Author's note: Things are going to start happening quickly now. And we really start to earn that M rating with this chapter. I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: Still nope.

Chapter 4

Emma peeled off her yoga pants as steam filled the room. If she hurried, she'd have a few hours to read before heading into the diner. Working on her paper was infinitely better than thinking about what happened with Killian the day before. If she was idle too long she could still feel the ghost of his touch on her skin, which then reminded her of the earnest, hopeful look he had when she suggested they could be friends.

It was too much for her to process, so she did what she always did. Buried herself in work.

She spent a long time in the shower, letting the hot water beat down on her pale skin, turning it pink in some places. It soothed her tense muscles and relaxed her. She got out, wrapping a towel around her body and heading back to her room. As she got close, she heard her phone ringing and rushed to answer it, missing the caller by seconds. It was Elsa.

Elsa had gotten involved in designing one of the parade floats for homecoming; she'd spent most of the last week in the backyard of one of the sorority houses helping the sisters make their float. Emma only saw her at night when they were going to bed; she missed her friend. And she had no one to talk to about her Killian situation. Not that there was anything to talk about.

Absolutely not.

Emma sat on her bed and dialed Elsa's number. "Emma?"

"Hey, Elsa. What's up?"

"Um, I know you have to work in a little bit, but do you think you could do me a massive favor?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"We're running low on a few things over here. If I give you a list, could you run to the store and get them? I'd pay you back and everything."

"I can do that. Hold on, lemme get a pen." Emma dug in her desk for a pad and pen, propping it up on her knee. "Okay, shoot." As Elsa spoke, Emma realized that her idea of a few things and Elsa's were very different. Paint, brushes, plaster, colored cardboard, foam board. They needed a lot of stuff. She wondered if it would all fit in her Bug.

They hung up and Emma got dressed, pulling on an old ratty pair of jeans and her least favorite hoodie. A supply run this may be, but if Emma knew her friend, she'd try to get Emma to help...if there was time. Emma threw her diner uniform in her gym bag to take along, just in case.

So much for school work.

She'd been to the art store enough times with Elsa over the years to know where it was. It was properly fall now, the air chilly. She had a jacket on over the hoodie, thankful it wasn't yet cold enough for her beanie. Grabbing a cart, Emma took off her jacket and laid it in the top. She had a feeling she would be in the store for a while.

Emma unfolded her list and got to work. The foam board and colored cardboard was easiest, so she got those first. Next came brushes in all sizes, thick, thin, wide, narrow. Elsa explained how big the float was, so Emma planned accordingly. Buckets of paint went into the cart as well, in all the colors Elsa requested. Emma thought the clerk would have her head when she explained what she needed. She played Angry Birds on her phone while she waited for the paint; it was her one guilty pleasure.

"Emma?"

She looked up, eyes widening. "Killian?"

He smiled shyly, scratching behind his ear. "I have to say this is the last place I ever expected to see you, lass."

"Why? Oh. Right." When did she get so freaking stupid? "I'm getting some things for Elsa."

"Paint and cardboard and brushes?"

"She's helping one of the sororities with their homecoming float."

"Ah. Yes, that could be an excellent avenue for her skills."

"She said something the other day about chicken wire? They've been hoarding newspaper for like a month or something."

"Is plaster on your list as well?"

Emma's brow furrowed. "How did you know?"

"I imagine they'll be covering Elsa's creation with paper mache, reinforcing it with the plaster. As well as some original creations."

"That...would make sense." And now she felt really dense for not picking that up herself. She blamed Killian, standing there dressed more casually than she'd ever seen him. He wore his usual jeans but instead of a dress shirt and vest, he wore a t-shirt with some print she didn't recognize and a blue flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

How was she supposed to focus when he looked like that?

Get a grip, Emma. "Getting some things for yourself?" she asked, intent on changing the subject.

He nodded...were his cheeks pink? "Aye. I went to do some painting and realized I was running low on a few things."

"You paint too?"

He shrugged, cheeks reddening. "A bit. And not very often. I prefer drawing. But the fall is rather spectacular here; I thought I'd give it a go."

"I love watching the leaves change colors," Emma admitted. "It's pretty."

He smirked at her. "We may make an art lover out of you yet, Emma." He glanced away. "Yes, well, I should get going. It was nice to see you."

The clerk had finished putting the paint in her cart at some point; Emma hadn't even noticed. Killian was about twenty steps away when she called after him on impulse.

"Yes, love?"

"How much do you know about that plaster stuff? I don't want to grab the wrong one by mistake." It was only a tiny fib. Really, she could call Elsa and ask her, but he was right here and they were friends now. And friends helped each other out. So what if being around him made her heart beat just a little bit faster, and had her wondering if she'd feel a spark if he touched her.

Not that she wanted him to touch her.

He grinned at her. "Right this way, Emma." Killian guided her through the store, parking her cart in the aisle with the various kinds of plaster. As they walked up and down, Emma thought much better of her decision to ask him, as she hadn't a clue. He used that soft hypnotic voice to explain the various types to her, what they were used for. Emma nodded and asked only a few questions, trusting his judgment when he put some in the cart for her.

Emma looked over her list again. "I think that's everything. I should get this stuff over to Elsa before I need to get to work."

"Work? Are you sharing your skills with someone else, love?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "I work at Granny's diner a few days a week. Starving college student and all that."

"Aye, I've heard of it. She's a very...formidable woman."

Emma chuckled. "Yeah. But she's fair though. And gives me plenty of time for my schoolwork, so it's good." By silent agreement, they headed for the checkout, Killian helping her with her massive load. She waited for him as he paid for his own items, lingering by the door. She shrugged into her jacket, allowing Killian to hold open the door for her.

"Is this yours?" Killian asked as they approached the Bug.

"Yep." Emma loved her little yellow Bug, even though it was sometimes a hassle to maintain. She'd paid for it herself, just before starting school.

"It's a bit...small?"

"Hey!"

"Merely an observation, lass. I'm sure it's...adequate for your needs." And Jesus Christ, he did that voice dropping thing again, making that sound way dirtier than it should.

"It's plenty adequate, buster," she retorted, hoping he didn't see the way her cheeks heated up. Damn him. She was not some blushing virgin for crying out loud.

Her Bug was a classic with the engine in the back and the trunk in the front. Together they loaded her items into it, trying to arrange things so they wouldn't spill.

"It's not that far," Emma said absently. "Should be okay til I get there."

"I wish Elsa well in her enterprise," Killian said, pushing the cart into the corral for her. "Monday?"

Emma nodded. "Yeah. Monday."

"You'll do just fine, Emma. It's not that different."

She nodded, trying to ignore the sudden butterflies in her stomach. After almost three weeks, she would finally be posing completely nude. While she trusted Killian to keep the class as normal as possible, she couldn't help being a bit nervous about it.

"Well. I should go," she said lamely. "Thanks for your help, Killian."

"It was my pleasure, love." They waved goodbye and Emma climbed into her Bug. Her thought as she drove away? Elsa owed her. Big time.

Emma woke up Monday morning to a nervous stomach. After showering (again—she showered before going to bed the night before), she started to dress in her usual sports bra and boy shorts and realized with a start they were unnecessary. She could wear whatever undergarments she wished, since no one would be seeing them.

Not as comforting a thought as one would think.

But what did she have to be nervous about? What difference did showing a bit more skin make? She wasn't ashamed of her body. Like most people, she had a some things she didn't like, a few scars, but she enjoyed working out and it showed. She could handle this.

She grabbed a banana on her way out, bag over her shoulder. She went through her usual routine, driving to campus, listening to some of her favorite music. She switched to her earbuds as she walked to the library for some reading time. She got caught up on some of the work that she missed over the weekend, as helping Elsa turned out to be exactly the project she expected.

At nine thirty she left for the art building.

Killian wasn't there when she arrived.

Emma's eyes flickered to the platform where she would be in less than a half hour. She'd done this more than a dozen times now. No reason this should be different. She decided to settle in the chair behind Killian's desk and read until he showed up.

The earbuds in her ears caused her to miss him, hence she jumped about a mile when he touched her shoulder. "Jesus, you scared the crap out of me!"

He looked a bit sheepish. "Sorry. I tried talking but you didn't hear me."

Emma hastily ripped the earbuds out of her ears. "Oops." She finally looked up at him properly. "You brought coffee?"

Killian smiled and nodded. "What was it you got that day? Some cinnamon concoction?"

He remembered? Emma accepted the cup and took a sip. Sure enough, it was the same drink. "Thanks."

Killian scratched behind his ear again. "Aye, well, it can get cold up there. I thought you'd appreciate the warmth. You know, as a friend."

"Right! Yeah."

"How did Elsa's creation turn out?"

Emma took another long pull from her cup. "Good, I think. She appreciated the plaster I got, so good call on that."

His lips quirked up teasingly. "You're welcome."

As they talked, students slowly started to drift in. The second hand on the clock in the back of the room glided closer and closer to 10:05. When it read 10:00, Emma stood up. "I should get changed." She couldn't look him in the eye as she left, bag up on her shoulder again. She hurried behind the screen and froze. Was she really going to do this? Sit there under the light...naked...and let people draw her?

Emma rolled her eyes at herself. She was being ridiculous.

She stripped off her clothes as she always did, her fingers shaking only a tiny bit as she slid her panties down her legs and unhooked her bra. She shivered a little until she slipped the robe on, the soft fabric gliding over her skin. It was reassuring; she'd done this plenty of times.

Then she stepped out from behind the screen.

Killian's back was to her; he was facing his students. "Today we are moving beyond gesture drawings. This is where we will see what you have learned. These longer studies depend on close observation and concentration." He turned, glancing at Emma. "As always, you are all adults. I expect you to act like it." He nodded at Emma. "Whenever you are ready, Miss Swan."

Emma nodded, unable to speak. She swallowed and gathered her courage, slowly untying the belt of the robe. With her head held high, she parted the cloth and shrugged it off her shoulders, tossing it to the side as she always did. A few pairs of eyes widened, but there was no other reaction she could see. Quickly, Emma lay in the sheet covered chaise, her pose classic and dignified. At least she hoped it was.

Her heart was hammering about a mile a minute, her mind carrying on an internal debate on whether or not she should even look at Killian.

That question was answered for her, as he placed himself directly in her line of vision.

They stared at each other across the space, Emma swallowing again. Killian's blue eyes—the ones that saw through her to an unnerving degree—were scorching. She could feel her body getting warmer under the scrutiny of his gaze. She couldn't look away even though she knew she should. He had her transfixed; intense gaze, muscle twitching in his jaw, nostrils flaring...oh god, his tongue wetting his lips.

Suddenly it got very hard to breathe.

He was going to hell.

Killian wasn't an especially religious person but if hell did exist, then he had a one way ticket.

He was supposed to be a professional, damn it. He was supposed to be going around observing, instructing. But he couldn't move. All he could do was stare at the glorious perfection that was Emma Swan.

He spent all weekend trying to think of something—anything—else than what awaited him on Monday. Finding her at the art store had not helped. Well, it had a little. She was so cute in her hoodie and jeans, a far cry from the siren that haunted his dreams. But they were friends now and friends weren't supposed to see each other naked.

He'd been around nude models since his own school days; none of them affected him the way she did. Not even Milah. Milah never posed for him; all of his sketches were done from memory. Models came and went; it was the nature of the thing. But Emma...

If he wasn't so focused on not reacting, he would have found some amusement from the pose she'd chosen. Clearly, she'd paid more attention to the art history book than he'd given her credit for. Venus of Urbino. Of course.

She was trying to torture him.

But perhaps she wasn't? It was possible that he was the only one affected. That she felt nothing.

He could have almost convinced himself of that...until their eyes locked.

She looked as conflicted as he felt, her glittering emerald eyes staring right back at him. Her breathing was shallow; Killian unconsciously gripped the edge of the chair he stood by as his eyes roamed her body. Her golden hair piled on top of her head, the curve of her cheek, the slight pout to her lips. Her arm propped up on some white pillows, displaying the fullness of her breasts. He itched to have some charcoal in his hand to trace the graceful line of her stomach, the way her hips flared slightly. Her tiny delicate hand covered her most private place (for the moment) while her shapely legs stretched out, one tucked slightly under the other.

There was a faint flush on her usually pale skin, but her face was calm. He detected slight nervous tick of her pinky where it lingered over her sex; it took all of his willpower not to smile.

Those were only his initial impressions.

After staring far longer than he should have, Killian finally moved, pretending to be observing his students. Each time he looked back at Emma he focused on a different part, like he was trying to imprint her on his retinas. He noticed her gradually calm, her innate poise shining through, although she did lick her lips once or twice. He had to look away, lest his reaction betray him.

He noticed other things about her. A round scar on her sternum, just above the swell of her breast, the skin shiny under the light. There was another on her right wrist, the skin puckered slightly. Where had those come from?

Killian looked at the clock; they were approximately thirty minutes into the lesson. Emma hadn't moved; it was time for a break. Killian took a deep breath and swallowed, digging in his bag for the masking tape. He got the class's attention as he marched up to the platform.

Emma's gaze flickered upward but she didn't move. She did incline her head slightly as he flashed the tape. He wasn't about to touch her without her permission. Do not let your eyes wander, he admonished himself as he tore at the tape. He marked the place on her hip where her left elbow rested, fingers quick and sure as he pressed the tape to her skin. He did the same for the tip of her finger on her thigh...bloody hell, he could feel how warm she was. The room had to be chilly for her, but her skin was flushed...and her nipples puckered.

Why did he look?

Killian heard Emma swallow as he placed the last pieces of tape, marking where her right hand rested, near her breast. After that, he withdrew hastily, hopping down from the platform, snatching his sketchpad from his bag and leaving, not stopping until he got to the landing.

His heart was racing as he sat unceremoniously on the hard steps. What was he going to do? He couldn't fire her; she hadn't done anything wrong. They were supposed to be friends; he shouldn't be leering at her. But he couldn't stop the images of her laid out before him, his hands wandering those luscious curves freely. His tongue on her smooth skin. Then reproducing her on the page, preserved forever. Wait, that was something he could do.

Killian plucked a piece of charcoal from his pocket and flipped open the sketchbook. It was his second of the semester, the first time that had ever happened. His fingers moved rapidly, with sure strokes as he sketched her from memory.

It helped. A little. It was imperfect; what he really wanted was her posing solely for him. As he couldn't have that, this would have to do.

He returned to class ten minutes after he left, calling them to order and taking his place in the back. He had to stay as far away from her as possible if he had any hope of functioning like a rational human being. When class was over, Emma waved her farewell, offering him a tentative smile.

What the hell did that mean?

After his second class, Killian went straight home. He promptly changed his clothes and went out for a run, trying to get his head back on straight. The crisp fall air made his lungs burn a bit as he ran, but it was good. It reminded him of silly boyhood games with Liam, Killian trying to outrun his older and taller brother.

Loneliness hit him like a freight train. He hadn't made many friends, was content to keep to himself. Milah's betrayal made him wary of trusting people, especially other artists. He was on good if distant terms with his colleagues; he didn't have anyone to confide in about his feelings for Emma. Feelings he shouldn't even have in the first place.

But he didn't want to confide in anyone. Whatever was going on with her...it felt private. Like they were the only people who understood each other. Killian was almost certain now that she was attracted to him as well; all he could do now was pray they had enough self control to get through the rest of their time together.

He didn't want to think about what would happen when she was gone for good, as she must be when the semester ended.

Killian was awake until well after midnight, spending most of his time down in his studio, just drawing. If there was one positive from his confused and muddled feelings, it was this. He enjoyed creating again. And no matter what, he'd be grateful for that.

Finally, unable to keep his eyes open, he wandered to his room, stripping to his boxers before climbing into bed...

He was too hot. His skin tingled, little licks of flame trailing from her touch. Killian kept his eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to ruin the moment. The moment where Emma was touching him at last.

Her hands toyed with the hair on his chest, tracing the contours of his pecs, nails scratching over his nipples. He groaned, the sensation far more pleasurable than he expected. He licked his lips, a soft sigh escaping. Emma chuckled, her nimble fingers sliding over his ribs, down, down until reaching the V of his hips.

"Hmmm," she hummed. Then he felt her warm tongue on his skin and he yelped, a curse tumbling from his lips. He couldn't believe this was real, that she was actually with him...he reached blindly, hands finding her hair, finally feeling the long silken tresses between his fingers. He opened his eyes.

"Emma."

She smirked up at him, lowering her head. Killian's moan of pleasure would have been embarrassing if he'd given a damn. But he couldn't, not when he finally knew what this felt like. Emma licking at him, suckling along his cock, those pretty pouting lips wrapping around him as she took him into her mouth. Her head bobbing, green gaze locked with his as he climbed higher and higher...just a little more...

Killian jerked awake with a gasp, his body betraying him. He was still aroused, cock peaking out from the waistband of his boxers. "Bloody fuck," he swore, rolling onto his back. He sagged into the mattress, simultaneously disgusted and turned on. Now he was having dirty dreams about her. That was just fucking spectacular.

He hadn't had an erotic dream in a very long time; somehow he knew this was different. This felt all too real, even though he and Emma had only shared the most fleeting of contact. He desperately wanted to know how she would feel, how they would explore each other's bodies. He groaned as he shifted, the material of his boxers rubbing over hard aching flesh.

Of its own volition his hand shoved the offending cloth down, exposing his cock to the air. Killian hissed, palming himself. If he was going to hell anyway...he might as well enjoy it. He let his mind wander, imagining it was Emma there with him, it was her hand teasing him. Her touch was light, fingertips tracing the length of him, stroking the sensitive place just below the head. Killian moaned, hips rocking up off the bed. Desire pounded through his veins, making his body tingle.

He imagined it was Emma's hand wrapping around him, thumb skimming the leaking tip. Her free hand reaching down to fondle his balls. Killian planted his feet on the bed, rocking his hips up, still moving slowly, in no hurry just yet. It had been a long time since this was anything but mechanical, something he did to scratch an itch. He was doing that now, but this time he had an object for his desires. Someone that made him feel where he had been so very cold.

"Emma," he murmured, hand increasing speed, just a fraction. He licked his lips, picturing her there, her golden hair tumbling down her back, a few locks hanging over her shoulder, the tips tickling his stomach as she stroked him. Would she put her mouth on him? He hissed, a perfect image of her taking him inside her warm wet mouth. She'd be warm, his Emma. So fiery and full of life. He moaned again, hips jerking, pressure building.

"Bloody hell," he hissed, his fist moving faster, twisting in the way he liked. He was so close, he could almost taste his orgasm, blood rushing in his ears. He imagined Emma, head bobbing, tongue licking and swirling, cheeks hollowed out as she sucked him down.

"Fuck!" he roared, pure bliss consuming him as he came, the wet stickiness of his release dripping over his fingers, spurting over his stomach. He jerked until he was spent, collapsing back into the mattress, panting. His eyes fell closed as the mental flagellation began before he even caught his breath. He couldn't want her. He shouldn't want her. But he did.

It was worse now than ever before.

Sighing heavily, he went to the bathroom and cleaned up. Then he tried to go back to sleep. He didn't have any classes on Tuesdays, which was lucky since he didn't fall asleep properly again until dawn. He merely tossed and turned, beating his pillow into a variety of lumpy shapes.

When he woke up it was past noon, his stomach growling. After a quick shower, he scoured his kitchen for something to eat. He was still mulling his options when his phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Killian?"

It was Liam; Killian sighed. "Who else would it be?"

"You don't sound well, brother."

"I'm fine. Slept late."

"Working on some masterpiece, I expect."

Killian forced a laugh. "Something like that."

"Did you forget about the match?"

Killian's brow knitted together. There was a match? Huh? Then he remembered. Manchester United against some Turkish squad for the Champions League. He and Liam watched those together, even an ocean apart. Football was the thing that kept them connected, an obsession they both shared.

"No, I didn't forget," he lied. "Was just getting some snacks together."

"Right," Liam said. He sounded skeptical. "Well, you best hurry, they're off in about ten."

They hung up so Killian could get his food together. Now that he had something to do, he moved with purpose, bringing a beer and some crisps and dip into his living room. He switched on the telly and flipped to the soccer channel. He had to pay extra for it, but it was worth it. Once he was settled, he called his brother on Skype. It was much cheaper than the phone bill.

"So what do you think our chances are today?" he asked. Talking about football would keep Liam from asking too many questions about Killian's personal life. Or trying to revisit the topic of Christmas. He wasn't keen on either.

Liam was still giving a long winded run down of the Red Devils' injuries when the match started. Their attention moved to their televisions, Killian munching on his snacks. Cursing and cheering and finger pointing were common during these sessions as both brothers were passionately invested in their team.

"Are you sure everything is alright?" Liam asked when the match ended. United won 3-2, but Killian should have known his stubborn older brother wouldn't be deterred.

"Everything's fine. Just busy."

"You look tired, Killian."

"You know you can't tell the sodding difference over the computer, you ponce."

Liam rolled his eyes. "Whatever, little brother. But you know if there was something wrong, all you have to do is call."

Killian's attitude softened. Liam may annoy him with his overprotectiveness, but his brother did care. "I know. You're a good brother, Liam."

"Don't you forget it."

Killian chuckled. "I promise. I'm really fine. The semester's going really well."

"Well, I'm happy for you then. Molly says hello, by the way."

"Where is she?" Molly was his brother's wife; Killian liked her.

"Dinner with friends. Didn't want to be around in case we lost."

"You should call and tell her the coast is clear. I'm sure she'll appreciate not having to coddle your sorry arse."

Liam glared through the screen. "One of these days, Killian..."

"But not today."

"Go draw something."

"I love you too, Liam." They hung up, Killian closing the laptop with a snap. He cleaned up his mess then headed down to his studio. For once, he would take his brother's advice.