Chapter 4 – Old Habits Die Hard

From where she sat on her parents' white sectional sofa, Emma glanced – for the umpteenth time – at the antique clock above the mantle.

Killian was late. Forty-two minutes late.

Balling her fist, she imagined it connecting with his irritatingly perfect face. Not just for standing her up, but also for killing the innocence in the young girl she had once been.

Instead, she took her anger out on the gum she was chewing, her teeth chomping in tempo with the restless moves of her crossed leg.

She jittered like that until a cramped jaw and one rubber leg forced her to stop. Then she threw her head back into the cushion and deflated in a rush of despair.

This dinner was the worst idea she'd ever had.

Outstretching her legs, she looked down at her Prada covered feet. They were classic navy stilettos, matching the color of the sexy mid-thigh halter dress she was wearing.

Emma was definitely dressed to impress; the cowl neck of the dress revealed the upper swells of her breasts and a hint of black lace push-up bra. She also got her nails done, applied a touch of makeup and wore her hair down in waves, just the way Killian used to like it.

Going all out was just her way of showing him what he had been missing, but not only did it seem redundant now, it seemed utterly ridicules. The whole ensemble mocking her for thinking any good could come out from this allegedly harmless get-together.

She wrapped her gum in a tissue she dug out of her clutch and pursed her lips at the stinging insult of being left hanging like this.

God, she was an idiot. Why was she sitting around and waiting for him to show?

Abruptly, she rose to her feet and stormed out of the house.

As soon as the door slammed behind her, she welcomed the cool evening air that flowed over her rage-heated skin. Then she went down the few stairs and walked through the garden path of paving stones.

Gripping the wrought iron handle, she pulled the white picket fence gate open and stepped out to the small town quiet streets. The night was darker here than in the city that never slept, yet she was hyperaware of the achingly familiar surroundings.

Emma slowed to a halt and looked up at the lavender leaves. Here under the flowering plum tree all of her hopes and dreams had been crushed. That one single moment had chased away myriad of treasured memories of long talks and longer kisses between two adolescents unable to part.

Her hand leaned against the tree trunk, fingers idly tracing the jagged bumps of the bark's cracked surface. Closing her eyes, she could still feel the texture of it against her back, she could still see Killian curved over her, his forearm propped against the stem to bring him closer. She could still feel the brush of his lips against hers and his glorious hair fisted in her hands…

The visions were slowly but surely stealing her sanity. Needing to get away from this spot, she started walking; aimlessly, having neither a plan nor a destination in mind.

With every step she took, a sobering realization sank in deeper – there wasn't a single place in this damned town that didn't trigger recollections; not a single corner where she and Killian hadn't shared a touch, a kiss, a laugh.

Unable to escape the memories, she let her legs bring her to the one place they'd spent more hours than she could count.

…

The short walk to the docks felt longer on four inch heels.

Passing by the emotionally-charged boat, Emma noticed a light coming from below deck.

She paused mid-step, hesitating for a moment before her brain staggered back into action and her body briskly followed. Killian would see her whether he liked it or not. She came into town with a mission and there was no way she was leaving without it being accomplished.

Climbing up the vessel, she looked toward the opening. She didn't want to go down there and deal with more ghosts of their past, but when she heard shuffling noises coming from downstairs, she moved toward the flight of steps without conscious thought.

If Killian wasn't dead, he'd have less than a heartbeat to be.

Curling her fingers around the handrail, she gingerly made her way down the steep staircase. "Anybody here?" her voice sounded small as it drifted to the space below, but the moment the soles of her shoes hit the berth deck's hardwood floor, it was lost altogether.

Coming down here was a huge mistake.

Countless of visions from their past slammed into her in a rush, stirring emotions so deep and powerful, they rocked her back on her heels.

Her gaze slid over the L-shaped settee that hugged an oval oak table. An inescapable reminder of the many after school hours they'd spent there, studying, eating, talking…

The images curved her lips in a wry smile.

He was the best study buddy a girl could ask for; he'd known how to brighten her mood with a single word, and she in return had made him want to cram harder. They evened each other out perfectly. Not to mention the perk of being able to make-out between study sessions.

Recalling the many times things had gotten so heated up between them that they had to retire to one of the cabins, her gaze drifted to the corridor that led to the sleeping area. But nothing could have prepared her for the vision she found there.

…

Fresh from a shower, Killian emerged out of the hallway with nothing but a pair of charcoal boxer briefs and an open black dress shirt. He stopped in his tracks at the sight of her, his hands freezing on the propped collar.

Her skin flared under his gaze and she prayed he couldn't notice in the dim light.

"Hey," he said softly, his hands straightening the collar as he stepped further into the room. "Can I get you something to drink?" he gestured at the small kitchen near the seating area.

She wasn't thirsty for anything. Except for him. But she wasn't going to admit that.

"No thanks." Staring – because she just couldn't help herself – Emma watched Killian buttoning his shirt with an impressive deftness. The sight of his sinful body combined with the wooded spicy scent of his shampoo hit her senses so hard that she almost forgot how pissed-off she was. Almost. "You're late." She flexed her fingers at her sides, resisting the urge to cross her arms. The defensive posture would imply vulnerability and she wasn't going to hand him that weapon. He could bring her to her knees just fine without it.

"I know, I'm sorry," he said apologetically. "I got held up, didn't you get my text?"

"What text?"

"That I'm running late." A frown marred the space between his brows. "Did you change your number?"

"No." Her thoughts drifted to the clutch she'd abandoned on her parents' sofa with her phone in it... the one she'd kept on silent mode these past few days so she wouldn't have to cope with the numerous calls and messages from Neal – her recent ex-boyfriend. She knew she couldn't avoid Neal forever, but dealing with one ex at a time was crucial to her mental health, especially when one of them was Killian Jones.

Emma swallowed before the next question, keeping her tone as nonchalant as possible. "So what held you up?" or rather, what was more important than meeting with an old flame he hadn't seen for almost a decade?

Her gaze followed him as he strode to the kitchen and pulled bottled water from the fridge. He tilted the bottle toward her in silent inquiry, but she shook her head, still waiting for his answer.

She took a few steps in his direction, closing some distance.

Killian leaned his hip into the counter and his head tipped back as he took a big gulp of water. Her gaze zeroed in on his throat. It was completely exposed and working on a swallow, and she felt an urge to nip it with her teeth, hard, and then tender.

When he set the bottle down, his tongue darted to lick his lips, a gesture that'd always managed to make the flesh between her legs tighten viciously.

"A potential new customer." He said finally.

"Oh." She didn't see that coming.

"It was a last minute thing, and since Liam isn't around…" he put the bottle back in the fridge. "I couldn't blow him off."

But he could blow her off? And for business?

Her stomach churned with fury and confusion. She knew work was a passion for Killian. Even as a teenager, adventurous and prone to risk-taking, he'd had diligence. And still, she didn't think she'd ever been more offended by a person she had such strong feelings for. A person who had once claimed to love her...

"The man is an influential member of a prestigious yacht club not far from here," Killian went on with restrained enthusiasm. "So it could mean a lot of new business."

"That's great." She tried to be excited for him, she really did. She also tried to not tense up and reveal her roiling emotions, but something must have betrayed her because his gaze warmed with concern. And for some reason it only hurt her even more.

"Is everything okay?"

Nothing was.

"Yeah," her eyes stung with unshed tears, her cue to flee before she embarrassed herself by crying. "I'll ah – " Clearing her throat to strengthen her voice, she gestured at the staircase. "I'll just wait upstairs." She turned to leave.

"Hey… hey…" his voice was soft like a soothing caress. And he stayed her with a hand on her bare arm, his fingers leaving trails of fire along her skin as they slid down to catch hers. Her gaze fell to her hand in his and she watched his thumb brushing over her knuckles. The feeling of the gentle pressure he exerted was heady. She closed her eyes, wishing he touched her elsewhere. Everywhere.

It wasn't fair that he could still affect her in this way. The slightest touch and she was ready – eager, actually – to drop her panties for him.

Mad or not, her body had always worshiped his.

"I truly am sorry." He gave her hand a tender squeeze and her heavy eyelids lifted so she could look at him. Her gaze darted over his face; it was calm and impassive, but his eyes were telling. There was something more than just sincerity in those blue depths; it seemed like true remorse, as if he were apologizing for something more than just being late.

His hand lifted to her face, but froze midair. Then he drew it back at same time she felt his other hand slipping away.

She should have just walked away, but his scent was messing with her head and the loss of physical contact had left her bereft and desperate to regain his touch.

Moving in fast – before she lost her courage – Emma dropped her mouth to his throat and shoved her hands under the back of his shirt to claw at his bare back, punishing Killian with teeth and nails until he hissed in pleasured pain.

In that moment all the turbulent emotions that had been rioting inside her, became too much to contain. And to fuck Killian out of her system seemed like a great idea. Until she felt him pulling away.

"Emma," he gasped, looking bewildered. His hands reached back for the edge of the counter and curled around the lip as if to rein himself in.

But she didn't let up. Reaching a hand behind her neck, she pulled at the blue tie and released her dress to slither down her body and puddle on the floor.

Emma knew she looked good in those black lacy boy shorts underwear and matching strapless bra; she knew she would look even better without them. All those sweat-drenched hours at the gym hadn't been for nothing. She had a hot body and she was proud of it. But Killian didn't move a muscle and his gaze hadn't left her eyes.

Always a gentleman…

Stepping out of her heels, she took the final step that separated them. But when she was about to crush her mouth against his, he cupped her face and restrained her.

Her heart sank in her chest. And she reminded herself that he'd been the one to break up with her, not the other way around. What if he didn't want her even for her body?

Looking into his intensely blue eyes was getting harder with every passing second. She had never felt more naked in her life and the fact that she was in her lingerie had nothing to do with it.

…

He shouldn't have done that; he shouldn't have touched her. But it had been so long and he'd missed her so much.

And now he'd been given a chance to enjoy Emma one more time, something he craved more than his next breath. But not like this. Not when she was looking at him like that, with eyes that reflected the depth of her wound. It killed him that she had to be at this place – hurting so much that she was willing to turn an act that was sacred for them into something ordinary. He didn't want rushed angry sex. What he wished was to say with his touch everything he would never allow himself to say with words.

I love you. I miss you. I'm desperate for you. I'm nothing without you. I wish you were mine. I wish I never had to let you go. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. And the worst.

With his forehead against hers, he inhaled deeply. "Emma love," his voice came out so hoarse it was barely recognizable. "Slower, okay?" he closed his eyes and waited with bated breath until she nodded her agreement.

Angling his head to get the perfect access, he pressed his lips to hers and felt her tremble. He started out slow, his tongue licking across the seam of her lips, luring her to open for him. When she obliged, he dipped his tongue inside and brushed it against hers, tasting her in long leisurely strokes. She groaned against his mouth and the sweet sound vibrated through him. Whether it had been from pleasure or pain, he knew not. For him, it was both.

The smell of her silky soft skin surged his pining heart with life. It was intoxicating as the kiss itself. He couldn't get enough of her; he knew he never would. Her mouth was made for his. She was made for him.

Their lips parted for a brief moment and she sucked in a slow, deep breath. Then a tear slid from the corner of her eye and he scrubbed it away with his thumb. His head canted to the other side and he took her mouth again with tender, slow licks, his lips coaxing and apologetic.

Wishing to kiss her pain away, he kissed her over and over, pouring all the love he held for her into every kiss. His mouth was tireless; he could kiss her until the sun rose in the sky and it would still not be enough.

Long minutes after, Emma broke the kiss with a soft sound and panted for breath.

He pulled back to look at her and tucked a golden strand behind her ear. "You're nervous." He whispered, his fingertips gliding reverently across her flushed, breathtaking face.

The way she studied him made his chest hurt. "What makes you say that?"

"You taste like cinnamon." He licked the spicy sweet taste off his lips. "Still need your big red hit?"

She used to munch on those wrigleys before midterms, a habit he'd never been able to understand. What Emma Swan had to be nervous about when it was obvious to everyone – well, everyone except her – that she was going to ace yet another test.

"You say it as if I'm a drug addict." The clipped tone told him she didn't appreciate him reminiscing.

"That's not what I meant." He shook his head, searching for something to say that would mellow her out. "I found it endearing that you never knew how smart you were." He ran his hands down her arms and smiled softly at her, but she averted her gaze. There was a moment of silence; then he took a deep breath and asked, "Would it help if I say I'm nervous too?"

Emma visibly tensed and looked at him through slitted green eyes. "Don't mock me."

He swallowed past the lump in his throat, his heart twisting painfully at the fact she thought he'd do that. "I'm not." Encircling her wrist with his fingers, Killian gently slid her hand through the opening of his shirt and placed her palm over his heart, letting her feel it pounding wildly in his chest. "See?" he held her gaze.

There was another moment of silence, but it was of a different kind and he watched her eyes softening a bit more with every beat of his heart.

Letting out a shaky breath, Emma backed him against the counter and looked up at him.

The fact that her warm, lush body was now pressed against his and her face was again close enough for him to see the smattering of light freckles on her cheeks, soothed the agitation he'd felt since she'd stepped out of his life.

"You're so beautiful," the back of his fingers brushed across her cheek as he admired her incomparable beauty. How had he lived so long without seeing that face?

The ghost of a smile that touched her lips was enough to get his heart rate kicking up. Then she licked her lips in invitation and he knew there was no going back.

Sealing his mouth over hers in a leisurely tilt of his head, Killian gripped the back of her thighs and hefted her up so he could carry her to bed.

A rush of delight swept through him as she wrapped her legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders. But the ferocity of her reciprocating kiss was what got to him the most and his chest tightened with a yearning he was sure would crush him when she left again.