders harder against the rear shower wall for support. She ached inside. Still massaging her breasts with one hand, she pressed the other to her stomach, running her fingers lightly over her skin, moving lower with each stroke. Her pulse beat between her legs like a second heart. She knew how hard she was, had felt the stiff swelling as she straddles Regina's thigh. If she touched herself, she would never be able to stop. She had been close the minute her lips had found Regina's mouth.
I am always so damn ready for her. She imagined Regina's fingers where her own brushed through the hair at the base of her belly, and her clit twitched.
"Ah, God." She whispered, shuddering at the memory. She needed to ease the pressure, couldn't think of anything else. Her fingers slid lower, one on each side of her swollen clit. Her hips jerked as she squeezed lightly, and she had to brace herself with one arm against the wall to keep from falling.
Her mind was empty of everything except the exquisite sensation of her fingertips rubbing over her blood engorged flesh. She was dimly conscious of her muscles quivering and the pounding pressure of her orgasm building. Faintly, she heard herself whimpering with each teasing stroke. Neck arched, she thrust her hips steadily back and forth as her hand moved faster between her legs, setting her nerves on fire. When the inferno roared from her pelvis and scorched along her veins, she chocked back a cry, her fingers squeezing down with each spasm, milking each pulsation to the very end.
As the contractions finally stopped, she leaned weakly forward into the spray, both arms outstretched, palms against the opposite wall, barely able to stand. Her body was satisfied, but she took no satisfaction from it. She still felt hollow.
"Damn you, Regina." She whispered.