Warning: this chapter contains explicit sexual content.

Chapter 10

Oh if only it were that simple.

Ever since the incident at the restaurant, the dam broke and all the repressed thoughts and feelings flooded her system; body and mind. The more Emma looked, the more beautiful Regina became. And boy, was it hard to stop looking.

She started noticing those little things, traits that made Regina, if possible, even more attractive. For instance, the pursing of her lips when reading, or the way she kept fixing her glasses, even when they hadn't budged an inch. But Emma's favorite was and remained Regina's obsession with her posture. Sitting in front of the computer all day long had its own tiring effects and the brunette was no exception. Inevitably so, Regina's stance would slouch and upon noticing it, she immediately would straighten up, her expression of a deer caught in the headlights, as if waiting to be reproached. That was when blonde had to duck her head and keep her smile at bay.

Emma was trapped in a place beyond saving; She was into Regina Mills.

And that admission, even if just in her own mind, was a first for Emma. Emma, who doesn't remember ever being into someone. She was used to being approached and allowing things to happen, letting Neal take her out on a makeshift date (if you consider some burgers at the nearby deli a date that is), accepting a drink from the guy at the bar. She was never to one to initiate, and more like accepted the attention, even if not necessarily a wanted one.

That desire for that specific someone made itself known even in sleep-realm, and for the first time in her eighteen years of living, Emma has a sex dream. Or at least that is what she assumes. She doesn't remember much of it, just shoots up in her bed, sweaty, aroused and heavily breathing. She can't recall the details of the dream, but one brunette was definitely there.

She kicks her blanket off just to retrieve it a moment later, to then push it away again. Relenting when she finally realizes the itch can't be ignored, Emma sends a hand between her thighs. A gasp soon turns to a moan when fingers brush against slick swollen folds. With the pulses of pleasure stronger than ever before, the blonde can't hold back the throaty noises that escape. Touching herself has never felt like that before, her center was never that sensitive. At that moment, a clear picture appears in her head, making her muscles clench.

In spite of the warnings that flash in her head, Emma decides to let herself have this fantasy.

Just this once.

She closes her eyes and lets the images fill her head, pictures of Regina floating in front of her closed eyelids.

Regina in her tight blue dress, with a zipper starting at her thighs and ending at the back of her neck.

Slow circles around her bundle, not touching just yet.

Regina with a black pencil skirt, tight around her ass, rising slightly when she sits down, exposing smooth skin.

Getting closer to the center, fingers drawing smaller circles.

Regina with a white button-up shirt, two upper buttons open, the third one on its way to pop out...

Deliberate motions, slow and accurate and toe-curling.

...with the black lace bra, an ample cleavage peeking from underneath.

Fingers circling her clit, pressuring to the point of eye-rolling.

Regina licking her lips and biting it.

Faster.

Regina laughing with her glasses on, humming.

Harder.

A picture of Regina with her eyes closed, her back arched and...

A throaty, prolonged moan escapes, as her eyes close and her back arches painfully. Biting her lip, Emma waits for the waves of pleasure to dissipate. Body finally limp and boneless, Emma lays still and waits for the exhaustion to take over.

April rolls over, and with it the realization that Emma can't forget Regina, no matter how hard she tries. Though it doesn't stop her from putting a ridiculous amount of effort on avoiding the woman at all costs. That plan, of course, only partially beneficial; there is no ignoring the boss with whom she works on the same project, all while sitting right outside her office.

Around noon, Regina stops by.

"Emma"

She wants to stay hidden so badly, but Regina is her boss. She swallows hard, the lump still present in her throat, and looks up.

"Yes," she clears her throat "How may I help you?"

Her tone blank enough to urge an arch of eyebrow from her superior.

"I need to speak with you today. Unfortunately my schedule is packed, would you mind sticking around after hours? It's pretty important."

Emma doesn't work on Fridays and so she nods.

"Err, sure, I guess."

"Good"

The clock shows 6:30 pm.

Emma hasn't been able to concentrate since 6 pm. The minute the office started to empty Emma was left with her thoughts and doubts. Was she in trouble? Did Regina notice her recent change of behavior? Did she finally do a one plus one on the whole restaurant thing?

The blonde is getting worked up, foot jumping nervously as she waits.

At 19:30 the door finally opens, confusion soon takes over when Regina steps out, her coat and bag in hand. This is enough for Emma to question herself, wondering whether she had heard wrong.

But then Regina smiles apologetically at her.

"I'm sorry it took so long, I got held"

"It's okay" motioning towards the bag and the coat in the brunette's hands, she asks "Would you like to reschedule?"

Regina follows her line of sight, pausing for a short moment.

"Oh no, of course not. It is just very late and I have to admit that I am quite famished. Would you join me for dinner, Emma? We could discuss our matters there."

Despite knowing the strictly professional reasoning behind it, Emma can't stop her body from going into sensory overload. Regina and her, just the two of them, in a restaurant, at night. It's not a date, but at the same the time it is.

What is she going to say? What if it's some sort of bad news? She can't just storm out of the restaurant.

Oh lord.

"Emma?"

She's snatched out of her reverie.

"Err, yeah sure." she mumbles. What could she possibly say to that? No, Regina. I wouldn't like to have the dinner with the most striking woman, one that I have a huge crush on for weeks now?

"Good. Do you like Italian?"

Don't mess up, don't mess up, don't mess up.

That is the only thought going through her mind the whole time. Emma has the tendency to put her foot in her mouth often, and she needs to prevent that from happening tonight.

The restaurant they are in is very nice, but, luckily, not too fancy. Regina looks almost regal sitting in the soft leather chairs, and next to her, Emma feels like a stray dog. She looks at the menu, utterly clueless.

For years now, Emma likes to refer to herself as a professional eater, yet this menu equals to trying to read in gibberish. Before she has any chance of embarrassing herself by ordering some weird-ass fancy food, she admits defeat.

"Any recommendations?"

Regina looks up at her, her expression thoughtful.

"What do you like to eat?"

"Everything" she blurts out automatically.

Regina is taken aback for just a second, then, she laughs; a real laugh, one with teeth and wrinkles around her warm chocolate eyes, that makes Emma's stomach squeeze.

"Well," she clears her throat "I heard the lasagna here is superb"

"Lasagna it is, then."

"You don't talk much, do you?"

It's half observation, half question, and Emma isn't sure how to respond. Regina waits patiently, sipping on her red wine, eyes fixed on Emma the entire time.

"Not so much to tell, I guess" she shrugs, not quite sure how she feels about the attention she is suddenly receiving.

"I'm sure it's not true" the brunette counters gently, a tone that, surprisingly, suits her.

"Well, nothing good anyway…"

"Still"

Emma, still oblivious to where Regina is going with it, decides to indulge her with some information.

"What would you like to know?"

The brunette swirls the burgundy liquid, identical to the color of her lips.

"Whatever you feel like telling."

She muses, gracefully kicking the ball to Emma's side. Twitching a little in her seat, Emma gives it a go.

"I'm a foster kid, always had been. Moved around quite a bit and ditched the place the minute I turned eighteen. That's it, I guess."

When she sees her companion's eyebrow arch she quickly adds "Told you, boring"

"Not to me" the brunette determines, promoting a rush of warmth in Emma's chest.

"What about you? You don't talk much either"

Regina makes a non-committal, very uncharacteristic, noise.

"I'm a very private person."

"And why is that?"

The brunette looks surprised at the question "Why is that?" she echoes, earning a nod from Emma.

"Yes, I mean, you are part of a very high-profiled family. They are all very public and yet when I googled you I came up with nothing."

"When you googled me?" Regina repeats with gleaming eyes and a hint of a smile.

Realizing what she had just let slip is enough to turn Emma's cheeks to crimson.

"Yes, I mean-" she clears her throat and Regina's smirk grows wider "when I came to the company I wanted to know everything so I searched you…" she babbles, the last part almost inaudible.

"Yes, I suppose it makes sense" the brunette hums in response and Emma looks up just in time for her to add "Of course it would have been far more convincing had you managed to keep the stammer of you talking and the blush off your face."

Emma sighs, defeated "It's true" she insists but it sounds weak, even to her.

"Don't beat yourself over it, dear" Regina says, her tone amused "I find you inability to lie endearing."

The waiter arrives with their food, efficiently halting their conversation, that is long forgotten the minute Emma takes the first bite.

"God" she moans when she's met with the exquisite taste.

"Do you like it?"

"Mmm" the blonde confirms with her mouth full.

Regina seems satisfied with that answer and they continue to eat in silence.

But not so long after, Emma comes to a point where she feels like she can't take not knowing any longer.

Emma has the tendency to assume the worst in every situation, which isn't her fault, considering her past and that she was constantly handed the worst cards in the deck, ever since birth. A few months of good luck can't change the years of bad luck. That's why, she is still finding herself expecting the worst. And that moment is no different, Emma simply can't shake the feeling that this conversation is going to end badly.

"So," she takes a deep breath, opting on getting it out of the way as quickly as possible, just like ripping a band-aid "Are you going to make me wait all throughout this meal to tell me I'm fired?"