A/N: I'm just a little behind on the comments from the last (two) chapters but I promise I'm on that today. I love reading all of them. Thank you! Annd! Most of you suggested grilled cheese as comfort food and you are so right. So much so that I had two this past weekend because of your suggestions ;) Your support as ever, continues to overwhelm me and I hope you continue to enjoy the journey these two are on.
Thank you! Always, thanks to shippingtheswann for the cheering and beta work (go read her wonderful story!), imagnifika for finding the heart of the story with her art, halobxist & meanderingcaptainswanmusings for everything xo. And please keep supporting all the other CSBB authors and artists. The content everyone is bringing is amazing. And now to see if the hills and narrow roads of County Donegal have something special planned for Emma and Killian...
CHAPTER 8
She should have expected it as most people move in their sleep. And she tried to be careful, tried to stay awake, to keep some semblance of distance but she was only human and drifted off for moments here and there. She's not sure how much uninterrupted sleep she managed, but what she is sure of was every time she would wake, they had moved closer together, and it wasn't just Killian seeking her out. Her subconscious seemed to know that she too needed the comfort only another person could bring.
And maybe it isn't just her subconscious, maybe she can sort of, kind of, admit how nice it is to be held. How safe she feels tucked against him, her back to his front, his warm breath puffing against her neck and his arm securely around her waist.
Maybe it's something close to perfect.
She wants to keep her eyes closed for just a few more minutes, to enjoy whatever this moment is a little longer but as the sounds around them slowly filter into the room, she can't help but let her thoughts filter in as well. What time is it? What will Killian think if he wakes up wrapped around her?
What is his hand doing?
Her eyes pop open against the bright light of day at the feel of his hand clenching into the fabric of her shirt. She tries to keep her breathing even, but it proves difficult as he tucks himself closer still. Her mind enthusiastically deciding now is the time to run through all the scenarios of what could be. She isn't only thinking about how well he fits around her or how strong and solid he feels. No, it's also about how comfortable it is, how natural it feels. But then again, how easy would it be for his hand to slip under the cotton of her shirt, how warm would his skin be against hers? How rough his finger tips? Yet as the warmth pools in her belly, she already feels the goosebumps spreading across her skin and she knows if his hand were to move slowly up to cup her breast he would find her eager and straining for his touch.
A shiver of desire runs through her and she freezes, waiting to see if she's caught. When he doesn't move further, she takes a few calming breaths, forcing her mind away from any and all wandering thoughts and hands.
Get a grip, Emma.
More sounds from outside their room - the beeping from the microwave, people milling about - bring her back to the task at hand. She carefully roots around in the blankets and lets out another slow breath when her fingers close over her phone. She pulls it up and squints to see the time.
"Shit!" she gasps at the late hour.
"Mmm?"
She actually feels the questioned groan roll over her skin more than she hears it. Killian proceeds to bury his nose further into her shoulder and his hand tightens.
What the hell is she going to do?
She can scramble out of bed in a flurry of tangled sheets and limbs. She'll likely embarrass them both before locking herself in the bathroom to have a mini meltdown.
Probably not the best choice, but an option nonetheless.
She tosses her phone back down and closes her eyes.
She can turn around and have an adult conversation about how they overslept and also maybe mention how she's sort of freaking out about the whole wrapped around each other thing. And what did they want to do about that?
She almost laughs herself out of bed at that one. She may have found some confidence on the trip but she hasn't changed that much.
Maybe she can find a balance between the two.
She gives herself another moment to enjoy the warmth, the now gentle back and forth of his fingers against her stomach before opening her mouth.
She barely gets a sound out.
She steals herself determined to form words, when his fingers start moving again, this time finding skin.
"Killian!" she doesn't completely shout his name but it's a close thing. His hand stills but doesn't move away and after a beat she feels him relax once again. The fact that he doesn't pull away, finally gives her the courage she needs to speak up.
"Sorry," she whispers, intending to continue but his sleep rough voice pulls her up short.
"Think nothing of it, love."
"Did you, um, sleep well?" she asks, sticking with a safer question, except it would appear Killian has other plans. His nose traces down the slope of her neck, over her exposed shoulder.
"I've no complaints."
She sniffs out a laugh and just barely suppresses the urge to grant him more access. Not until they talk, right? They need to talk? That's important, maybe.
His full palm slips under her shirt, warm and solid and - what's important? Emma takes a steadying breath, words, she needs to use her words.
"Oh, okay, great. So it looks like we've slept past our planned departure time. I guess we should probably get going if we want to do most of our driving during the daylight and see anything."
"Mmm."
She's equal parts amused, exasperated and charmed by this sleep soft and affectionate Killian.
She turns over in his embrace, surprising them both, although Killian recovers quickly, arm staying around her waist, head moving back on the pillow to give her a little more room. Emma is unprepared for the heavy lidded eyes that greet her, for the fringe falling across his forehead and the sleepy smile. But most of all, it's his tongue that darts out to dampen his lips that pulls her gaze low and causes her to lean in closer.
She draws her hand up, accidentally brushing against his stomach before resting over his heart, nails slipping through the coarse hair.
But before she can decide what she's going to do, before she can actually be brave, Killian is suddenly up and moving. Emma can barely put together what is happening and yet Killian is already across the room, turned away from her.
"Right, right. You're right. We should get on the road. I'll just go take a quick and bracing shower and you can do what you need to do and we can make tracks."
He's got his shirt pulled on, and towel already clutched against him.
"Um?"
"Aye?"
She stares at him from across the room and he stares back, color high on his cheeks, hair a disaster, looking good enough to - hell, good enough to tackle back into bed.
Emma shakes her head.
"Nothing important. Enjoy your shower."
He looks like he wants to say something more but instead offers her a nod and slips out of the room.
Emma falls back to the bed with a groan but then thinks of something, reaching over the edge. She rummages around her in pack and pulls out a vintage postcard she picked up the day before; a painted image of a young couple in an embrace with a script along the bottom.
They join their lives with hope of bliss and seal the pact with a soulful kiss.
"Not very likely," Emma grumbles flipping it over.
Fuuuuuuuuck!
The single word is the only thing she adds to the message section before stuffing it back in her bag. It helps a little and on deep breathes she pushes out of bed and attempts to get her act together.
xo
She tries to ignore the small tremor in her hands as she takes another winding turn because besides getting on the road hours later than planned, the few minutes of awkward silence at the beginning, and being more sexually frustrated than she's been in perhaps her entire life, the day has actually been quite wonderful. So what's a little nervous shaking in the grand scheme of things?
Realizing they were going to be late no matter what they did, they haven't hurried, choosing instead to meander, enjoying the easy open roads, bright sunshine and a playlist that had them both singing along for most of the afternoon.
And so just because those nice open roads are now a little steeper, a little more challenging to navigate, doesn't mean she can't handle it. Right?
Emma squeezes the steering wheel tighter. Just relax, she reminds herself.
Her eyes to scan the horizon instead of the upcoming turns, and for a brief moment she admires the breathtaking view. They've entered a part of the country that's less traveled, untouched by less adventurous tourists. Homesteads are few and far between; miles often pass before they see another. What she does see are long sloping hills and a green patchwork of land. The properties are segmented by impressive stone boundary walls that go on for miles and disappear over the rise. The slopes are dotted with sheep, and as some graze closer to the road, Emma notices a few carry bright splashes of color across their wool, marking their recent purchase.
As the car climbs higher over the mountainous terrain, Emma internally groans at the hairpin turns she spots coming up, sheep quickly forgotten. So much for enjoying the view. The road ahead is a continuous map of switchbacks and Emma swears it narrows further with every new turn.
Where the hell was she going to put her car if another comes along? Perhaps in the field with the sheep and she'd leave it there, refusing to get back in or ever drive again.
A yawn interrupts her thoughts, her broken sleep beginning to catch up to her. She shakes her head, refocusing before taking the next turn with care. Between her growing exhaustion and the wacky ideas they have for roads, her nerves are beginning to fray, no matter how hard she tries to concentrate on the positives. Unfortunately for her, at the moment Killian seems oblivious to her discomfort and she's loath to say anything. Especially when he finally looks so completely at ease.
He is carrying a lightness that wasn't there before. It's an intangible thing, and Emma isn't sure she could find the right words to describe it if asked, but she knows it's there. It's in the casual set of his shoulders, and the way he leans his head back against the seat. It's the smile that she catches when he thinks she isn't looking and the deep breath he takes before closing his eyes. She knows they are only a few days removed from the revelations about his brother, and more sadness may come but it's clear some of the ghosts of his past have been laid to rest in the green fields and meadows of this enchanting countryside.
So no, she doesn't want to bother him, not for something as silly as narrow roads.
She navigates another complex turn and releases a breath she didn't know she was holding.
A quiet chuckle from Killian takes her eyes off of the winding road and to the man beside her. It's only for a few seconds but what she sees in those few beats, she may very well keep with her forever. His sunglasses are pushed up into his hair, and the smile lines at the corner of his eyes are apparent as he takes in everything with a look of pure delight. She follows his gaze to a sheep hanging out on the front stoop of a home. She chuckles quietly herself before bringing her eyes back ahead.
Killian must hear because she suddenly feels his hand on her thigh, squeezing. She's proud she doesn't jump right out of her seat.
"Did you see that? So cheeky," he says, nodding his head towards the sheep. She nods but doesn't dare say anything, unsure she would be able to find her voice.
She chances another glance at him when he doesn't remove his hand. She's not sure he even notices but she sure as hell does. So now, not only does she need to contend with the road, she needs to deal with this.
His hand. His large warm hand that doesn't seem to be going anywhere.
And now that she's thinking about it, her mind generously reminds her of how warm and solid he felt pressed against her that morning, of his nose finding the curve of her neck and of his wandering fingers. The same goosebumps that had spread across her ski earlier, reemerge. She thinks of that moment, wrapped in Killian and rough hostel blankets and what it meant - to him? To her? For them?
But what does it matter? One look at her face to face and he couldn't get out of bed fast enough.
She takes a turn a little more aggressively than planned and lets out a small squeak when his hand grips her thigh tighter.
"Hey, is everything okay?"
"Yeah, yeah. Never better."
The car bumps along as she tries to get a sense of the road again.
It's not like he's ever really had an issue with personal space, it's something she noticed about him from the beginning but still, hasn't something shifted? Besides his hand with every bump -
Christ. She's going to run them off the road.
"Emma," he tries again, his tone gentle yet insistent. She briefly casts a glance and he looks so earnest, so concerned.
She wants the strength to simply say what's on her mind. She wants to shut off her doubts and embrace her gut. There's more here than just friendship, isn't there? Even if she doesn't know what to do about it.
She looks away but she can still see the blue of his eyes and can still feel the heat of his hand.
Oh how she wants.
So much so that she feels her chest tighten at the thought and her eyes warm with frustrated tears. At him? At herself?
Ugh. Maybe she is just too tired.
She doesn't have long to contemplate that thought, as she spots another car heading in their direction, not far up ahead. Her eyes widen.
"You got this."
She bites back a sarcastic remark with the click of her teeth and manages to find a section of the road wide enough to pull to the side and wait for the other car to pass.
They sit in silence as the other car disappears from sight and Emma is weary to break it. She is suddenly feeling more exhausted than ever but if she doesn't get on the road soon, they are going to lose what little daylight they do have left and then what?
She blows a lock of hair out of her face and reluctantly pulls back out.
She feels Killian's eyes on her.
"I'm fine," she mutters and the bastard has the audacity to chuckle.
"Try again, sweetheart."
She nearly stalls the car. They jerk forward abruptly until she gets the car back in gear.
"Sweetheart? I can't believe. Who the hell -" she stutters through her words, unable to for a complete sentence.
Oh now he lets go of her thigh, hand and prosthetic held up in surrender.
"Look, there's a rest stop ahead, pull over," he suggests, clearly trying to be helpful but the laugh in his voice makes her hands tighten on the steering wheel.
"We don't have time."
"Emma."
"Killian."
"Please, love," he asks softly, all traces of humor gone for the moment.
Emma finally relents, easing her foot off the gas and feels the fight leave her.
"These roads are just a little stressful and I'm," her yawn catches her off-guard and completely ruins her attempt to show him how fine she is. She doesn't bother looking over to see his reaction, instead, with a sigh, pulls into the rest stop.
With the engine cut, and the stress of the roads removed, Emma allows her eyes to close and pulls in a deep breath.
"I'm sorry, I've been selfish prat. You've been looking out for me and I -"
She turns her head against the headrest and takes in his worried face.
"What? No. Stop."
"Look at your hands, love."
He motions towards the steering wheel and it's only then she realizes that's she's still gripping the wheel, knuckles white.
She has to laugh.
"It's just the roads," she mumbles, easing her hands off.
"Mmm."
He's not convinced but she's grateful he doesn't try to argue the point. If they can just get back on the road and reach the hostel, a good night sleep will go a long way.
"Alright, out you go."
When did he get outside?
Emma blinks up at Killian who seemed to suddenly appear at her side, door open, hand extended.
"How- " she trails off, her hand reaching out for his of its own volition. He takes it, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.
"Let's get you unbuckled first, love."
He drops her hand and leans into the car, popping the buckle. He pulls back just enough so he can look at her but not so far that she can't feel his breath puff out against her lips.
"Honestly," she mumbles, the word tumbling past her lips before she can pull it back in.
He furrows his brow. She rolls her eyes.
"What?"
"We don't have time for this," she tries, finally shaking herself out of her daze.
"Get out of the car, Emma."
"Get out of the car, Emma," she parrots his words back petulantly.
She's not sure what she was intending with her behavior but if it was to annoy him, she fails, because he just looks at her for another beat before barking out a laugh. He pulls out to full height and gives a small tug on her hand he's recaptured.
"Who knew you could be such a brat. Come on, you'll feel better, I promise."
She hesitates out of principal but ultimately lets herself be helped out of the car.
The fresh air immediately begins to settle her nerves, and she takes deep calming breaths, while Killian fiddles with something in the backseat and finally closes the door.
He's found a blanket and hurries to lay it open against the hood, taking up a spot against it, hand outstretched.
She bites her lip.
"C'mere. Please."
The warning bells are going off in her mind. Danger, danger, Emma Swan.
He looks too good, too at ease, too much like all he wants is her right beside him.
Too good to be true.
His smile is still patient, eyes watching her like he knows everything she's thinking but he can't possibly know all that's going on in her mind.
She takes a step.
His smile grows. Damn him.
Another two steps and she's in front him.
"See, was that so hard?"
"Mmm," she allows herself her own, unconvinced sound.
It doesn't deter him. He reaches out and turns her pulling her between his legs, her back to his chest. She freezes at the all too familiar feeling.
"Hey, hey, what's this?" he asks, immediately feeling her tense up, lips at her ear.
She pulls herself away, putting some distance between them.
"No! You can't do that," she says holding up her hands when he tries to take a step forward.
"Do what?"
He does look genuinely confused now.
"Touch me like that and then, and then pull away like I'm the last thing you want to be close to."
His mouth opens and closes without words before his head tilts to study her. He takes another step but she backs away.
"Hey!"
She cries out, surprising him, and she has to cover her mouth to hide the laugh that wants to bubble out at his surprised jump
She draws a line in the dirt with the toe of her shoe.
"You can't cross this line."
"You're being ridiculous."
"Yeah well, you're driving me crazy."
He crosses his arms over his chest and advances to her line but doesn't cross it.
"How so?"
She mimics his pose but looks away, chewing on her lip again. Wanting to say the words. Wanting to fully express how much she wants him, how she's craving his touch, but…
But she can't.
"Love. What did you mean? That I didn't want to be close to you? That couldn't be further from the truth."
She scoffs and he crosses the line, his shoes brush hers.
"Killian," she protests but doesn't move away. She doesn't actually want to.
He cups her face and urges her eyes up.
"Tell me."
She searches his face.
Tell him.
"I want more," she blurts out and when his eyes widen, she closes hers.
"Emma."
He tries to interrupt her but if she stops now she'll never get it all out, so she plows through.
"I mean, I want you."
If she'd only open her eyes. She would see the tender expression on his face as he watches her with an adoring gaze but unfortunately she just feels his thumb trace back and forth over the apple of her cheek.
"And I thought, maybe you wanted the same thing. Maybe you wanted me -"
"Love -"
"But this morning you couldn't get away from me fast enough and I mean that's fine. You don't owe me anything and I don't want to make you uncomfortable but you can't keep touching me. You can't do that and expect me not to feel something. It's not fair. And honestly, I think i'm going to run us off the road if you keep putting your hand on me."
She feels his laugh and wants to pull away but his wrist anchors her against him, as his hand stays at her jaw.
"No, no, wait. I'm sorry. I'm really mucking this up. It's just you have it all wrong."
For once she stays completely quiet.
"Emma I need you to open your eyes. I want you looking at me."
She wars with the decision but ultimately brings her eyes back up to his. She sees the tender smile now, the blush that stains his cheeks and extends to the tips of his ears. She sees a bit of hope reflected back at her.
"There she is," he whispers, the soft words calming her further. "I want you to listen carefully to my story, are you listening?'
His brows raise and while he waits for her answer, he tucks a lock of hair behind her ear before resting his hand against the curve of her neck.
She takes another deep breath and finally nods.
"Good," he whispers, his mouth ticking up. "Believe it or not, when I started this trip I was an absolute wreck. I like to think I'm a seasoned traveler but as you now know, the reasons for this voyage were different. And although I had been going through the motions, taking photographs, trying to visit all the places Liam and I had outlined, it was unmemorable, colorless. That is, until I was nearly attacked late one night, by a breathtaking woman in a towel."
Her laugh hiccups out of her and she doesn't protest when he pulls her a little closer, instead she fists her hands into his shirt at his sides, holding tight and waits.
"Good, you recognize this story. So here's this woman, ready to read me the riot act and all I can see is the flash of green of her eyes and the pink high on her cheeks. I'm surprised I heard anything you'd said.
His thumb continues to brush along her cheek, which she can feel heating up again.
"I'm not sure if your blush was from the heat of the shower, my wonderful physique or…" he trails off.
"Probably the whiskey," Emma supplies, teasing, and Killian nods.
"Right, probably the whiskey."
And as if he can't help himself, he pauses to press a kiss to her cheek, lips lingering before trailing to her ear.
"I thought of those green eyes a lot that first night. I wanted to know your story, I wanted to apologize, I wanted to see you over breakfast, I - how did you put it?" he asks pulling back. Emma stares at him with wide eyes. "I just wanted."
He shakes his head, rolling his eyes at the memory, "but we both know how that went and how it continued to go a few times after that first meeting. I can be a real prat, love, though it's never in my intentions to be. I'm out of practice, I've closed myself off from people for too long but I wanted it to be different with you. I want it to be different. And for some reason you've stuck around time and again, picked me up and showed me this beautiful country in a way I never thought I could see it."
"Killian-"
"No, darling, still my story. You see the thing is, I've wanted more too but I don't think I deserve it. So I try to keep myself in check but sometimes I can't help but dare to hope. I'm a selfish man, and when I can hold you, I find I don't want to let go. I don't know how to."
She grips his shirt tighter, pressing herself against him.
"How could you think that?" she asks quietly.
He shrugs.
"You deserve it all," she adds.
His eyes come back to hers, blue and almost believing.
But there's still one thing.
"But this morning?" she asks and his eyes darken, falling to her lips. He starts to walk her back to the car, and she follows, step for step until she feels the cool metal against her back. She sucks in a breath.
"Do you know how many cold showers I've taken since I've met you?"
She's too distracted by the heat of his body against her, by the press of her breasts against his chest with every shallow breath she takes to really think about what he's saying. She silently shakes her head.
"But-" she trails off as his head dips to her neck, lips trailing along her pulse point to the shell of her ear.
"That was just when I was sleeping across the room from you but this morning with you warm and pliant and wearing those absolutely tiny shorts you insist on wearing to bed -"
"They're just boxers!" she protests but swallows any further comment when his teeth nip at her lobe and it's practically a growl when he does speak.
"They're indecent, Swan, and part of the reason why it feels like I've been hard for weeks. And pardon me but you needn't feel my erection pressing into you like some teenage fool this morning."
Emma shivers at the rough words, enjoying how they dance across her skin before it actually dawns on her.
"Oh. Oooh."
He chuckles, bringing his hand back up to cup her face, his eyes steady and clear on hers.
"Oh," he echoes back.
Emma cants her hips up and watches with delight as his eyes close, her name a whispered groan on his lips.
"So… what are we going to do about it?"
Thanks for reading! Are you a late sleeper? Or an earlier riser? Hope to see you back next week for chapter 9! :)