Chapter 12: "seized that opportunity"

Emma can't wait for the rehearsal to be finally over. In her excitement, she had arrived at the Music Hall much sooner than she had planned - luckily there's a comfortable-looking couch in the corner of the reception area, so she doesn't have to stand there like an idiot.

She plops down on the cushions and stares at the closed doors leading to the main stage.

Killian has no idea she's here. They talked about him coming over later today, but Emma wants to surprise him instead. For the evening, a big family movie night was planned again, but she doesn't think Killian would mind skipping it this time. (They would have watched a Disney movie Killian has already seen anyway).

Her lips pull into an involuntary smile. Originally, she only wanted Killian to watch one fairy tale because she didn't want to believe he hadn't seen Anastasia - and then it turned out neither Killian nor David has seen more than two Disney movies in their lives. To Mary Margaret's urging, they made it a tradition to hold movie nights every other Saturday. On their third movie night, Liam and Elsa joined them too.

One of Emma's favorite moments was when David called Snow White a "hot chick" and Mary Margaret's eyes comically narrowed at him before she playfully punched him in the shoulder. Or when Killian told them that, while he may have not seen The Jungle Book before, he knew the musical well from playing Mowgli in high school. To prove it, he enthusiastically demonstrated a wolf howl to prove it, then, along with David and Liam, started singing an excerpt from Aladdin. The girls laughed so loud at them that Emma almost fell off the couch.

Emma felt - without any exaggeration - that the last week and a half had been the best time of her life, including her meeting with Harold to accepted her late mother's money. She was still torn and quite apprehensive about it, but when she inquired about what would happen to the money if she didn't accept it, Harold explained that her mother had requested the total amount be divided between her other remaining relatives.

Emma felt it right to transfer a part of her share to a foundation benefiting orphans. She hasn't touched the remaining money yet - in fact, the amount currently resting in her bank account is still a bit incomprehensible and unbelievable to her. She had never had that much money in her life at once.

It's perplexing. And freaking awesome.

Mary Margaret offered that she didn't have to work in the gallery anymore if she doesn't want to. She told her that she didn't mind, since now Emma's options had expanded - she could do what she wants, like open the private investigation office she'd always wanted.

But, for now at least, she is happy to help out her future sister-in-law. Besides, the gallery turned out really nice and it feels good to be there. They also figured out that Emma can contribute with special souvenirs - she has plenty of ideas, and she likes to doodle and mess around with creative stuff like that anyway.

So she's staying at the store for now.

They will finally open on Monday, and Emma is just as excited as Mary Margaret.

There won't be a big opening ceremony or anything like that, they will take the newsprint off the windows and front door, and finish up decorating the showcase.

Though, truth be told, at this moment, Emma's restlessness and impatience has nothing to do with the gallery.

How long has she been sitting on this rather uncomfortable couch? How much longer does she have to wait?

She scans her surroundings in anticipation and excitement, her heart playing a sharp staccato in her chest. She can't spot a clock anywhere, so she digs for her phone in the pocket of her coat and checks the time, noting with disappointment that there's at least half an hour left of the rehearsal.

Why is it that when you want to rush time, it just stubbornly and deliberately moves slowly? And when you want to enjoy a moment it flies away quicker than a toupee in a hurricane?

To pass the time, she opens her text messages. Even though Killian - by his own admission - doesn't like texting, they've exchanged quite a lot of messages over the last week and a half, and - not counting their first and Killian's drunk SMS - most of it wasn't even initiated by her.

It's weird that certain things are easier to say in writing than in person - at least that's the case for Emma.

She scrolls through their messages with a smile on her lips - it's not the first time she's done that, she actually knows every one of them by heart now, (not that she would ever admit that to anyone), but reading them over and over somehow feels different from just simply recalling the memories attached to it.

You were dreaming about me yesterday

Did you like it?

You remember it?

I could never forget even if I wanted to…

I liked it

Emma knows she must be grinning like a madwoman at her phone, but she can't stop thinking about how this exchange turned out and the different kinds of emotions swimming in his ultramarine eyes whenever she chanced a glance at him from the other end of the couch. Especially when she remembers that it was during a movie night and David spotted them not paying attention to the TV at all. When her brother noticed she was chatting with Killian he couldn't stop his teasing 'Are you sexting now? Are we in high school again? Why don't you just go upstairs?'

Emma cracked a smile at Killian over her phone and, surprisingly, she didn't have a snappy comeback. At the moment, she would have really preferred to just drag Killian to her bedroom…

She scrolls further.

The couch just arrived. Would you, perhaps, like to christen it? Let's say, tonight?

What exactly do you mean by 'christen'?

This and that ;)

I think I christened that unfortunate couch enough in the store.

Oh no, you haven't nearly seized that opportunity, believe me, Swan. I'll be happy to show you what you missed…

Of course, she knew what he was referring to, and that's probably the reason why she didn't answer him after that. As she now recalls their couch hunting expedition, she can barely hold back a laugh bubbling out of her.

Encouraged by Killian but still a little wary, she took off her shoes and climbed atop their chosen couch. She paused when he started jumping, but after a second she joined him with a laugh, feeling like a mischievous child. A salesman started to hurry towards them, and Emma glanced at Killian with worry in her eyes, but Killian only mouthed a "trust me" at her with a wink. When the salesman reached them and asked them to stop misusing the couch, but Killian smoothly explained - in his most serious tone - that he and his wife were planning to have a child and simply cannot buy a couch that is not built to withstand some exercise. Emma barely noticed the poor salesman's widened eyes and color-drained face - she was more occupied with the fact that Killian just called her his wife.

Only just a few months ago, hearing that word addressed to her would have made her run faster than the speed of light. But now - hearing it from him - it felt like something incredibly thrilling, like something hopeful and joyful was tickling the very depth of her soul.

The salesman - after acknowledging the correctness of Killian's argument and giving a ten-minute speech about what his own kids can do to their couch - left them there with a smile, telling them to ask for help if they need any. Emma - in the heat of their little play and high she got from being his fake-wife - almost blurted out that they were planning for more than one child, so she would be really grateful if they could continue their little test of durability.

Emma dismisses the memory with a dainty shake of her head and turns her attention back to the messages.

Will you come over tonight?

No.

These kinds of texts are repeated quite often. Killian asks this question practically every day - sometimes several times a day, always with different wording, of course. And she always replies the same. He never asks about her reluctance and, Emma suspects, it's because he's afraid of the answer. Maybe he's worried that her reply would be that she doesn't want to break her vow she scribbled on her New Year's list.

But it isn't true at all.

Still, a warmth spreads through her chest at the thought of Killian respecting her decision.

He never once tried to seduce her - of course, they've been kissing, which is hot and fantastic and that man can kiss, but - not counting their mutual oral satisfaction - they never went further than that. Or much further - sometimes his hand starts exploring, but Emma always stops him. And when her hands start wandering, he stops her. In fact, it slowly turned into a strange game of self-control for them - though it stands to reason; if she had spent even one night at his place, she would have certainly lost it. That's why she always says no.

But today...today she just doesn't want to say no.

Truth be told, the damned book that Belle had given her was to blame. She has no idea why she decided to start reading it today. She was with Killian the whole day, then he had to leave for the rehearsal, and she decided to join David and Mary Margaret for a movie downstairs. But they were watching a series she had no interest in, and her thoughts kept drifting off to Killian and how their bet would expire tomorrow, which awakened an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Their bet somehow provided a foundation for her, an opportunity that even if she screws everything up, there would still be a chance to make amends at the charity ball. But it really looks like he is going to win and if that happens...then what if her own stupidity pushes him so far away that he won't likely return?

Emma is convinced that Killian is the best thing that has ever happened to her. She doesn't want to mess up, but she doesn't trust herself. And then there's also Killian's fear, which - as the days go by - she starts to feel as her own too, even if she tries to ignore it.

Then that stupid book found its way into her hands. At first, she just looked at it, like it was calling to her - it was a really strange feeling. Emma picked it up and flipped mindlessly through the pages, reading only a line or a paragraph, and even though she had already read it years ago as a teenager, now everything she felt at that age came rushing back. How angry she was at Scarlett for not noticing what was in front of her nose, for clinging to something so stupid, for running out of time...and as she got to that train of thought, Emma felt that with her constant procrastination, she's bound to slip out of time either.

If she was honest with herself, in the end her decision had nothing to do with the book, it only set her thoughts on this particular path. Emma has no idea why she thinks their bet is some sort of deadline - although it doesn't really make sense to fight their desire any longer. They have to face their fears head-on, so they can be together without any hesitancy or concern afterward.

She knows this is just as important to Killian as it is to her.

She scrolls further, trying to divert her thoughts away from this grim and difficult path. She smiles right away at the next chain of messages.

She remembers this day well. Emma had agreed to meet with him at his place before they were off to a diner Killian discovered nearby, persuading her to join him on a dinner date by telling her it sells her favorite combination of grilled cheese with onion rings and hot chocolate. She arrived a bit earlier than discussed, having finished at the gallery quicker than she had planned. His front door was unlocked, so she let herself in, but was not prepared for an almost naked Killian, singing a song from one of her favorite bands as he was getting dressed. In the middle of his living room. She got a glorious view of his ass as he reached the chorus of the song, pulling his boxers up in the process. Her half-choked laughter made him turn around and even though his more than fine chest was on display for her to ogle, her attention was drawn by his crimson turning cheeks and elf-like ears. She has never seen him look more embarrassed.

She was half-teasing him that night when she got back home and texted him.

Would you sing that song again sometime?

If my bare arse interests you that much, you need only ask ;)

Do you make this offer to every girl?

No, this right belongs to you. Exclusively.

I'm honored, sir.

Whenever you like.

Whenever I like what?

Did the thought of my backside make you forget your original question already, Swan?

Why deny that her answer was yes, but of course, Emma didn't write this to him - she thought it better to end the conversation there. Though what came next - the next day might she add - wasn't exactly surprising.

Are you on birth control?

Where the hell did this question come from?

I don't much like condoms.

And how did that occur to you right now?

I thought about you :)

And I remind you of condoms?

No. It reminds me that I want you. And then I imagine what it would be like. And when I reach a certain point I start to wonder whether we would need a condom.

We wouldn't.

That's good. I won't buy a package, then.

You wanted to buy a package?

It crossed my mind…:)

The noise of slowly approaching footsteps against marble shakes Emma out of her thoughts. She glances up and finds herself face to face with Aurora. She takes a quick once over at Emma's attire with a gracefully raised eyebrow and a smile turned grimace, tilting her head to the side.

She is currently wearing her "happy-jeans" - she's really proud of how it turned out.

"How original," Aurora notes, her tone mocking.

"Right?" Emma flashes her best fake smile. "Killian helped me make it."

Emma is not an idiot, nor is she naïve enough to think the mahogany haired woman actually likes her pants. Just a glance at her current outfit tells her the opposite - high-heels, colorful stockings, knitted skirt, and a shirt sprinkled with tiny dots peeking from under her jacket a sharp contrast against Emma's usual combination of jeans, t-shirts, or plaid shirts. And even if that weren't enough, one only needs to look at her face to know that the woman doesn't think much of Emma's "originality."

"Are you waiting for him?"

"Who else?" Emma asks cheerfully, not exactly trying to mask the forced undertone.

Instead of a grimace, a charming smile flickers to Aurora's lips. "I saw him just a moment ago with a vocalist girl. I think it'll take a while before he finishes up," she remarks coldly with a calculating look.

Emma is on the verge of telling her where she can shove it, but she restrains herself, instead continuing to regard Aurora with a light smile, blinking up at her innocently. "I'll wait for him."

"Suit yourself," she knits her brow.

Emma can see she was expecting a snide remark or some reaction from her, but since she was unsuccessful in her quest, she gives Emma another fleeting, superior look, as if expressing how naive she thinks Emma is, then walks away with gracefully swinging hips.

She watches Aurora's retreating form with a scowl. She never understood how women could actually walk like that. Does one have to be born with it? Or did they teach it somewhere? If so, Emma certainly missed that lesson - she would never be able to walk so temptingly.

It's not like she minds it, though.

It doesn't even cross her mind to give credit to Aurora's words. The woman obviously wanted to annoy her, though Killian may indeed be talking to someone, it's certainly not because he wants to take that girl to bed. Emma is 100% sure about that. If it weren't about Killian, she might feel jealousy - she is not exactly unfamiliar with it - but she simply knows that Killian would never cheat on her. She trusts him, and she only now realizes just how much. This discovery surprises her a little. But no matter how hard she tries to search for it, she doesn't feel insecurity. If she is jealous of something right now, it's because whoever this vocalist girl is, she is in the presence of Killian now, while Emma is not, but otherwise...there is not a single negative feeling in her heart right now.

"Swan?"

Her head snaps up and her eyes land on Killian. His face is dancing with surprise and joy. Emma instantly regrets missing the moment he noticed her.

"Surprise," she gives him a smile and hesitantly rises from the couch.

Mouth stretching into a grin, Killian walks up to her and takes her into his arms, then presses an innocent yet eager kiss to her lips.

"If I knew you were here," he begins, hugging Emma's waist tightly, head tilting into her hair, his voice a calming melody in her ear. She really loves his voice. "I would have ceased talking with Ariel sooner. She's convinced that just because I'm the same age as her boyfriend, I somehow know what a perfect gift to him would be. She said he is a nerd. Do you think I resemble a nerd, Swan?"

Emma chokes back a laugh because he sure is, and he is ridiculous, and she is getting positively nervous about her plans. Her heart beats excitedly in her rib cage as she pulls back and bites into her lower lip, glancing at him involuntarily.

Killian smiles.

"Did you really miss me so much that you just couldn't wait?"

She lowers her head, peeking at him from under her lashes, her stupid heart running a marathon now in her chest.

"Actually, I was thinking I could spend the night at your place?" she suggests slowly, not wanting to sound like it was such a big deal.

Killian's cerulean eyes widen comically, his eyebrows doing their usual dance she likes so much. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Are you quite sure you thought this one out, Swan?" he inquires carefully, and Emma can't not love him for it. Is there another kinder and more considerate guy in the world? Or is she just so incredibly lucky?

"I'm pretty sure," she nods. "Can we go now?"

"I hope that was a rhetorical question, love."

A playful half-smile curls over her lips, but whatever she planned to answer immediately flies out of her head the moment Killian lets go of her waist and grabs her hand, lacing their fingers together. At his touch, her body is rapidly taken over with raw desire. Even if it was meant to be an innocent touch, his skin is hot - too hot - as he brushes over her skin, feeling a flutter in her stomach.

Killian lifts their interlocked hands and, looking intensely into her eyes, breathes a fleeting, soft kiss on the back of hers - the movement so smooth and so full of adoration that she almost feels like they are in another century where she would either flutter her fan at him briskly, or simply faint into his arms.

He lets go of her hand and steps to her previously occupied couch. He grabs her coat and helps her into it before lacing their fingers together again, stepping out of the Music Hall hand in hand.

They don't talk as they leisurely stroll to his apartment, only stealing glances at one another occasionally. The air between them could be cut through with a knife, the anticipation and excitement almost palpable.

It's a real pain in the ass to wait for the elevator and not just simply move closer to him, snuggle up to him and rip all of his clothes off right in the middle of the hallway, giving the residents a hell of a show. Emma has a hard time keeping herself in line - now that they are here, mere minutes from finally being each other's, she just feels like she's about to fall to pieces from the passion she is holding back.

As they finally step through his front door, she's never been so quick to dispose of her coat and take off her shoes, then, without glancing back at Killian, she walks into his bedroom. She neglects to turn on the lights, instead choosing to pull the curtains closed (she hates when the morning sun is blinding her through her eyelids), then whirls around when she hears him follow her.

He stands at the other end of the room, watching her every movement, the distance looming between them with repressed desire. The forgotten light in the living room outlining their features in a way that it feels like only the two of them exist in this world. As if everything else behind the curtain and beyond the window no longer matters, as if it weren't reality. That only they are real. Here and now.

Killian watches her with longing in his eyes but doesn't make a move. "Are you absolutely sure about this, love? I can possibly hold myself back for about five more seconds."

"I want it, Killian. You. Now."

He closes the distance between them with two big strides and crashes his lips to her with such fierceness that Emma gets completely lost in him. As their lips and tongues move in an insatiable dance, she feels she's about to be swallowed up by the throbbing heat between them, but she doesn't mind it in the least. She wants to get lost in him, to travel so deep into the labyrinth of him that she can't find a way back. To be forever his…

˘. . . ° . . . ˘

Killian falls into the incredible taste and scent of her, plunging into the abyss that is Emma Swan. This is what happens anytime he has the chance to kiss her. The world ceases to exist and there is no one but Emma, Emma, Emma - and this time with the knowledge that she will be finally his.

He doesn't want to rush it, not this - he aches to enjoy these moments to the end, to burn the memory of her skin to the very depths of his soul and never let it vanish.

"Swan, let's slow down a bit," he pulls back suddenly, a strangled moan escaping his lips.

"That's the last thing I want right now," she complains, and leaving no time for an answer, she kisses him again.

His good hand glides up from her waist and when his palm gently curls around her fabric-covered breast, they both sigh into the kiss at once. He knew it would fit into his hand perfectly, he has had the chance to caress his fingers over her curves - sometimes playfully, sometimes lost in passion - but her clothes were always a bloody obstacle between them. He simply cannot wait to finally brush over her delicate skin and taste her.

The mere thought of it makes his head dizzy.

He pulls away from her again. They stare at each other with foggy eyes, their gazes on fire, and he can barely contain the longing and greed inside his body. It's as if the air is sizzling between them and what they are keeping at bay for now. He supposes this is what the depth of a volcano is like, with their lava-flavored craving in the darkness.

"I wish to worship every inch of your body," he whispers in her ear as he turns his head, her golden locks tickling his nose. "This is the first time I'm allowed to do this, so I'm going to take my time."

She throws him a mischievous, teasing smile. "And what if instead we just do it now, and leave the exploring to another time?"

He doesn't give her an answer - he doesn't want to say what he is thinking now. The weight of the unspoken words stifles the flames for a moment, but Emma seems to understand him. She steps away from him, extricating herself from his arms, and urges him to take a seat on the bed with an inviting smile. When he obeys her, she stops barely a foot in front of him. Calmly - in a torturous, insanely slow motion, she unbuttons her dark blue blouse, popping the small black orbs one by one, and when she reaches the last one, she pulls out her arms and silently lets the fabric drop to his bedroom floor.

Killian can only stare at the revealed silk-soft, alabaster skin with longing eyes. Her chest rises and falls at least as fast as his own. Her black bra is wretchedly hiding her shapely, sweetly rounded breasts from his gaze.

Emma reaches behind her back with a barely-there smile on her lips and unclasps her bra with a practiced movement, letting the garment join her blouse on the floor.

"Are you disappointed?" she asks with a slight crack in her voice.

"Why the bloody hell would I be disappointed?" he is barely able to squeeze the words out of his mouth.

"I don't know, maybe you pictured my boobs bigger or whatever…"

"They are perfect, Swan," he interrupts. He thinks every atom of her is flawless. "You are perfect."

Emma beams at him and smooths down her palm along her belly until she reaches the button of her jeans. The same jeans that are a bit perhaps both of theirs - at least, that is how Killian feels, and it fills him with endless joy every time he sees the denim they decorated together on her.

After she disposes of her pants and with it, her socks, he barely has time to admire her long, elegant legs when his eyes involuntarily snap back to her moving fingers. She hooks them into the hem of her panties, pushes it a little lower on her hips, then lets the dark lace fall to the ground.

His breath catches in his airways. She stands here before him completely bare and there is no sign of any shyness in her expression.

"You are bloody brilliant," he whispers, the admiration in his voice is like a veiled echo.

He touches Emma's waist as if he's afraid his fingers would break her.

"I'm yours, Killian," she hums, closing the distance between them.

A tremor waves through his body.

Her words caress the very depth of his soul and his whole being is captivated by a misty shiver of desire.

He places both of his hands - good and bad - on her narrow waist, palms slowly start gliding upward, leaving goosebumps in their wake on her skin. When he finally reaches his breasts, he closes them gently in his palms, both of them letting out a content sigh. Her nipples grow hard under his touch and he can't resist the temptation - he greedily strokes his thumb along them, rubbing them gently. Her hands find their way to his shoulders, then up the hair on his nape, anchoring herself against him, face leaning over him with a shudder escaping her lips.

Instinctively, he slips off the bed and kneels in front of her, and he starts peppering her stomach with feather-light kisses. Still holding her waist, he tenderly guides her to the spot he previously occupied on the bed. When she is comfortably laying on her back, he slowly spreads her legs with his palms, scooting closer to her. With unhurried movements, reveling in the lure of every touch, he brushes over her breasts again, then replacing his hands with his mouth, he presses his lips to her nipples one after the other. The taste of her is like the thousand warm colors of autumn, a dazzling illusion and different scents he gets lost in.

Emma lets out a moan at his ministrations - and he believes it's the most beautiful sound in the world.

"You're gonna bruise your knees," she mutters in a faint, weak voice, then slides further up the bed.

Killian, on the other hand, is in no rush to climb after her. With his lips and tongue, he draws his way up from the tip of her toe to the start of her hips and then does the same with her other leg - but it's not enough. He wants to touch every square inch of her skin, every bend, arc, and soft bulge. Everywhere that he can leave a trace of his touch, his mark on her delicate skin.

Emma shudders from time to time, tossing her body on the bed. It's as if a sudden wave of desire is trying to escape her. And the sounds she makes - tiny groans, unbridled sighs that scorch through his very being, encouraging him to continue.

Languidly, he pulls her tightly locked legs apart - she lets him reveal her sweet center to him once again and he only now focuses his attention on it. He looks at her admiringly, and at first, he only brushes her wet folds with the tips of his fingers and when her moans intensify, he leans closer and inhales her intoxicating scent, then breathes gentle kisses onto her clit. Her body twitches once, then twice and a deep-seated groan skips past her lips.

Killian can no longer hold himself back, he eagerly claims Emma with his tongue and lips. Her whole body trembles, a velvety-soft, sweet quivering raking through her body, then within seconds, her spine bends and yells her pleasure at the ceiling.

He doesn't pull away from her right away, choosing to pamper her with kisses until her panting subsides.

"You really are loud, darling," he glances up at her from between her legs with a grin playing on his lips.

"Told you," she replies drowsily, her mouth curves into a half-smile.

"The sounds you make when you become undone...it drives a man raving mad," he murmurs into her thigh, his fingers drawing indecipherable patterns on her waist.

"I want you to go mad," her smile doesn't falter, only widens, then sits up slowly and places her hand on his chest. "It seems you're still wearing a lot of clothes. What do you think about that?"

"That this is an undoubtedly correct observation. Will you help me rectify that?"

She slowly slides her hand under his shirt, undoing the buttons on the dark fabric one by one. Flame-laden lust runs along his body, and he is barely able to wait for her to free him from his clothes.

But this time, Emma is the one who takes her sweet time with him, seizing the opportunity to go slow with her kisses and touches. By the time the last of his clothes are removed from his body, Killian already feels that if he can't have Emma in a matter of moments, he will fall apart and never be whole again.

He gently pushes her down on the bed, towering over the length of her body. He looks into her eyes, trying to ask with non-verbal signals are you sure love? and she seems to read him just fine, because she nods and encourages him to move with a slight lift of her hips. Trying to stretch the moment and engrave it to his memory, he finally enters her body with a tortuously slow motion. He gives her time to adjust to his length and sinks into her warmth as deep as he can. He leans over her and kisses her wildly, feverishly.

There are no adequate words to describe the feeling of being one with Emma Swan.

Their muzzled passion breaks to the surface. The taste of heat and sound of fervor sticks to their skin as he finds a sensitive spot on the side of her neck, earning a moan from her. She wraps her legs tightly around his waist, and he angles his movement to hit the spot that seems to send her over the edge slowly, but surely.

They fit together perfectly. There is a harmony between them that Killian has never experienced with anyone before. Maybe it's more than that - it's like a union. Is it possible that from now on, he won't be able to breathe without Emma?

When their orgasm finally flows through their bodies, they both stare into each other's eyes. It's a revelation, the pure nudity of the soul. This moment is everything - everything he ever dreamed of.

He slowly pulls out, already feeling the loss of her, the warmth and safety of her body, and plops gently down beside her. They lie side by side in the weightless, sweet warmth of happiness. Their panting seemed to draw tiny, throbbing vortices into the air between them. The scorched darkness clings to their bodies satisfactorily, sweat glistens on their skin by the light coming from the living room.

"Swan?" He speaks softly after a while that feels like forever, but in reality, not more than 10 minutes, his voice still hoarse.

"Mmm?" she replies with a languid, but happy tone.

He turns to her on his side, resting on his elbow and hides a stray strand of her golden hair behind her ear, gently touching her face with his fingers in the process. "Let's do it again."

"So soon?"

"I'm up for it if you are," he notes with his lips arching into a mischievous smile, winking at her.

Her gaze slides across his body and her eyes widen slightly - just a little, but he already knows all her gestures and flicker of movement by heart now, so he knows she is surprised, though she only shows it for a moment. Her emerald eyes are already filled with eagerness and hunger for pleasure again.

"In fact, the simple way you are looking at me right now…" he whispers against her mouth, voice shaky from desire. "would be enough to get me ready again."

Thoughts? :)