A/N: Thanks again for all the lovely reviews and follows you've given this story so far. I am SO GLAD this little bit of fluff is making everyone else happy. I hope you enjoy this chapter and what it's building up to. And I am not even going to KIND OF apologize for using one of the oldest tropes in the books here. ;)

Chapter Four
Still Your Mind

Killian hesitated for a breath, a heartbeat, and in that split second, Emma was afraid she'd made a mistake. But then he inhaled, and it was as though he were trying to consume her. His hands cupped either side of her face, his lips slanting over hers eagerly. He took complete control of the kiss, and Emma was only too happy to let him.

Because damn. The boy could kiss.

One of her hands slid up to the back of his neck, fingers finding their way to the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him in until it was as though they were breathing the same breath.

He groaned out her name, his lips trailing away from hers then, down along her jawline. She sucked in a breath, her lashes fluttering as she tilted her head back for him. She'd never, in her wildest dreams, imagined that just kissing him would feel like this.

She'd never imagined that kissing anyone could feel this way. It never had before.

"Come inside?" he was breathing out against her ear, making her shiver in the most amazing way.

She pulled back, looking at him, feeling more than a little dazed. Biting her lip, she nodded with a smile. "Yeah, okay," she said quietly.

He gave her that grin, the one that made her whole body feel like it was turning to liquid, and he slid his hand down her arm, until his fingers were laced with hers, pulling her inside. "Have you lived here long?" Emma asked him, looking around as they stepped inside and he shut the door behind them.

"Awhile," he said, giving her a wicked smirk then, and before she knew it, he had her pushed back against the door, his mouth descending on hers once again. "You want a tour?" he breathed out, lips tracing down her throat then, his fingers tugging at the zipper of her coat.

"Maybe later," she returned, shrugging her coat off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, before she gave herself over to the way it felt to have his lips on her skin.

She felt, rather than heard, him chuckle against her throat, and she pulled back as much as she could, with the door at her back and all of him pressed against her front in a way that was making it hard for her to think about anything else.

"What's so funny?" she asked him, arching a brow.

He shook his head, his hair still a little damp, his stubble tickling her skin. "Nothing's funny, lass," he told her, raising his head to look at her, his blue eyes earnest and serious when they met hers. "Just waiting til I inevitably wake up."

Emma felt the corners of her lips twitching upward. "Oh?" she asked.

"I can't say I haven't thought about ... any of this ... in the past week," he told her, looking down in that adorable, sheepish way he had. "But I didn't think ... "

Emma's brow creased. "I shouldn't have waited," she told him. "I was ... I don't know. An idiot, I guess." She laughed a little, shaking her head. "It's just that ... that day. It was one of the nicest days I've had in as long as I can remember." She looked down. "I guess I got scared. I'm not used to nice days."

He looked at her, his smile genuine and warm, his eyes lighting up, before he leaned in and caught her lips again. "That's a bloody shame, darling," he told her. He pulled back, taking her by the hand again and leading her further into the house. "Perhaps I can fix that."

Emma tilted her head, looking at him with a soft smile, looking around the living room that he'd led her into. It was sparsely decorated. It reminded her a lot of her own apartment in that sense. She didn't want to pry, as curious as she was about him ... she didn't want to ruin whatever this moment was.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked her then, and she nodded.

"Sure. Whatever you've got is fine."

They were in the kitchen then, and instead of reaching for a beer or some other sort of liquor, like she'd expected, he put a tea kettle on the stove. Her brow creased. He never did anything she expected him to. "Tea?" he asked her. "Or would you prefer hot cocoa?" He couldn't resist the teasing look he gave her then.

She rolled her eyes. "You ever going to let that go? So what, I like hot cocoa? And if you've got some, that would be great, actually." She laughed a little, moving to lean against the counter near the stove. "I'm sorry for showing up so late ... I didn't realize you lived so far outside the city. You must have to get up really early every day."

He shrugged, not looking at her as he filled the kettle with water and moved over to the stove. "I don't sleep much, anyway," he said, and she could see the way his brow furrowed. She wanted to reach out to him, but she was afraid to ... overstep. He looked back at her then, after he'd turned the burner on, the blue flame barely licking the bottom of the kettle. "I'm glad you're here," he told her seriously, moving to stand in front of her. "I was afraid I might have blown it with you."

She smiled a small, wistful smile. "No," she whispered, shaking her head, her hand moving to the side of his cheek. "You didn't."

"Good." He licked his lips then, his eyes drifting between her eyes and her lips, before he leaned in and kissed her again, his hands coming to rest at her hips.

Emma's hands moved to his chest, her eyelids falling shut as she gave herself to the moment once more. They stood there like that, lips pressed against lips, mouths slanting hungrily, tongues exploring, his hands roaming along her sides, hers curled in the front of his shirt, until the tea kettle whistled, and even then, they were slow to separate, lips lingering and soft little moans passing their lips.

She didn't think she'd ever kissed someone who was just content to kiss her, who didn't immediately press her for more. And kissing him ... it was a whole other world for her. It made her feel things she hadn't felt before - not even when she'd been young and stupidly thought she was in love with Neal.

Her fingers brushed over her lips when he pulled back, as she watched him pour water into two mugs. He handed her a little packet of powdered hot cocoa mix, scratching the back of his neck adorably. "My apologies, lass, I don't have anything fancier."

Emma smiled at him, leaning in and kissing his cheek. "This is fine," she said, tearing open the package and pouring it into the water. "I drink this at home."

Once their drinks were made, they moved back into the living room, sitting on the couch. He slung his arm over the back of the sofa (around her) and Emma was suddenly acutely aware of how nervous she was about this. She hadn't really planned any of this out. She'd worked up the courage to come here, without really thinking about what it all meant, in reality.

"So ... you said you've lived here awhile?" she asked, blowing on her cocoa before taking a sip. She had one leg curled up underneath her and she was turned so that she was facing him.

"Aye," he agreed, bringing his own tea to his lips. "It was Liam's home, and I inherited it along with the shop."

Emma looked down, nodding. "I see. So you've lived here alone, all this time?"

He smiled sadly, but said nothing. Emma's brow furrowed, but she opted, again, not to push. She figured whatever it was he was keeping quiet about, he must have his reasons for it. Maybe someday he'd trust her enough to tell her.

"And you?" he asked her, nudging her leg with his bare foot then, making her smile. "Have you always lived in the city?"

She shook her head, looking down into her cup. "No. Just in the last few years. I was in Boston before this and ... um, Tallahassee, before that." She didn't feel the need to mention anything before Florida. Like him, she had her own secrets, and she wasn't sure she was ready to divulge them yet. She always feared that people would look at her differently when they found out the truth.

She didn't want that to happen with him.

"Get tired of all that sunshine, did you?" he said lightly, gently teasing her, eyebrow arched over the rim of his mug.

"There just wasn't anything there for me," she said, leaning forward and setting her cocoa down on the coffee table in front of the couch, before turning back to look at him. She knew her eyes must be bright, she could feel the sting of tears behind them. All this time, and the betrayal still stung like it was yesterday. "I was there for two years and it just ... wasn't for me."

He mirrored her actions, setting his own cup down, and then moving closer to her. Without a word, he put his arms around her and pulled her in close, pressing his lips to her temple gently. "Did I mention I'm glad you're here?" he asked her, his voice soft and soothing, near her ear.

She smiled, feeling her heartbeat speed up in her chest as she turned her head, enough so that she could brush her lips over his again. His hand moved to cup her cheek, and he tilted his head, his mouth slanting over hers, gently beseeching. Her hand slid along the silver chain he wore around his neck, and she hooked her index finger behind the pendants there, pulling him closer. He moved as she did, and soon she was on her back beneath him on the couch, his weight gently pushing her against the cushions.

She sighed out against his lips, and he took the opening, his tongue sliding out to taste her lips once more. She shuddered as he slid one hand underneath her sweater, fingertips brushing over her stomach, goosebumps rising on her flesh where he touched.

His lips trailed down her throat once more, his tongue flicking out over her pulse. She gave a soft little cry, her hips bucking up to meet his, feeling him pressing against the juncture there between her thighs.

"God, Emma," he breathed out lowly, brushing his lips along the curve of her jawline, before he pulled back. When she opened her eyes, he was looking down at her with a light in his eyes that felt as though it were burning her, all the way through. He raised one of her hands to his lips, nipping playfully at her fingertips. "You've no idea how much I want you right now," he breathed out, brushing a stray bit of her hair off her brow.

"I think I can hazard a guess," Emma teased him, wiggling her hips a little as if to prove her point.

He groaned, low and throaty, his eyes falling shut. "Bloody minx," he hissed out lowly, kissing her again, more fiercely now, teeth scraping at her bottom lip. He pulled back, once again, his eyes still clenched shut. "I want to do this right."

Emma didn't know what he meant. Like, in a bed? She looked at him, her heart pounding, chest heaving. Her eyes must have been dark with desire, and she knew her lips were red and swollen from his kisses. There was an ache between her thighs that was going to cause her no small amount of frustration.

He opened his eyes then, looking down at her. "You're gorgeous," he murmured, his lips pressing against hers again, and then again, more insistently each time. "I won't be just another lout who uses you, Emma."

Her brow furrowed. How could he possibly know? "Killian?"

He moved to sit up then, pulling her with him, keeping his arms around her, his lips pressed against her hair as he breathed deep. "I want you ... far too much to make this something that we just do because you're here and we're both lonely." He sighed heavily. "I haven't wanted anyone, not like this, in far too long."

Emma swallowed thickly, not knowing how to respond to that. She wasn't used to men who didn't just ... take what they wanted and then left her, feeling lonelier than she'd been when she started.

He looked at her seriously. "I want you to be with me, because you want to be with me."

"Killian ... I do want to ... "

He cut her off by kissing her again. "No, Emma. But you will."

Her brows went up as she leaned back, looking at him. She gave him a bemused little smile. "You don't have ... play the gentleman with me, Killian," she told him. "I am far beyond needing all of that."

He laughed, but it was mirthless, and he leaned in and kissed her forehead. "And that right there is exactly why I do have to. You're worth more than just some quick boff and then it's business as usual." He shook his head. "You're worth much more than that, darling, and I aim to prove it to you."

She felt her breath catch, the tears threatening again. She was completely lost to him, lost to the look in his eyes, to the way he made her feel like nobody ever had. Nobody had ever really bothered to get to know her. And she always thought that that was for the best. If they did ... they would only leave her, just like everyone else. "I'm really not," she told him quietly. "I don't know why you'd waste all this time and effort and all those beautiful flowers on me."

"Your light was on," he told her gently, as if that made perfect sense. She looked at him quizzically. "The first night in a very long time that I looked up, that I broke myself out of my own little world, and my own problems, was the night I saw you. You bloody well may have saved my life, Emma Swan, now it's my turn to return the favor."

"Killian ... " Emma said, looking at him in almost utter disbelief. Surely this was a dream. Men like him weren't real. "I really don't understand how someone like you is alone."

He smiled gently, brushing his thumb over the rise of her cheek. "I'm not alone now," he whispered before he leaned in and kissed her again.

It felt as though they spent the whole night, just like that, hands gently exploring, mouths eager and hungry as they moved together, bodies pressed close. Emma didn't even know if she'd ever just kissed someone for so long without it going further, no matter how much they both wanted it. But somehow that made it better. There was so much to look forward to, and if kissing him was an indicator of things to come ...

God.

She didn't know at what point they stopped kissing, but when her eyes opened, she was stretched out on his sofa - alone - and there was a blanket covering her, and her boots were on the floor next to the couch. There was a thin, grey light streaming in through the windows.

She sat up, looking around, confused for a moment, until she heard the sound of dishes clanging and him moving around in the kitchen. He was humming as he worked, and Emma smiled as she leaned against the doorjamb, watching him. "Morning," she said softly.

He turned and flashed her a grin. "Good morning, love," he said, turning his attention back to the bacon he had frying in the pan. "I hope you're hungry ... I wasn't sure what you like, so I made a bit of everything."

Emma laughed a little, walking up behind him and kissing his shoulder. "Why'd you let me fall asleep?" she asked him, not accusingly.

"It was late and I'm an hour outside the city," he pointed out. "I had every intention of taking you back in when I went to work this morning, but ... " He laughed, gesturing his head toward the sliding glass doors that led out to his back yard - which was really more like ten acres of land.

"Holy shit," Emma said, eyes widening as she looked out over the scene.

Sometime after she'd arrived, the snow had started to fall, and now the whole world outside was white, the thick, heavy flakes still falling. She could barely see more than a few feet out past the door.

She turned back to look at him, arching a brow. "Did you have something to do with this?" she asked him with a wry grin.

"Oh, aye, I got in touch with the weather gods just so I could hold you hostage." He laughed, shaking his head as he turned back to his cooking.

Emma bit her lip, looking back outside, then back at Killian. "Does this happen a lot?"

"Once a year, maybe twice. The plows don't come out on these county roads, so until it lets up ... " He shrugged. "Looks like we're stuck with each other, sweetheart." He smirked at her wickedly. "What should we do?"