Author's note: So quick update. This is what happens when I have a day off work apparently. We passed 250 follows for this story, which is amazing. I never expected that! So thank you! This is the longest chapter yet, a whopping 11,000 words. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I am not the pope.
Chapter 5
Emma woke to the smell of coffee.
She rolled over, muscles tight, twinging, and she groaned softly. Her hand hit the cold sheets next to her, causing her to frown. The smell of the coffee should have been a giveaway, but she felt a little disappointed that she was alone.
After their dinner the night before (which she didn't burn, thank you very much), they tumbled into his bed and hadn't left it, just as he'd promised. She still didn't know what it was about him—about them, together—that she craved so much, but it only seemed to get better. However, for all their physical intimacy, they spent a lot of the night talking, about stupid things like their favorite color, movies, books they'd read. Killian was very well read—which shouldn't have been a surprise considering the way he spoke—but they way he talked about the things he'd read had her fascinated.
He was so passionate about everything, his work, his research, silly geeky debates, soccer...her. When they talked, he was always touching her, toying with her hair, feather light touches to her skin that warmed her, made her feel special. They told embarrassing stories, like the time she chugged four beer bongs in a row in college and threw it all up into the spiked punch or the time he switched out his brother's cleats before a match and he had to play in shoes two sizes too small. Whenever he spoke of Liam, Killian's eyes would shine with grief and sadness, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. She didn't ask, merely weaving their fingers together and squeezing gently.
And he would look at her and nod and she could tell he wanted to tell her, but was having trouble finding the words. And that was okay. For now, knowing he wanted to share was enough.
Emma got up, the smell of coffee getting stronger. She picked up the shirt she borrowed and slipped it on. She was halfway to the kitchen before running to the bathroom instead in horror. This was the first time she'd spent the night (and remembered it) with a guy in quite a while and she must have the worst morning breath ever. Neal had always said so, insisting she brush her teeth before kissing her. Emma didn't have her own toothbrush of course, but hopefully, Killian wouldn't mind if she borrowed his. She brushed quickly, the minty toothpaste easing her momentary anxiety.
Emma found Killian in the kitchen, making waffles.
"Morning, sweetheart," he said, his face lighting up.
Emma fought to suppress a grin, not wanting to seem too eager. "I see you're taking advantage of the supplies I brought," she replied, running her fingers lightly over his bare waist. Him standing in his kitchen bare chested as he made them breakfast was far more arousing than it had any right to be. Down, girl.
"Aye, they were much appreciated, especially since you're staying today." There was a hint of doubt in that last bit, as if he wasn't quite sure she would, but hopeful all the same.
"I can stay as long as you want me." She pressed a kiss to his shoulder, then moved to get a mug out of his cabinet. But before she could, he tugged her back and kissed her properly, loud and smacking, making her giggle. "Killian!"
"You used my toothpaste," he accused, licking her bottom lip.
"Sorry?" She brushed her hands along his ribcage, feeling the muscles flex.
Killian gave her a little shake, humming. "No, it's fine. But you didn't have to."
Emma's nose crinkled. "You know morning breath is a thing, right?"
Killian kissed the corner of her mouth, then released her. "Aye, but you didn't notice mine now, did you?" he teased.
Emma swatted at his chest. "Shut up." Because no, she really hadn't. And that said more about her than she was willing to examine at the moment.
Instead, she got her coffee and added just the right amount of sugar. She took a sip, sighing contentedly. "That's really good."
"I'm glad the lady approves." He put some waffles on two plates and carried them to where he had a makeshift breakfast nook constructed. She followed and perched on the stool, nursing her coffee. "These might not be my best work," he warned. "I've never made wheat waffles before."
Emma chuckled. "Sorry, it was the best I could come up with. At least they're not gluten free?"
Killian scowled. "Bloody nuisance that ruddy gluten free garbage. Who came up with that?"
Emma rolled her eyes. "God, don't get me started. My mother swears by it for some reason. I think it's disgusting. Give me some gluten and chocolate and fatty stuff please."
Killian eyed her warily. "A sweet tooth? I would have never guessed."
Emma took a sip of her coffee, then dug into her pancakes. "Don't get me wrong," she said after swallowing, "I'm all for eating healthy and exercising, but come on. If I have to do that and never have a Kit Kat again, then I'll pass." She took another bite, maple syrup dribbling down her chin. "Hmm, these are good."
Killian swiped his thumb over the little dent in her chin, then licked the syrup off. "Everything in moderation, eh?"
She licked her lips. "I don't know, there are some things I don't mind binging on."
"That so? Would you care to enlighten me?"
Already, she could feel that pull, that spark begin to flicker to life. His eyes darkened just a bit, his lips curved into the most salacious smirk. Emma shrugged. "Maybe after breakfast. If you're lucky."
Twenty minutes later—breakfast consumed, dishes in the sink—Killian picked her up from behind and hoisted her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing. Emma shrieked, surprised, only putting up the briefest of struggles until she realized where he was taking her.
"Killian!"
"What? That wasn't a blatant invitation to take you back to bed?" He ran his hand up along her bare legs, seeking out the spot behind her knee that made her shiver. A spot she hadn't even known existed before their day at the beach.
Emma bit her lip. "You're not...oh...playing fair!"
"Who said anything about fair?" His lips brushed her skin, her borrowed shirt riding up and exposing her ass. "Because you, love, are entirely not fair." He put her down, the bed bouncing under her. He crawled in after her, licking his lips. "In fact, you're positively sinful."
Emma's breath flew out in a rush as he kissed her, hard, his warm calloused hands gliding over her legs. She nibbled on his lip, drawing it between her teeth, heat already pooling in her stomach. Killian growled, the sound going straight to her clit, making her core throb. God, she wanted to hear him make that sound over and over.
Using a move she learned in mixed martial arts, she flipped them over, Killian landing on a the bed with a grunt. "Swan?"
She straddled his hips, grinding down, making him hiss. "My turn to play," she said, a finger to his lips. He nodded, his eyes wide and dark, pupils blown. He sucked her finger into his mouth, tongue licking at her flesh. Emma ran her other hand down his chest, nails scraping, playing over the taut muscles. She couldn't get over how gorgeous he was, dark hair, broad shoulders, trim waist, lean muscles, hard where she was soft. She loved the way they molded together, the way his coarse hair rubbed over her skin. Her hand slid down further, following the dark trail that disappeared into his boxers.
Emma swept her long hair over her shoulder and ducked down, mouth hot on his skin. She licked and sucked and nibbled, marking his collar with a rather large bruise. It matched one he'd left on her the night before, in almost the same place. Killian groaned, his hands moving down to cup her ass, kneading, squeezing.
Emma pushed her hips back into his hands, another wave of desire rolling through her. "Just can't help yourself, can you?" she asked, laughing into his chest. She licked his nipple, biting down gently.
"Perhaps you should restrain me, if you don't like it," he growled, giving her a light smack. Emma moaned, loudly, her forehead falling to his chest. His hand rubbed over her. "What's this?" He smacked her again, just a tic harder. "Do you like that?"
Emma dug her nails into his skin. "What would you do if I said yes?"
"Oh bloody hell," he cursed. His left hand came up, fisting in her hair, dragging her lips back to his, kissing her roughly. "You are such a naughty girl, love."
Emma wiggled above him, wrenching his hand back down, his tone short circuiting rational thought. She cried out as he spanked her again, the pain blossoming into pleasure. Her eyes squeezed shut, stunned by how much she enjoyed it. Whimpers and moans tumbled from her lips, her fist tightening in the sheet next to Killian's head.
"Oh my god," she gasped. She bit her kiss swollen lips, hissing when his fingers slipped between her legs.
"Fuck, you are so wet." He teased her slit, playing with her, her breathing getting shallower. "Can I taste you?" Two fingers slid inside her and she nodded furiously, not trusting her voice. Killian rolled them over, dragging Emma to the middle of the bed. He pressed his fingers to her lips, letting her taste herself there. She sucked on them greedily, the tang sweet on her tongue.
Killian cursed again, pushing her shirt up. Then he was between her legs, hands under ass, lifting her up to his hungry mouth. Emma cried out, sharp and loud, his tongue doing positively sinful things to her. He lapped at her slit, running the length, teasing her entrance. Emma grabbed for the rungs of his headboard, back arching, pressure coiling in her gut.
"Sweet," he whispered, lowering her to the bed, pressing her thighs wider apart. "Sweet, so pretty and pink and wet." He nibbled on her folds, his scruff scratching. It was burning her up from the inside, hot and erotic and almost too much.
"Don't stop," she pleaded, head thrashing. "Fuck."
"No," he swore, giving her nice long lick. "Never." He sucked her clit into his mouth, tongue swirling around the aching nub; Emma bucked her hips, a jolt shooting up her spine. Killian held her down, hand on her trembling stomach, his mouth relentless. Emma tightened her grip, knuckles white, desperate for some kind of anchor.
"Oh god. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Emma screamed, the world exploding behind her eyes. Her heart was racing, her skin tingling, she had no idea which way was up or down or anything.
And there was still a dull ache inside her that could only be filled one way.
"I love watching you fall apart for me," Killian whispered, kissing the inside of her thigh. Emma shivered, her eyes fluttering open. He had a smug grin on his handsome face, one she had to admit was entirely earned. That was by far the best she'd ever had.
Emma uncurled her fingers from the headboard and sat up, peeling the sweat soaked tank from her body. She smiled at him, still breathing a bit hard, crooking her finger in invitation. Killian needed no further prompting, returning her grin and pulling her into his arms. Her hands slid over him, palming him, making him growl again.
"Bloody minx." He shoved at his boxers, his cock springing free and she rubbed her hand over it, jerking and stroking, relishing every sound, every curse. It made her feel wild and wanton and wanted. Killian wanted her and never failed to let her know how much.
"I can't...get...the...sodding...things...off," he complained, trying to touch her and get his boxers off at the same time.
Emma pushed him onto his back, reaching for the tangled cloth. She pulled them down his legs, freeing him at last. She dug in the nightstand for the foil packet she knew was in there—she'd become very familiar with that in the last twelve hours or so—before straddling his thighs. He leered at her, admiring the view, his smug expression cut off when she took him into her hand again. She curled the foil into her free hand, still stroking, watching the emotions play on his face. He looked wrecked and debauched, hair sticking up, cheeks flushed.
Emma smirked, loving the power she currently had over him. "I really want you in me," she said, her voice low and seductive. "But I think I want to taste you first." Killian's retort got swallowed by a moan when she ducked to take him into her mouth. She sucked hard on his tip, relishing his answering shout. He bucked into her mouth, or tried to, his movement hampered by her body weight. Emma kept her eyes on him as she worked him over, licking and swirling, until he begged her to stop.
"One of these days I'm going to finish you like that," she said, giving him a few moments to recover, her hands resting on his hips.
"One day, I'll let you. But I don't want to leave you unsatisfied, love."
"Now that is an idea I can get behind," she replied, pushing her hair back before leaning down to kiss him soundly. She scooted up, grinding her hips directly over his thick cock, teasing them both. He rubbed right into her clit, making her ache even more for him. She pulled away abruptly, tearing the foil. Emma tossed the pack and rolled the condom on. "I want you to watch. Watch me ride you."
Killian nodded, eyes hooded, watching her. Emma eased herself down, letting him fill her up, a long moan tearing from her throat. Christ, he felt so good inside her; she couldn't get enough. Her hips rolled, she rose and fell, lost to the sensations.
"There's a good girl," Killian murmured, his hands skimming up her body, cupping her bouncing breasts. "Christ, you're stunning."
Emma whimpered, covering his hands with hers, helping him touch her, make her feel so fucking good. "God, Killian..." She picked up her pace, the thick slide of him, stretching her, hitting deeply...she needed more. "Ahhh, fuck, yes...so good."
"Faster, Swan," he bit out, tweaking her nipple. "Let me see you fall apart."
Emma dragged one set of joined hands down to her cleft, her hips jerking when they found her clit. "Yessss," she hissed. Her hips kept rolling, undulating over him, head thrown back as they touched her, stroked her, the pressure nearing a breaking point. "Fuck, I'm gonna come. Oh god, yes!"
She quaked and shook, the pleasure pulsing through her, her walls fluttering around him. Killian kept stroking her, his hips jerking, rolling up into her, another wave of pleasure rocking her, dragging another orgasm out of her. She fell forward, chest heaving, Killian's hoarse shout filling her ears as he followed her over the edge.
She didn't know how long it took her to regain her senses, Killian's warm body the only thing she knew as she lay there draped over him.
"Are you okay?" he asked, tenderly stroking her back.
"Mmhmm." She was still pretty high, her body sated. She also wasn't certain she could move.
"Love, are you sure?"
"100% positive."
"Do you want to move?"
"Do you need me to?"
"No. You're perfect exactly where you are."
Emma laughed weakly, snuggling into his chest. She stretched out over him, drifting off into a light slumber.
When she woke up again, Killian was spooning her from behind. "Hey."
"Hey." His arm tightened around her middle and she sighed. "Feeling better?"
"I was never not fine. In fact, I feel very good."
Killian nuzzled her neck. "Aye, you do."
"Now who's being dirty?"
"Admit it, Swan. You love it."
She half shrugged. "Maybe." She turned to face him, her hand reaching up to thumb at the scar on his cheek. "So is it my turn?"
"For what?"
"Aren't we still doing that thing? The getting to know you thing?"
Killian ran his hand down her side, over her hip. "If you want. I always love finding out new things about you, Emma." His eyes searched her face. "Although, if I may, I do have a question."
"Shoot."
He chuckled. "Do you remember that, um, move you did? Where did you learn that?"
Emma flushed, surprised he remembered that. "Well, when I was fourteen, I wanted to take martial arts classes."
"You?"
"I don't even remember why anymore. But I managed to convince Elsa it was a good idea. We did it all through high school." Or in her case, private high school. Emma only had a vague notion of what a public school looked like from TV.
"The more I hear about this Elsa, the more I'd like to meet her."
Emma scowled. "Should I be jealous?"
Killian kissed her, his lips warm and soft. "Absolutely not." He kissed her nose. "I'm just happy to hear you have at least one real friend in that place."
Emma smiled. "Yeah, Elsa's great. Closest thing to a sister I ever had." She looked away, suddenly reminded of a lingering sadness. "My parents...couldn't have any more children after me. Something went wrong while Mom was in labor. I almost didn't make it or so they tell me." Her parents rarely ever spoke of it and Emma was too young at first to really understand. She was eight when her dad explained what happened, that Mommy couldn't give her the brother or sister she wanted.
Killian pulled her close, cradling her head. "I'm sorry, love."
"It's fine."
"No, it's not." Emma wondered if she'd brought up bad memories of Liam, but his gaze only held concern and empathy. She tucked her head under his chin and let him hold her. She felt safe, even though she'd only known him for a few weeks. They shared a connection she couldn't explain, more importantly, didn't want to.
All she knew was this was the happiest she'd been in a very long time.
Killian slammed the book down in frustration. August had flaked...again, the third time in less than two weeks. Now the Memorial Day holiday was coming up and Robin needed him to work. He'd been planning on taking Emma out on his boat for the weekend; the weather would be clear, they could see even more stars away from the shore. He was going to show her how to navigate. It would even be a chance to check his traps.
But no. August flaked—if he wasn't fired by the time Killian got there, he was going to murder Robin—and Killian was too good of a friend to say no. Not to mention he still could use the extra cash. Being with Emma was putting stains on his finances that he hadn't anticipated.
Gathering his temper, he rang Emma. "Hey, I was just about to call you," she said.
"Emma, I'm afraid I'm going to have to cancel our excursion."
There was a pause. "That sucks. What's up?"
"I got called into work unexpectedly. I am so sorry."
"It's okay." But he could hear the sadness in her voice. A sadness he shared. He lived for the time he got to spend with her. "Maybe next weekend?"
"I will make sure of it, lass. I promise." Even if he had to work overtime during the week he would make sure they got that trip. And Robin owed him. Big time.
"I know you will."
"So what will you do without a devilishly handsome sailor to take you out on the water?"
Emma laughed. "I'm sure I'll find something to do."
"Like what?" He was stalling. On purpose, reluctant to let her go. Now that he knew how he felt—even though it scared him shitless—he was fighting the urge to say it. He'd almost slipped a couple of times in the days since their beach date. He didn't want to scare her, or put undue pressure on her. She was still just visiting, even though she made no effort to go home. She seemed happy here, happy with him.
"I don't know. Maybe some shopping? Horseback riding?"
"You can ride a horse?"
"I haven't in years; my mom used to take me when I was little."
"Well, maybe we can change that."
"You ride?"
"Yep."
"You sail, ride horses, fix cars, save sea creatures. Is there anything you don't do?"
Killian laughed, deep and throaty. "Fly?"
He didn't need to see her to know she was rolling her eyes. "You're hilarious."
"I know." He looked at the clock. "Bloody hell. I've got to go. I'll talk to you later, okay?"
"Okay. Don't work too hard." They said their goodbyes and hung up. Killian grabbed his overalls and keys before heading out to his Jeep.
"I'm really sorry about this, Killian."
Killian merely nodded, going to look over the work orders. Robin wasn't exactly on his list of favorite people at the moment.
"I don't know what happened; he had great references and everything."
"Mate, there's nothing we can do about it now. Everyone makes mistakes."
"But you were going to take your girlfriend out on your boat. I know what a big deal that is for you."
Killian rounded on his friend, his temper flaring. "I'm sorry, mate, but you really don't. If you understood what Liam means to me, what Emma means to me, then you wouldn't talk about things you don't understand."
He started to stalk off—if he stayed he might wind up saying something he regretted—but Robin grabbed his arm. "Did you say Emma?"
Son of a bitch. He was angry and once more his tongue got the better of him. But there were a lot of Emmas, right? It was a common enough name. "Aye, what of it?" Bluff your way out, Jones.
"Have a picture of her?"
"Why?"
"Do you or don't you?"
He remember that day at the beach, when she'd snapped those pictures of the two of them. He'd used a smaller version as her caller ID picture because he loved her smile in it. "Haven't got me phone. Sorry."
Killian got about five paces before Robin called out. "Her last name wouldn't be Nolan, would it?"
He visibly deflated. Bloody hell. He was in for it now. With a heavy heart, Killian pulled out his phone and pulled up the picture. "Here she is, mate."
Robin took his phone, studying the picture. The longer he looked the more pensive he became. "Oh Killian. Please tell me you didn't."
"Would you rather I lied?"
Robin sighed, handing back the phone. "No, I suppose not. How did this happen?"
Killian gestured for them to go to Robin's office. Once settled, he told Robin everything, from dropping her luggage to the coffee to their early dates, leaving out the more intimate parts, of course. Killian was a gentleman; he didn't kiss and tell.
"You knew this entire time she was a guest and yet you're still with her?" He didn't sound judgmental, just worried.
"I know, alright? I know I shouldn't. I've told myself that a thousand times."
"So why are you?"
"Because I love her." There. He'd said it. Out loud. He loved her. He, Killian Jones, loved Emma Nolan. His lovely Swan.
Robin ran his hands through his hair. "Killian, now don't take this the wrong way...but you just met her a few weeks ago."
Killian crossed his arms stubbornly. "I seem to recall you telling us a story about how you knew Marian was the one after an evening playing cards."
"That's different."
"How?"
"Because..." Robin was clearly scrambling for something to dissuade him. "Because I was young and stupid. Naive. You've worked so hard, Killian. You're nearly there. Why do this now?"
Killian stood up, angry all over again. "Do you honestly think I bloody planned this, Robin? I had one plan. Get through the summer, go graduate and get off this accursed rock! Go make a name for myself doing what I love, what I swore to my brother I would do."
"You still can, Killian."
"I can't give her up. I won't. She's the first...in a bloody long time."
"What about everything else?"
"Are you gonna rat me out?"
Robin looked indignant. "Of course not!" He stood, coming around the desk and taking Killian by the shoulders. "Is she worth it?"
He looked Robin dead in the eye. "Aye. She's worth everything."
"Then you've got me in your corner. I just want you to be happy, if she does that for you, then I can respect that."
"Thanks, dad."
Robin punched him in the shoulder. "Sod off."
"Speaking of which, how did you know her?"
"She punctured two tires driving over some busted glass on the road to her bungalow...maybe two weeks ago? Less? Something like that. She was nice."
Killian was a bit nonplussed at that. She had mechanical trouble and didn't call him? Don't be silly, Jones, she's a bloody adult. And she'd just come from his place, if Robin was recalling the evening correctly. He could ask her about it later.
"Did she really give you an apple?"
Killian blinked, dragged from his thoughts. "Oh aye. Right angry I was about it too. Thought she was a bloody cheapskate!"
"Well, she definitely not that. Perhaps she was merely jetlagged."
"I dunno. She comes from a pretty privileged background; I'm pretty sure her parents have servants, things like that." Killian had to admit; he was bit relieved to be able to talk about her. He hadn't realized how much he'd been holding in in the weeks since she'd turned his world upside down.
"I'd really like to meet her...properly. Although I suppose given the circumstances, you'd want to wait?"
Killian groaned. "She doesn't know, Robin."
"You have to tell her. You owe her that, especially given the risk you're taking."
"I know. I just...don't want her to look at me differently."
"Why would she do that?"
Killian shook his head. "You didn't know me before, mate. You don't know what I've done." No one did, except Will. Killian was on the cusp of telling Emma; he'd tried once or twice. She seemed to sense it, but hadn't pushed, for which he'd been grateful. But he didn't want to dump all of his secrets on her, especially this early in their relationship
"Keeping secrets is never good, Killian," Robin warned.
Killian sighed heavily. "I know. Just...let me do this in my own way, okay?"
"Fine. Does Will know?"
"He's met her, but he doesn't know who she is, not really. And he doesn't know about her staying here."
"You should probably tell him, before he figures it out. He's not as...discreet as I am."
Killian raised a sardonic brow. "Like you and Regina?"
Robin nearly choked. "I'm sorry...what?"
Killian grinned. "I bloody knew it! I knew there was something odd about you and her!"
"Would you bloody well keep it down?" Robin hissed. "Regina would fire us both."
"Ever her boyfriend?"
Robin took a swing at him, but it held no force. "This makes me a huge hypocrite, doesn't it, mate?"
"Well, it doesn't help your cause, Robin." He clapped his friend on the shoulder. "But your secret's safe with me."
Killian called Will as soon as he got home, even though it was late. Robin was right; Will wouldn't take the news as well. He already had some sort of chip on his shoulder when it came to Emma; Killian had noticed his friend's less than friendly greeting when they'd met.
The shouting started sooner than he expected.
"Are ya bloody well out of yer mind? I mean, I knew ya were stupid but I didn't think ya were this stupid!"
"Will..."
But Will pressed on as if he hadn't heard. "What on earth were ya thinking? I knew that girl was trouble, I smelled it on 'er the moment I laid eyes on 'er! But no, ya get turned into a ruddy lovesick puppy for a piece of ass! She must be good, for ya to be this much of a bloody idiot!"
Killian's hand crashed into Will's jaw, hard. "Don't you ever talk about her like that again! Do you hear me?"
"Like what? Ya can't tell me yer not screwing her, I saw ya with me own bloody eyes!"
Killian punched him again, blood spurting out of his nose. "Just because Anastasia left you doesn't mean every woman is a bitch!"
"Don't you bring Ana into this, you fuckin' arse! This had nothin' to do with her!"
"Doesn't it? She left you for another man, a rich one at that. I'm not with Emma for her money, I don't give a shit about that!"
Will wiped at his nose, scowling at him. "So it makes no difference? None a'tall? You come from different worlds, mate," he spat. "How do you think she's gonna react when she finds out the truth? About Liam?"
"I don't know," Killian said honestly. "But I do know that I love her."
Will cursed. "You don't even know what love is, mate. This is the easy part, where it's all sunshine and roses and ya can't keep yer hands off each other. Wait til yer first fight, Jones. Then we'll see who's right." He went over to Killian's sink and spat blood into it. Then he turned and walked out.
Killian dialed Emma's number before the door was fully closed. He needed to hear her voice. "Killian?"
"Hi, Swan. Listen, I know it's late, but...could I perhaps...come over? I'd really like to see you."
"What's happened?"
"Nothing, nevermind." Christ, it was nearly midnight, she must have been getting ready for bed. His Swan could be a nightowl.
"Killian, it's not nothing. Come on over."
He arrived at her bungalow twenty minutes later. When she opened the back door, she was wearing the clothes he'd lent her the first time she'd slept in his bed. She must have been using them as pajamas. "Hey."
"Hey." He stepped into the house, then immediately into her arms. She didn't argue, just held him tight, cradling his head. It reminded him of something his mother used to do when he and Liam were small.
"Killian, is everything okay?" she asked gently.
"I had a nasty row with Will, the bleeding arse."
Emma pulled back, carefully examining his face. "Did this row," she said, trying to imitate his accent, "involve fisticuffs?"
"Possibly."
"There are tiny flecks of blood on your face." She held up his hand. "And this." His knuckles were cracked and bloody, mostly dry now.
"It's mostly his blood if that makes you feel better."
Emma huffed. "Yeah, I feel loads better that my boyfriend got into a fight with his very best friend...over what exactly?"
He tried not to perk up at the casual—yet still sarcastic—way she said 'boyfriend,' but it was difficult. "Actually, it was a fight about you."
Emma had been pulling him toward the spare bathroom—to get him cleaned up he presumed—but froze as soon as the words were out of his mouth. "Me? But why?"
There were several reasons, but Killian decided to go with the simplest. "Will's, er, got a bit of a bad history with women."
"But I didn't do anything to him. Why me?"
Killian scratched behind his ear. "It's got nothing to do with you. Bloody hell, he'll murder me for telling you this, but...he came here a few years ago, even before me. Wanted to get a new start with his girlfriend, lass by the name of Anastasia. They were here about six months when she left him for another, richer bloke. He's not been the same since."
"So he thinks I'm gonna break your heart or something?"
Oh, if only it were that simple. "Something like that. He said some...nasty, rude things about you and I punched him."
Emma still looked confused. "But that doesn't make sense! And he doesn't even know me!"
"Emma...Swan, I know. Will's irrational, is all. He's never really gotten over that bloody harpy. To this day he won't look twice at a blonde, because they all remind him of his bloody Ana."
"Did you really punch him?"
Killian held up his hand. "Twice. Second time in the nose, hence the blood."
Emma sighed exasperatedly, then pulled him into the bathroom. She dug out a first aid kit under the sink. "Do all of your arguments end with bloodshed?"
"No. This was a special case." He tried to hold still while Emma scrubbed the blood off his face with an antiseptic wipe.
"I don't want to come between you and your friends, Killian."
"Emma, you're not. Will and I will be ranting about how terrible England is by the end of the week, you'll see."
She gave him a tiny smile. "Well, thank you for...defending me or whatever, even though you didn't have to."
"My pleasure."
Emma poured alcohol over his battered knuckles and Killian jerked. "I'm pretty sure it's a pleasure you could do without though, right?"
He sucked it a breath; god, it stung like a bitch. "Have you and Elsa never quarreled?"
Emma shook her head. "We got into the worst fights when I was with...the last guy I dated. She saw him for who he really was...I missed it completely."
"You were in love, I would imagine." He said it softly, the idea of Emma being with someone else—even before she met him—a tiny knife in his heart. Which was the height of ridiculousness; Emma didn't owe him anything. She was with him now.
Emma wrapped the bandage around his hand. "I thought I was. Now I wonder." She repacked the first aid kit and put it away. "Come on, let's go to bed and you can tell me the real reason you came over."
They walked hand in hand to her bedroom. Killian kicked off his shoes and removed his pants and shirt before joining Emma in the bed. She sat up, pillows against the headboard, waiting expectantly. Killian took her left hand in his toying with the fingers, the silence getting longer and longer.
"I've never told you about Liam," he said at last, threading their fingers together and holding on to her.
"Well, you've told me some stuff. Like he played soccer. And he showed you the starfish. I gathered you two were close."
Killian laughed, but it was hollow. "Aye. Despite our age difference, we were quite close. Closer after my father left." If he was going to tell the story, might as well do it properly.
"Where did he go?"
Killian shrugged. "Dunno. Just up and left when I was about seven or eight. Can't really remember. But he left my mother with two sons to raise by herself. And we lived in a council estate."
"But things were fine for a while. I mean, not fine, but I don't know..." Emma huffed in frustration. "Sorry. Sometimes I forget we have different frame of reference. Please. I won't interrupt again."
Killian leaned in and kissed her temple. She may not completely understand, but she was trying. "Aye, well, we survived. Liam and I went to school. Played football and the like. Liam was good, he even tried out for the under 18s and made it, the arse. Wouldn't shut up about it for weeks." Killian sighed, remembering. He'd so envious of his brother then. What he wouldn't give to take that back. "Anyway, he'd just gotten his driving license. Mother had asked him to take me by our school for...oh what do you call them here? Science fair? I had project—the anatomy of a jellyfish sting—and she had to work. So he remembered to take me, but...forgot to pick me up again. I was waiting and waiting, and it got dark. Finally, he showed up, but it was obvious he'd been drinking."
Killian could still see his brother's glassy eyes. "I was tall for my age, so I managed to convince him to let me drive."
"Oh Killian." Emma tightened her hold on his hand, almost as if she knew what he was going to say.
"We were arguing, Liam insisting I was going to rat on him to Mother." He took a deep breath, his throat threatening to close up entirely. "The brakes on the lorry were faulty. It was out of control, swerving all over the bloody place. I wasn't watching, shouting at Liam and...and it side swiped us. The car flipped...I don't know how many times. I was wearing a seat belt. Liam wasn't."
Emma rubbed her thumb over his bandaged knuckles. "I found him a few feet away in a ditch. He was still conscious, but barely. He made me..." Killian took another breath, tears stinging his eyes. "He made me promise to live out my dream, since he couldn't have his."
He wasn't going to cry, damn it. He wasn't...Killian choked on a sob and Emma pulled him against her chest, holding him as he cried. He hadn't cried since his mother's funeral left him all alone in the world. Emma didn't ply him platitudes, she didn't say it would be okay or that she was sorry. She just held him until his tears were spent.
"I know this is the least helpful thing to hear, but it wasn't your fault," she said at last.
"I wouldn't get in a car for months, years afterward. Walked everywhere. Until Mother got sick. As she got weaker I was the only person who could drive her to the hospital."
"When did she die?"
"Just after I finished school. I left for Hawaii not long after."
Emma squeezed his shoulder. "I'm glad you told me. I know it wasn't easy." She got him to sit up, then cradled his face in her hands. "Why don't you stay here tonight. I can rebandage your hand before you go to work."
"Okay." The truth was he was emotionally zapped—between the quarrel with Will and telling Emma the horrible truth about his brother—he really didn't want to be alone.
And now he didn't have to be.
Emma gave him a tender smile and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "Besides, I like waking up next to you."
They fell asleep not long after, arms wrapped around each other.
Emma scowled into her closet, frustrated and annoyed. She was supposed to be packing a bag for the weekend, but she had no idea what would be suitable for spending two days out on the water. She owned a lot of cashmere and silk and high end cotton, blouses and shirts designed for the runway not manual labor. She'd bought some new things since arriving on the island, some expensive, some not. Killian had gotten her a souvenir t-shirt from the local shrimp joint as a gag gift, but she wore it to bed on the nights when she wasn't wearing something else of his. Or nothing.
Her bed hadn't actually been slept in since the night Killian had come over bloody. After what he'd told her about Liam, she didn't want him to be alone. So she made up excuses to come over, which Killian saw through pretty quickly. On Tuesday he'd given her a key to his apartment so she wouldn't have to wait in the hall for him to get home. They fell into a pattern, having breakfast together, Emma going out to shop for the evening meal while Killian worked.
What he didn't know was that she'd brought her laptop and was taking peeks at his school books while he was away.
It was something that had been percolating for a while. She'd come to the Hawaii to figure out what she wanted, to sort out her life. She wanted to find her niche, to hopefully use her name and considerable resources to make a difference...somewhere.
Killian had given her inspiration and didn't even know it yet.
It was still kernel of an idea. A way to combine a love of the ocean with her business sense. Perhaps save a few endangered species. Make the ocean safer for everyone. The reserves around the islands, she was finding, were woefully underfunded, undermanaged, under everything really. There were good people, but not enough money. She was still researching, but there had to be something. She just hadn't figured out what that was yet.
If she could get a proposal together, get her parents to take seriously...it was all she wanted really. To be given a chance. To succeed or fail on her own terms.
She hadn't told Killian any of this yet, however. Not because she was scared or doubted herself, but she knew he was dealing with a lot. Talking about his past had opened old wounds; he tried to pretend that he was fine, but Emma knew better. He was very subdued for a couple of days, not sharing their usual banter. Emma hadn't realized how much she enjoyed his innuendos until he stopped making them.
They were nearly back to normal now, his mood improving as their rescheduled date got closer. Now it was Friday night and she was trying to pack after Killian more or less kicked her out of his place. He wanted to be surprised, he'd said, to treat this like a proper date. Which included picking her up.
It was endearingly sweet and she didn't have the heart to refuse him. It was a simple enough request.
Her thoughts got interrupted by an incessant knocking on her door. Emma raced from her bedroom, wondering who in the hell would be bothering her at this hour. Killian always called first.
"Will?"
Will Scarlet stood on the other side of the threshold, looking both wary and defiant. She knew for a fact that Killian hadn't spoken to him since their fight; they were both stubborn it seemed. Will's nose was still a little bruised and...crooked? She couldn't tell. Maybe it was always like that.
"Killian's not here," she said. What other reason could he have for coming?
"Tha's good, cuz I'm not 'ere to see 'im. May I?" He gestured behind her, as if she would just let him in.
"What do you want?"
Will held up his hands. "I just want to talk. I swear. I come in...how do you Yanks put it? I come in peace." He sounded like a robot from a bad sci-fi movie.
Emma swallowed and stepped back, allowing Will to come in. She shut the door firmly, keeping her hands loose at her sides, just in case. She didn't want to hurt him, but that was up to Will. She wasn't putting up with his shit, whatever it was.
"So I, ah, assume ya heard?"
Emma raised an incredulous brow. "That you insulted me with no provocation and Killian punched you? Yes, I know."
"What exactly did he tell ya?"
"He told me everything. Why are you here? You clearly despise me and have come to that conclusion based on one meeting."
"I don't despise ya, lass."
Emma crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't believe you."
Will shoved his hands in his pockets, scowling. "Don't know ya well enough to despise ya. But I don't trust ya."
What the hell? Just where did he get off anyway? "You don't trust Killian either, do you? Some friend you are."
Will glared daggers at her. "That man is my best mate in the whole world. I trust him with me life."
"You have a funny way of showing it."
Will sighed and started to pace. "Look, lass. I'm not here to apologize to ya. What happened is between me and Killian. An' it's gonna stay that way. But he cares about ya, lord knows why. Won't bloody listen to me, but that's love for ya." Emma had a sharp intake of breath at that. Killian loved her? She had to tamp down on her momentary panic because Will was still talking. "I don't want to see him get hurt. He's been through too much bloody heartbreak for several lifetimes."
That got her to find her voice. "I would never..."
Will cut her off. "They all say that, lass. Believe me, I know."
The flash of grief in his eyes stung her. Could he really be human in there somewhere? "Anastasia?"
"How did ya know about that?" Will snarled.
"Hey, calm down there, Godzilla. Don't be angry at him, but Killian told me. Well, the basics anyway. He was trying to get me to understand what happened with you two. It's not his fault."
"Bloody berk," Will grumbled. "He had no right..."
Emma got in Will's face, fist curling in the front of his shirt. "I said leave him alone. He's still your friend. But that won't stop me from also punching you in the face. Are we clear?"
Will stared into her eyes for a long moment, but nodded. Emma let go of him and backed off; he smelled faintly of whiskey, even though he wasn't drunk. "I can be civil for his sake. Don't make me regret it, lass." With another nod of his head, he swept past her and out the door. It closed behind him with a click.
That was just great.
Emma pushed everything aside (including a certain word Will had used) and went back to her packing. She hardly saw what she put in, trying to work as mindlessly as possible. If she thought too much, she'd just reexamine every moment she ever had with Killian, wondering if she loved him too.
Killian picked her up early the next morning; it was cooler than usual, he was wearing a light jacket over his tank top, as was she. There were goosebumps on her exposed legs, which weren't entirely from the chill as Killian openly stared. She kissed him sweetly, hoping she didn't betray her nerves. Killian noticed nothing amiss, smiling that dimpled grin at her and putting them on the road to the marina.
Emma kept glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, trying to see if he seemed different. He appeared to be the same man that she knew, steady, cracking the occasional joke. He'd snatch up her hand at the stoplights, his thumb brushing her knuckles before releasing her. He was always touching her, not that she minded. Maybe he was just an affectionate person?
When they arrived, Emma helped carry their supplies down the dock. It was quite a walk; Killian's slip was a few rows down in the large marina. Even though it was early, there were quite a few people out and about, clearly having the same idea.
"Well, here she is," he said softly. "The Jolly Roger II."
"You named it after Captain Hook's ship?" Emma asked with a smile. She shouldn't be surprised, given how much Killian liked the story.
"She, Swan. Ships are always referred to in the female."
"Why's that?"
"It's tradition. Something to do with ships being named after the captain's sweetheart centuries past."
"Oh." In this case, she was a small ship with a sail, about twenty feet long. She was painted white with red and yellow accent stripes, the ship's name scrawled in looping cursive on the back. The engine was pulled up out of the water, just waiting for them.
"Let's get these things stowed, then we can head out." The sky was mostly clear, only a few puffy white clouds marring the blue sky. Killian stepped aboard first, holding out his hand for her. She accepted and followed him, swaying a little bit as the boat rocked.
"Um, this is a good idea for the klutzy person to be doing?" she asked, only half joking.
"You'll get your sea legs soon enough, Swan. I promise." Sure, it was easy when he said it. But as it turned out, he was right. Again. Within ten minutes, she was climbing about, handing things down the ladder to Killian, like she'd always been aboard.
Swans are graceful in the water, Emma. She smiled to herself, appreciating Killian's nickname for her in a way she hadn't before. How did he always seem to know?
Emma only grumbled a little when he made her put on a life vest. "They'll have my head if we leave here without them," he informed her. As he helped her strap it on, he brushed his hand tenderly over her neck. "I won't make you wear it the whole time, love." He pulled a little on the strap of her mostly hidden bikini. "Blue today, huh?"
She smirked at him. "You'll just have to wait and see."
He growled softly, covering her mouth with his in a too brief kiss. "You do love to torment me, don't you, Swan?"
"It's a hobby." Her hands slipped around his waist, under his jacket so she could touch him without being seen. Fingers inched below the waistband of his trunks, teasing the warm skin. "Do you want me to stop?"
"Never." He kissed her again, then pulled away, shrugging into his own life jacket. "Best have a seat until I get us out of the harbor, love." She did as he asked, putting her sunglasses back on. The sun was getting higher every minute, the chill burning off slowly. Emma relished the wind in her face as they sped toward the open ocean. The salty scent got even stronger once they were away from the shore, the water deep blues and greens she'd never seen before. Emma leaned a bit over the rail, just watching.
"If we're lucky, we might see some dolphins!" Killian shouted over the roar.
Emma turned, grinning. She would definitely like that. First, however, Killian had to go check his traps. Killian guided them expertly, one hand on the sleek metal wheel, pausing occasionally to point something out. Emma was surprised at how much there was to see considering it was daylight and there weren't many other people around.
This was so much better than staying on the shore and watching.
They spent the first couple of hours tracking down all of Killian's traps. There were about a dozen of them, all marked by buoys to warn other sailors and surfers. There were some of them out as well, catching the early morning waves.
"Is nighttime the only time people don't surf around here?" Emma asked, clipboard in her hand. She was copying down the readings as Killian read them off to her, hoping to speed things up.
"Don't say that too loudly, Swan. I bet there are some crazy wankers who try it then as well."
"I don't get the appeal."
"You've never tried it?"
Emma huffed. "Have you met me? It'd just be embarrassing."
"You're not completely uncoordinated, love. I bet you dance rather well."
"How did we go from surfing to dancing?"
"We didn't. I did. And now that I think about it, I've yet to see you dance." He put the last trap back into the water and turned to face her. "What do you think, Swan? Perhaps a fancy dinner date?"
They hadn't had one of those, a serious truly romantic date. Everything so far had been pretty casual. She was going to refuse on instinct, but then she caught longing in Killian's blue eyes. She'd seen it there before, but had attributed it to the deep attraction they shared. But this was different. More. He was trying to really date her, to sweep her off her feet.
And she was pretty sure it was working.
"Sure," she said finally. "I'd like that."
He grinned and kissed her. "Then it's a date." He looked her over; it was warm enough now that her jacket was gone, even though he'd forced her to put the life vest back on. "Now how about we see about getting you out of this."
"Does that involve getting me out of other things as well?"
Killian looked around, his jaw clenching when he saw a stray boat. "Give me five minutes." He fired up the engine again, leading them north, the North Shore receding in Emma's vision. When it was only the tiniest speck, they stopped. The boat swayed gently in the water, Killian lowering the anchor. Emma stowed her things, snatching up the blanket Killian had brought.
"Always prepared, aren't you?" she teased, shaking it out and spreading it in the most open spot on the deck. It wasn't a large space, but they could make it work.
Killian caught her by the hand, kissing her palm. "I was in no way prepared for you, lass." Emma shivered despite the warm sun, Killian's lips brushing butterfly kisses to her palm, her wrist. He moved higher up her arm, eyes locked with hers. His other hand unstrapped her life vest, dropping it to the deck. Her heart sped up; she licked her lips, he was very close to her now.
Emma moved first, unable to see those eyes boring into hers, kissing him hard. She pulled impatiently at his life vest, getting it off so she could work on his shirt. "Swan, slow down," he murmured, fingers teasing her stomach. "We've got all the time in the world."
Emma knew he was right; she slowed her hands, going back to kissing him. He was an amazing kisser, understanding instinctively what she wanted, a deep bruising kiss, or a tender give and take or long slow kisses that threatened to steal her sanity. He knew what she wanted before she did, kissing her, touching her, like it was what he'd been put on the earth to do.
Somehow they made their way to the deck, only partially cushioned by the blanket. Killian had her tank and shorts off in a blink, revealing the dark blue bikini she was wearing. It was similar to the red, scraps of cloth put together with ties. His eyes darkened to a similar color and Emma realized that was why she'd bought it. It was the same color as his eyes when he looked like he wanted to devour her.
God, she loved that look.
"You are trying to torment me," he said quietly, hands sliding over the bare skin of her stomach. "Wearing practically nothing but the tiniest scrap." He lowered his head, licking the swell of her breast. "Do you know how much I wanted you the other day? At the beach? Dressed like this. Smearing lotion all over this delectable skin."
His voice dropped as he spoke, getting rougher, his accent thicker. Emma shivered, that tone doing wicked and terrible things to her. She'd seen him needy before, on the edge, but this was different. Darker somehow. There was an authority to his voice that she'd never heard before.
"Maybe I did it on purpose," she replied, back arching. "Captain."
Killian inhaled sharply, locking his dark lust filled gaze with hers. "Did you now? If I didn't know better, I'd think you wanted to be fucked out where anyone could see us." His hand slid over her bikini clad cleft, stroking her through the fabric. "And now look where we are."
Emma rolled her hips into his touch, the friction not nearly enough. "I told you," she breathed, bringing his other hand up to her lips and sucking on the pads of his fingers. "I can't stop thinking about you, wanting you to touch me."
Killian pulled his hands away long enough to shove down his trunks, his cock bobbing against his stomach. Emma licked her lips, wondering what he would do to her, her mind racing with possibilities.
"What do you imagine, love?" His hand resumed stroking her, sliding up and down her covered slit, her legs falling open of their own accord.
She had to tear her eyes away from his cock. "All over," she said, admiring her own brazenness. Dirty talk wasn't her forte, but she could see how much it turned him on. "I've imagined us all over, in the shower, bent over my couch, the kitchen." Killian's fingers slid under the edge of her bikini and she moaned.
"Anywhere else?"
"That day at the beach. I wanted you to take me in the water."
Killian cursed, jerking on the ties to her bikini. The scrap fell away, tossed over his shoulder. "Don't move," he ordered, reaching for his discarded backpack. Emma hear the rip of the foil and bit her lip, thankful he wasn't going to keep her waiting any longer.
His arms curled under her knees, yanking her to him, her legs resting on his thighs. He pulled her up against his chest, her sopping core grinding into his hard cock. Killian kissed her deeply, Emma clinging to his neck, his nimble hands removing her last scrap of clothing. "Like this?" he growled, lifting her hips and impaling her. Emma moaned loudly, feeling full at last.
"Answer me, Swan."
"Fuck. Yes!" She circled her hips, knowing he liked that, wanting to feel every inch of him.
He let her set the pace, rocking in his lap, his own hips chasing hers every time she rose. "Christ, you're so tight. Wet and hot, so hot for me, lass." He cradled her ass, squeezing her cheeks as she rode him, mouth licking a path down to her bouncing breasts, capturing a hard peak. Emma cried out, her core clenching as another wave of desire rolled through her. Killian grunted, their rhythm faltering. "Fuck, do that again. Feels so bloody good."
Emma squeezed her inner muscles on every downward thrust, pleased when she saw his eyes roll back in his head. The next thing she knew she was on her back, Killian pounding into her like mad, one leg over his shoulder. His eyes were black, every muscle straining as he took her, his pelvis hitting her clit over and over.
"Mine," he growled into her ear. Emma shivered hard, his possessive tone unexpected, but not unwelcome.
"Yes," she mewled, clawing at his back. "Oh god, fuck." Her orgasm slammed into her so hard she nearly blacked out, her vision swimming, unintelligible sounds tumbling from her lips. Killian followed a heartbeat later, still pumping into her, drawing out her pleasure until she couldn't breathe. When he rolled off her, it hurt, her leg falling to the deck with a soft thump. Dull pain mixed with her lingering high as her heel throbbed.
"Sorry, sorry," Killian muttered softly, drawing her into his chest. He kissed her sweaty brow tenderly, still panting.
"It's...ow...okay," she mumbled, her voice barely louder than a whisper. She didn't expect him to even hear her over the sound of the waves lapping against the boat.
Killian's low laugh rumbled his chest and Emma smiled. "I'll carry you around for a week in penance," he said, hugging her.
"You didn't hurt me, dummy."
"God, it's so easy to lose my head with you, lass."
"I know what you mean." She couldn't seem to control herself around him either. She just wanted all the time.
"Well, we haven't gotten arrested for public indecency yet, so perhaps we're more in control than we think."
Emma laughed. "Yeah, maybe."
They didn't stay like that long; the sun was high in the sky now, they needed to take care of some necessities like food and sunscreen. Emma put her shorts on over her bikini bottoms, hoping to avoid any further temptations until later.
As it turned out, they did get to see some dolphins and sea turtles. Killian even raised the sail (it was a bit tatty, but Emma wisely didn't say anything) and gave her a turn at the wheel. She had to admit it was kind of thrilling to be guiding the vessel by herself, almost as if she could feel the subtle power of the ocean, connected to it.
They anchored again at dusk, Killian saying something about watching the moonrise. They set up a pile of cushions—where they came from Emma had no idea, but they smelled like Killian—in the bow, settling in with the wraps Killian had made for dinner.
"You can see much better out here," he informed her, tucking her into his side. "No artificial light."
"We could see a lot before. More than New York anyway."
"This is better, trust me. Seeing the moon reflected on the water? Nothing's better than that."
Emma smirked. "Nothing, huh?"
Killian laughed. "Almost nothing, lass, almost nothing." He hugged her a little tighter and she sighed. It felt like they were the only two people in the world; there was no angry mother waiting for her at home, no self doubt. It felt she was herself for the first time—maybe ever—and Emma liked what she saw. Deep down, she knew that was in large part due to the man next to her.
Stargazing, as pretty as it was, could only hold her attention for so long. The sway of the boat made her drowsy; combine that with Killian's solid warmth and she was out like a light.
So she was pretty damn pissed when a cold soaking rain woke her up.
"Really?" she grumbled, blinking against the unwelcome wetness. "What the hell?"
"Best get down below, Emma." Killian's voice was serious, none of his usual teasing. That automatically put her on the alert. The wind was picking up too, coming from...she had no idea because they were on the water. There was a crack of thunder and she flinched.
"Killian?"
"Go, love. I'll be along shortly; I just have to tie a few things down."
Emma gathered an armful of blankets and cushions, picking her way to the ladder that led below. More thunder boomed; she wondered where the storm had come from. Was it supposed to rain? She'd checked the weather; it was supposed to be nice. Emma tossed the wet things into a corner and dug for her bag; she needed some clean dry clothes. Emma was pulling Killian's UH tank over her head when she heard a loud clank, almost instantly followed by a thump.
A heavy thump, like a body.
Killian.
Ignoring the rain, Emma dashed up the ladder again, looking around for him. "Killian? Killian?"
There was scuffling over to her left. "I'm alright, just slipped is all." Emma could just make out his outline in the dark; he was on his hands and knees, tying off one of the ropes to the rail. He made his way over to her; he swayed, but Emma couldn't tell if it was him or boat. They weren't rocking too much, despite the brisk winds.
Emma helped him awkwardly down the ladder, wincing when she saw his face. "You've got blood running down your chin," she admonished. "Go sit, I'll get you cleaned up."
"Honestly, I'm fine."
"Don't try to pull that macho shit with me, Killian Jones. Sit." He did as she asked, pulling his soaked shirt over his head. When Emma returned with the first aid kit, he was all smiles again. "What's so funny?"
"You get to play nurse again, love."
Emma rolled her eyes. "Don't remind me. What happened?" She wiped at the blood carefully; now that he was out of the rain it was matting in his scruff.
"I told you. I slipped. The deck's bloody soaked, I lost my footing in the lighting. Banged my head on the rail."
"Does it hurt?" What were the symptoms of a concussion?
"Like a bitch, but I'll live." Emma looked carefully into his eyes; he seemed fine, he was lucid, knew who she was.
Killian frowned at her, taking her hands in his. "Emma, love, I'm fine. I swear." Her smile flickered, not reaching her eyes. She bent down to kiss him; he responded eagerly, molding his mouth to hers, chasing away the lingering chill. "Did I pass?" he asked, kissing her nose.
"Yeah." She turned her attention back to his cut, cleaning it with alcohol (Killian whined, the big baby), and applying some Neosporin before covering it with a Band Aid. After that she let him get changed; they needed to make another place to sleep until morning. The only "bed" was narrow with a thin, barely there mattress.
The storm was gone in another hour, a sea squall, Killian called it. "It's my fault," he declared, squeezing with her into the bed. They lay on their sides, Killian spooning her from behind. "I brought us too far from shore."
"It's okay, it's just rain." She'd lived with sudden thundershowers in New York, dashing from a limo to her penthouse or vice versa. "I'm just glad you're okay." She couldn't get that dull thump out of her head; what he'd been hurt worse?
"I have a beautiful lass to look after me," he teased, nuzzling her neck. She heard him yawn, his hand sliding underneath her shirt, the way it did when they slept like this.
Emma remained awake for a long time, thinking. That sinking terrible feeling she'd had in the split second she thought he was hurt. That feeling only came from only one place. She'd grown so comfortable with him, with them...it hit her like an oncoming train.
She was in love with him. In the big scary way.
She was so beyond screwed.