This chapter is a bit long, but it contains some of what you guys have been waiting for…

Thanks again for your comments, kudos, favorites, etc. I love to read them and see what you are thinking and how you are interpreting the things in my mind.

Mary Margaret's kitchen smelled of apple and onion chutney she had made, a special recipe that she had found online and been dying to try. The pixie haired woman was in overdrive, her little frame dodging from one item to another as pots boiled on the stove and heat radiated from the oven. She stopped long enough to wipe her hands on her apron – a definite throwback that she had embraced – shake Killian's hand followed by a quick embrace of Emma. "He's cute," she whispered into her friend's ear as the blonde pushed a bottle of wine into her hands.

There were no real guests when it came to the teacher's loft apartment. Emma was handed a knife and a couple of tomatoes to dice for the salad and careful instructions for size and shape while Mary Margaret put Killian on jar duty by opening various containers for her.

When the teacher leaned over and removed perfectly browned cookies from her oven, Killian had to choke back a laugh that only served to earn him a dirty look from Emma. She practically hissed for him to shut up when Mary Margaret asked innocently if he preferred oatmeal raisin or chocolate chip.

"I'm a fan of both," he said. "But I do have to say I'm a bit partial to chocolate chip."

Emma grunted and stared forlornly at her packaged cake. She hated this display, as she did have some skills in the kitchen. She had worked her way through the community college program as both a server and kitchen help at Granny's on the weekends. For anyone, especially Killian, to think she was completely inept in the kitchen was highly embarrassing.

Mary Margaret was moving at lightning speed around the kitchen, throwing in pinches of salt and appraising her work with a discerning eye. In between taste tests and complex measurements, she praised the wine selection to Killian who quickly admitted it was Emma's choice.

"Emma?" she said, sounding confused and surprised. "I've never known you to…"

"I can pick out wine," she said, frowning. Her knife clanked against the heavy glass cutting board in a defiant sound. "I have been drinking it for a while now."

"Of course," Mary Margaret said, reminding Emma again that she didn't like to insult anyone. "I should have known." Remembering that she wanted to place the freshly made rolls in a basket, she scampered up the stairs with strict instructions for Emma and Killian not to lift any of the lids off the pots.

"To think you could have avoided this," Emma said, blowing a stray curl out of her eyes. "If only I had answered my phone." She sliced through another of red tomato.

"I was quite enjoying our smoke laden activities," he said, moving behind her, his arms going around her waist. He only meant it to be a little bit of a hug, something to tide him over as the thought of not touching her was too much. However, she leaned back into it at the same time, closing her eyes as the knife went to make another slice.

"Shit!" she exclaimed, holding her hand and looking at the knife as if it had personally offended her. Killian circled to her side, lifting her cut hand closer to him to inspect the injury.

"It doesn't appear to deep, love, but I'm sure it stings," he said, wrapping one hand around her forearm and pulling her toward the sink. "Let me clean this up for you."

Biting down on her lip, she held back the string of words that threatened to come out of her mouth. She was ready to scream and cry over the searing pain from the knife, but she did not want yet another experience with Killian to end in her breaking down in near tears and running form him. So she allowed him to rinse of her hand, hearing him ask a newly returned Mary Margaret about a bandage and wrapped her hand up in it, all the while trying to amuse and distract her so that she would not concentrate on the pain.

He wrapped it perfectly, kissing her knuckles with a feathery movement that made her smile at his gentleness. "It's not that serious," she reminded him as he smoothed his thumb over the bandage. "I'll live."

"Can you fault me for not wanting to see you hurt?" He looked ashamed. "I shouldn't have distracted you."

Mary Margaret made a bigger deal of it than necessary too, switching Emma to duty without sharp instruments and continually asking after her through Killian. "I am standing right here," she said more than once as the two found a conversational topic about Emma and her quirks.

"She might be a tough deputy, but don't let her watch a horror movie after dark. I did that once and she slept with a butcher knife in the bed." Mary Margaret giggled gleefully at Killian's intrigued look at such information. "I found her curled up with one hand on it and one hand on her cell phone."

"Please tell me you got a picture of that," Killian said, laughing yet rubbing Emma's arm in a consoling manner.

"It was a scary movie," Emma protested. "Usually I'm fine about those things." She was actually very brave, but something about the murderous child who killed with no regard for anyone was too much for her. She still could not stand the name of the movie to be uttered in her presence, which thankfully Mary Margaret respected.

The two carried on for a few more minutes with Mary Margaret acting reluctant yet joyful about her revelations and Killian eating them up like appetizers. Emma huffed and carried dishes to the table, pretending to be more annoyed than she was at the time. While she hated being the butt of a joke, she was more than a little pleased that Mary Margaret and Killian seemed to be getting along. It made it somehow easier that her best friends did not see anything wrong with him either.

David arrived just as his girlfriend was removing dinner from the oven. The clenched jaw and his the way he gripped the back of the chair as he greeted Killian and asked Emma how she was doing told her that he was clearly bothered by something.

"Just a rough situation at work," David told her, grabbing the bread basket from her and setting it on the table. "We'll chat about it some other time." Emma knew better than to press, but she also knew that he had a completed a late afternoon meeting with Regina over some budgetary issues and an upcoming council meeting. She hoped it was not too bad of news on the fiscal front.

Emma found that she enjoyed watching Killian with her friends. He was in possession of a great sense of humor and talked knowledgably about a great many topics. He and Mary Margaret talked a bit about the new curriculum changes facing the schools and standardized testing practices that he had read about in a recent edition of the newspaper. With David he talked about the department's initiative regarding parking on both sides of the street and a procedural show that Killian loved to watch and the sheriff thought was way too optimistic.

"I know the whole thing is bunk, but you have to admit it is a thrilling hour of entertainment," Killian said amusedly. "I find myself tuning in each week to see it." His eyes flashed at Emma, who had earlier admitted to watching the show too, much to David's dismay. When they were alone for a brief moment – Mary Margaret answering the door and helping a neighbor and David taking a phone call – he had practically glowed as he suggested that he and Emma might curl up and watch a marathon on Netflix sometime. It seemed to be such an innocent suggestion, but Emma could hear the innuendo in it, picturing him on her bed again and doing anything other than watching a television show.

"Don't get David started on that show," Mary Margaret warned when she returned, passing Emma one of the side dishes. "He yells at the television as though they might hear him in this make believe world."

"You appreciate my commentary," he told her, his hand brushing against hers. "I've seen you do your own share."

"I think he dislikes it since you told him that actor looks a lot like he does," Emma accused, happy to participate and not be the focus of the attention.

As the meal progressed, David relaxed a bit and even brought up the yacht rental to Killian. "It's my father's idea," he admitted. "I would rather just run a clean campaign, but my father likes to build on the Nolan name. He wants to make sure I live up to it."

Emma smiled sympathetically at Mary Margaret, knowing that the teacher had concerns over David's father and his influence. "David's father can turn anything into a publicity opportunity," she muttered, as Mary Margaret smiled back.

"Don't think I'm not aware," David answered. "Personally, I'd be satisfied to work at my job, build a life with Mary Margaret, and never hear the words, 'but remember the Nolan name,' ever again." He fidgeted slightly. "And if I have competition this time I'm afraid my father will get worse. But that's not a great discussion for tonight."

Emma's stomach rolled, realizing that David was unaware of Graham's plan to run for office and essentially put him out of a job. She did not want to be the one to tell him, but it was not easy to listen to him speak of plans for a victory party and already sounding like he was making his acceptance speech.

"I also understand that you might be interested in looking at a few options for search and rescue equipment," Killian suggested when David was moments away from thanking his supporters and the academy. "I think that is quite brilliant given Storybrooke's proximity to the open waters. One hates to think about the dangers when surrounded by that beauty, but it is a fact that there are a great many dangers…"

David held his hand up. "No need for the sales pitch, Killian," he said gruffly. "I know the need. It is simply an issue of money right now."

Emma removed the fork from her mouth, narrowing her eyes at her supervisor. "You aren't thinking to use the majority of the equipment fund on this idea, are you?" she asked. "I was hoping we could…"

Mary Margaret's eyes dropped to the table, obviously uncomfortable with a confrontation between the two.

"I've already told you that the equipment you have requested is not necessary and way over our budget. It would be nice, but it isn't required. Killian's right. We can't sit around waiting on other agencies to arrive with boats and sonar equipment every time there is a boating accident. Time is of the essence there. It isn't just a convenience."

Emma cast her eyes over at Killian who seemed very involved in his roast, unable or unwilling to look at her in light of the conversation. "I see where you stand on it," Emma said. "Obviously my opinion…"

"Your opinion is one of hundreds I have to listen to in this job," David said with a sigh, pushing his plate away from him slightly. "As sheriff, I have to answer to everyone in this town. While you and are as close as we are, I cannot solely base my decisions on what makes Emma Swan happy."

"David," Mary Margaret said warningly. "This isn't the time…"

"Sorry," he muttered, looking at each of the three people at the table. "I'm sure we can discuss this more later on."

"Aye," Killian chimed in lowly. "I should not have brought up business at such a nice dinner. My apologies, Mary Margaret. Everything is lovely. I must say that I'm quite impressed with your talents. You seem to be an expert in the kitchen and obviously wonderful at your job. Your talents seem ceaseless." He smiled his best smile at her, reaching over to squeeze Emma's hand that was currently fisting the skirt of her dress under the table.

***AAA***

There was no more talk of business or the upcoming sheriff's race at dinner, especially once Mary Margaret admitted to meeting one of Killian's favorite authors. The two delved into a lighthearted but rousing discussion of the book and its themes. When Emma remained quiet, both of them promised her loan of their copies so that she could read what they were gushing about.

They even turned their competitive nature toward a board game that was good for more than a few laughs and the four tried to remain on their best behavior. However, those instincts could not help but shine as the four stealthily tried to sabotage the others and keep their own assets about them. Emma frowned the one time Killian attempted to help her, alerting him to the fact that she would not condone favoritism or edges because of their relationship – whatever it was. When she won, which she did, she clearly wanted to be in control of her own victory. It was a lesson that he had learned about her. Emma Swan coveted her control in any situation.

Any of the unpleasantness from before was all but forgotten by the time Killian was helping Emma on with her coat. David and Mary Margaret had both covertly told of their approval of him, though Emma tried to remain poker faced about the entire situation. She knew that when Killian instinctively reached for her hand as they retreated from the apartment that two sets of eyes had honed in on that exact detail.

She said nothing until he had already pulled out of the tight parking spot and was headed back to her apartment. "I didn't mean to react that way to David's plans for a search and rescue equipment purchase," she said. "I guess it would mean a big commission for you."

Killian did not turn his head, letting only his eyes drift in her direction. "I did not mean to bring that up," he said, not confirming her assessment. "I can see that this purchase you wish for him to make is very important to you. If it would help, I'll see what I can…"

"I think this is between me and David," she said, picking again at the fabric of her dress with her fingers. "You didn't do anything wrong. It was me. I just want them to take me seriously sometimes. And this was just another example of David pretending to do that in his office and having another plan the entire time."

Killian drove on silently for a moment. "I may have only recently made his acquaintance, but I think that he does respect you," Killian said. "I see quite a bit of pride in his expression when it comes to you."

She was thankful for the lack of light in the jeep as they drove along, her face probably a rosy shade of pink from the compliment. "The feeling is mutual then," she said quietly. "David wasn't always the chosen one in his family. He had a brother, a twin. Everyone loved his brother James, who from what I knew of him was a jerk. Their father had all these plans for James. He'd run for city council, the State House, and eventually the US Senate. I doubt Mr. Nolan would have stopped there. He probably would have encouraged him to run for president."

Again Killian was silent, his right hand reaching out as he drove with the left and running his fingers over Emma's closest hand.

"James died a few years ago and there went all of the plans for a political career of that caliber. David was never interested in all that, but he couldn't quite convince his father that it wasn't for him. The whole sheriff thing was a compromise. He wanted to be in law enforcement. Mr. Nolan wanted him to run for office. Sheriff seemed a natural fit."

Killian smiled. "He seems quite good at it, love," he said, still smoothing her hand with his.

"I think he hates the admin side of things. He'd probably be just as happy to be a deputy, but…"

"His father would not be happy with that?" Killian asked, his expression blank. "Fathers can be like that. I guess."

She turned her face toward his, studying him in the flickering moments of light from the street lamps they passed. "You guess?"

He smiled wryly, withdrawing his hand as he gripped the steering wheel for the turn down the street where her apartment sat. Most of the businesses were closed, darkened windows and empty sidewalks the norm. "You aren't the only one without family to speak of, Emma. I had one once. A mother, a father, a brother…" He broke off, his eyes trained in front of him. "Now…"

"Now?"

"I don't have them," he said. "Don't worry, love. I won't bore you with a pitiful tale that would not even make for a good movie. It is not that unusual."

She remained silent too, the apartment coming into view ahead of them. He pulled into the lot and nosed his jeep into one of the last parking spots. "I'd like to know," she said softly. When he didn't answer, she worried that he had not heard.

"Emma, perhaps another time," his voice said in a strained way that made her cringe.

"I won't push," she answered.

They both sat there quietly for a moment, the jeep's engine clicking and settling after he had turned it off. She leaned across the console and brushed her mouth against his cheek, the stubble tickling her lips. Using her fingers, she turned his face to hers, letting her eyes rest on his before she brought her mouth to his. It was a light nip and then another before he pulled back. "Are you going to invite me back up to your apartment?" he asked, as if she had not already done so.

She nodded yes, falling back against the seat ungracefully. "Might be more comfortable than here," she said.

"Perhaps."

The same silence that had fallen over them in the car followed them upstairs to her apartment. He followed her inside, hovering near the door as she flipped on a lamp and threw the keys to her apartment in the ceramic dish on the table. "Less smoky?"

"Aye, almost breathable," he said, grateful for something to say to her after the awkwardness. He had held back, something he did not like to do. But he didn't want to taint her thoughts of him with the idea that his demeanor and life were somehow influenced by tragedy. She had clearly come through so much herself that it seemed almost wrong to somehow compete for who had the more tragic of upbringings.

"Wine?"

He was still hovering near the front door, having not taken a step toward the couch or chair. She probably had noticed, he thought, but still said nothing about it. It was his turn to nod. That gave her something to do, something other than look at him as though he were about to regurgitate every awful occurrence in his own life for some sympathy.

She sipped hers while he gulped his, both of them looking around the room as though something might have changed since they left earlier. He was fighting an urge to shut her out. The confession of his own family's broken state in the jeep had been unexpected even for him. She had told him over their second dinner together that she never felt like she was enough for anyone. She wasn't enough for a family to adopt. She wasn't enough for anyone to love. He begged to differ. Sure there were plenty of men who would love to have her for a night, to bed her and try to harness all that was still wild and free about her. But none of them would know what to do with a woman like Emma beyond that. They would be lost and so would she.

She had returned to the kitchen to bring the bottle over to the couch where she had led him. On the way back she turned on some music, smirking at the soft sounds that were a bit too cliché even for this situation.

"You seem nervous," she said, stating the obvious. "You do realize that we don't…"

"It's not that," he interrupted. "I feel like a bit of a fool. I was trying to help you feel better because something is obviously troubling you. And yet all I did was begin to whine about my own situation. I'm sorry, Emma."

"Killian..." he stopped her and grabbed her hand.

"Love, I'm sorry...I just..." now it was her turn to wonder what to say or why this seemed so much harder than before.

"It's okay...I just wish there was something I could do,"

"There is...dance with me," he stood up.

"Sure," she smiled, as it seemed an easy enough request.

He led her to the center of the small room, smiling that it was a slow melody coming from her speakers. He pulled her to him, settled his hand on the small of her back and kept a hold of her hand with his other. They looked at each other and in one movement he pulled her closer to him and her hand slid up his arm to the nape of his neck.
Their eyes never left each other.

His hand began make slow circles on her back - she in turn slowly bushed the nape of his neck. He could feel the primal stir that he did anytime he held her like this. He leaned in closer to her, brushing his check against her temple.

Emma seemed to float. She felt the slow, almost tortuous circles against her back. Those thoughts began flowing through her again. Two songs passed before they even spoke again, each one they danced a little slower and little closer to each other.

"Emma..." Killian whispered.

She simply stroked the back of his neck in reply. Knowing he was not saying it for a verbal response from her.

They had entered their on realm of sorts. Killian felt his own past and brokenness flitting away from him - for now. All he could see, all he wanted to feel was Emma. For that one moment, she was his as much as she could be anyone's. She had let him kiss her and hold her, dance with her, and pretend for a moment that both of them were not about to fall apart.

The music of the next song had a steadier beat, still not fast but more staccato than the ballads from before. He pressed his hips into her. She in turn ran her hands up and down the sleeves of his shirt as he exhaled slowly. She never blinked from his stare.

He had promised himself he wouldn't do it. Not until she could admit she wanted more from him than just a roll in the bed. He never broke his promises - especially those to himself. She reached up with both hands and stroked the back of his neck again. His breathing quickened - causing hers to do the same as he leaned down until their foreheads touched.

"Killian," she said, starting a sentence she did not know how to finish. "What are we doing?"

"Dancing?" he responded, waiting for her to make a joke of it or laugh it off in some way.

"And?" she prodded.

"And I have no bloody clue," he admitted, rocking back on his heels a bit. "Any ideas?"

She shook her head. She turned from him and, before he could stop himself, he'd reached out to grab her arm, preventing her from walking away. He knew it was a mistake the minute he touched her; the lightning quick need only she seemed to be able to create shot quickly through his body and straight to his libido.

They stared at each other for an endless moment, then Killian moved his hand up to cradle her face, cupping her delicate cheek as her long lashes flutter against the pad of his thumb. Slowly, carefully, he pulled her to him again. She went willingly, her body yearning for his touch beyond what she had already experienced. Her tongue shot out, wetting her suddenly dry lips, and Killian gave a quick, involuntary growl. They were less than an inch apart when he whispered her name like a tortured plea, watching her eyes darken with passion as they finally closed the space between them.

The moment his lips sampled hers the world exploded, the sound of her own blood a rushing sound in her ears as her body collapsed against his, absorbing his heat as she clung to his shoulders. It wasn't a suffocating kiss, or even a deep, plunging kiss; it was more of an experiment in texture and taste, bringing them both back time and again for more.

Killian felt her fall into the kiss and followed, his tongue reaching out to stroke her lips, then to savor the inside of her mouth as their tongues tangled together leisurely. His head began to spin along with the room, the buzzing in his mind consuming his reasoning thoughts. He stood in her living taking everything she would give, and returning the favor as she sought more from him.

The soft tinkling of the wind chime outside on the fire escape slowly sank into his brain, bringing him back to reality like a lukewarm shower. He surfaced reluctantly, holding her pliant body in his arms as he slowly released her, his breathing coming in harsh rasps. He wasn't looking for this, had decided not to pursue it; in fact until she was ready, but here he stood. She'd bewitched him, he thought, brought him down to his knees with one merry look from her.

He could have taken her to bed at that moment with few doubts that she would have encouraged him to do so. But instead he took a step back, watching the pain of rejection flicker on her face before she shut it down again. He might be guilty of pushing her away physically, but she was doing the same emotionally.

He'd pushed her away for a good reason, he reminded himself. He wasn't good with people in general other than work. He was really a very private person who didn't care for nights on the town or even small dinner parties like the one they had just survived. He'd been alone most of his life, having been abandoned by his father and lost his mother to her broken heart. He'd never allowed himself to form an attachment to anyone, with the exception of his brother, because he knew that eventually he'd be let down and hurt. Instead, he had relied on himself, not needing anyone to guide him or help him make plans.

He laid the past to rest years ago; Killian had found that it took more energy to hate those who had wronged him more than to simply let the mistakes they'd made go. But the lessons he'd learned as a child were too deeply imbedded to change, so here he stood, feeling alone in her presence, as he usually found himself in social situations. Only this time there was a hollow pit in his stomach, an empty space that he hadn't realized was there until he'd met Emma. It was too much to lay on her with a simple speech. She'd probably file for a restraining order upon such a confession.

He wanted to slap himself and remind his more logical self that he had done this many times. He had bedded women with whom he'd shared little more than a conversation about the weather. So why couldn't he seem to let his body take control of the situation with someone who was as beautiful as Emma Swan? Because he was scared, he realized with dull understanding; she scared the hell out of him with her wickedly tempting curves, her tough yet innocent aura and her bright smile. She was a forever kind of woman, not a weekend treat or a quick, no-strings-attached fling. And he knew that, as surely as he knew his own name, once he had a real taste of her he'd be addicted for life.

"You're going to have to explain this to me," she said as she watched him mentally wrestle with what to say to her. "Because I'm starting to wonder about you and why exactly you don't seem to be willing…"

"I'm wondering the same thing," he said with a sarcastic chuckle. "You'd think this would be easy. I can admit that the first moment I saw you I wanted to be buried between your legs. I've had my fair share of not so innocent day dreams about you, but I keep stopping myself and you."

She tilted her head as though she had not heard him correctly. "Why?"

It seemed a simple enough question. "Because I don't want this to be over," he said, hesitating only at her confusion over his choice of words. "I haven't known you that long, Emma. I can count on my fingers the number of times we have been in the same room together. All our texts are still saved on my phone. I don't know your birthday or even your favorite color. But I want to know those things. I want so much more than just sex. I don't know that we can make it work. I don't know how it possibly could, but I want it to and I don't think I'm the only one." He bit his lip, watching her close her eyes and run a hand through her hair to push it back over her shoulders.

Killian watched her movements go from fluid to jerky and knew instinctively that she was wrestling with herself just as hard as he was fighting himself. He felt suddenly and oddly vulnerable, like he'd never approached a woman before, and doubt began to seep into his blood.

"Do you ever think that you're a lonely person?" she asked, seemingly out of nowhere. "I don't mean every once in a while. I mean at heart."

He nodded slowly, watching her back away from him and sit back on the couch. She had clearly left room for him though she made no gesture other than to look at him and then the empty seat beside her.

"I have friends. Ruby and Mary Margaret. David and the guys at work. They are good friends. I spend holidays with them. We exchange gifts. I know their birthdays and food allergies. I know what kind of beer Robin likes and that David likes to unwind playing a video game though he'd deny it. I know that Ruby's not as free spirited as she seems and is actually really insecure. I know that Mary Margaret loves classic movies and hates the more modern stuff. But does any of that stuff really matter? Because I don't think it does. They know those things about me. They know my middle name and they know how I was not even put up for adoption but just abandoned on the side of the road. But I don't know that they know me." She closed her eyes again, summoning the rest of the words. "They are great people and my closest confidants, but they only see parts of me. And despite the short amount of time we have known each other, you see more. And that scares the hell out of me."

Her eyes darkened with emotion. "Because my identity is wrapped up in being alone. It's who I am. I go out. I hang out. I'm not physically alone, but I come back here and I'm safe. Nobody knows what it is to be me. And for some reason you do. And that's scary and exciting at the same time. I don't even know if I like myself enough to let someone see these parts of me, but here you are. I keep pushing you back and you keep charging back in like those parts of me aren't so scary or dark or screwed up."

"Those parts of you are just as beautiful as the rest of you, Emma," he said, his hand running over the bandaged hand that reminded him how horrible it had felt to see her in pain. "Emma, I don't think I've ever defined myself as lonely, but I suppose I could. All broken people are. We're all holding ourselves together so tight that we can't let other people see because that will mean we might fall apart again."

She sighed, looking at his hand and admiring the gentleness of his touch. "I want something more out of this too, Killian," she said. "I can't promise that I'm ready for it or that I'll do the right thing." He smiled at her with such a sweetly hopeful expression that she couldn't help her own version on her lips. "But I'm willing to try."

"That's all I can ask for," he said. "We can try together."

She nodded, closing her fingers over his hand. "We've done an okay job so far, right?"

"Better than okay." Killian held her gaze with intense, darkening eyes; what she'd said was all he'd hoped to hear. She cared for him and understood him enough to want to try to make something out of their mutual existence. Leaning down, he captured her lips with a slow, sweet kiss, rubbing his mouth over hers with erotic and frustrating caution. His kiss pulled a moaned from her throat, which in turn brought his arms firmly around her waist. Easing her body snuggly against his, he let his need take over, his senses quickly overwhelmed by her scent and taste. He deepened the kiss, sinking his tongue into her mouth as she readily opened for him, plunging into him with swiftly rising abandon. They had done this before, but somehow this felt more like a beginning than a conclusion.

Feeling a bit braver, he stood slowly, pulling her up with him. In a fluid motion and not removing his mouth from hers, he scooped her up into his arms and moved them clumsily into the bedroom. He did not manage to deposit her on the bed, as she slid down his body, kicking off her shoes and standing there before him in the narrow space between the bed and wall.

Emma felt her body catch fire, the hot glow of need burning in her stomach as she attempted to wrap her limbs closer to his. She felt him pushing against her abdomen and knew without a doubt that their embrace had just as swiftly sparked the need inside of him.

"Oh, God, Emma," he whispered, running his mouth over cheek and down her jaw.

She was enjoying his attentions and attempting to quell the doubts inside her that this would too end with an apology and frustration on both their parts. "Please, Killian, please," she begged, not quite realizing that it was her own voice. She only knew that if the coil that was tightly twisted inside wasn't released soon, she would die.

He growled deeply, her words more powerful than any aphrodisiac, and attacked her mouth, approaching her with more passion and near savage attention. She didn't realized he had eased her back toward the cast iron bed until she felt the mattress against the back of her knees; then suddenly she was falling, Killian's strong arms her safety net as she landed on the cushioned bed.

He let go of her lips as he made his way down her throat, marking her with his teeth while she writhed underneath him. He worked his hands between them, his heart hammering madly, and deftly unzipped and pulled her dress away from her body, exposing her full and lace covered breasts to his gaze. Killian couldn't stop his sharp intake of breath as he studied her creamy skin peeking out from the cups that he traced over with his fingers. She wiggled a bit away from him, unfastening the hook herself and peeling it away from her to his smiling appreciation.

"Oh, God, Emma, you're beautiful…you're just so beautiful," he breathed, gently caressing the tender flesh of her breasts.

"Killian," she stopped on a heady sigh, her body swelling and heating from his careful attention.

Then his lips were on her, tasting her, laving her, driving her insane with the sensations. Emma gasped and hissed her appreciation, digging her hands into his thick hair as he made love to her body with his mouth. She felt his hands hook around her thin lacey panties, pulling them down and away, leaving her open to the cool air of the room. Still, he kept his mouth traveling from one breast to another, lingering on the hollow of her throat as he moved back and forth. She wanted to feel him, Emma thought, wanted to have his hot skin against hers, his hard muscles pressed into her rounded curves. With impatient hands, she jerked the dark shirt from his pants, frantically pulling it over his shoulder blades and growling in frustration when he didn't immediately yank it off. When the cloth barrier was gone, he laid down on her, the soft material of his jeans an erotic contrast to her smooth skin, his toned and heated torso sending reckless sensations coursing through her body as the wiry hair of his chest tickled her warming flesh.

Words of her desire for him tumbled from her mouth at a rate that would have embarrassed her in the past. But the smile growing on his face and felt against her skin was reward for her blunt honesty.

"I know, oh, God, I know," he whispered back, capturing her lips with his again.

He kissed her long and hard, drawing her out while he discarded his jeans. Then they were naked together, their sweating bodies entwined as they searched and explored each other, building their need to a fever pitch.

"Killian, I want you, please," she begged on a ragged breath. "Please…"

He knew she was ready, knew he was more than, and positioned himself between her smooth thighs. He gave her a lingering kiss, then paused to stare down at the ravishing beauty underneath him. He plunged inside her, swallowing the quick gasp she gave, and held himself there as he relished both the sensations and reality of being united with her. He was not surprised when she began moving slowly, her breath warm against him.

Her body began to rock of its own volition, need building in her to be with him in every sense. The coil that had been wound so tightly was pulling taut with delicious anticipation.

Killian tried to control himself, but the feeling of her soft curves locked to his, her delicate body responding so completely to him, was too much. He rose and fell with her, letting her set the tempo as he held her hips in his palms and helped her keep a steady pace. He felt himself running towards the edge and held onto the rocky precipice with determination, wanting desperately for her to go with him.

Her body was suddenly washed in a scorching, sweet response and reached with it, searching for the release that was just a heartbeat away. She crashed into it like a wave of molten lava, the heat exploding inside of her as she melted instantly and completely into him, holding onto him as he let go and gave himself over to his body's demand for relief.

They lay together in the afterglow, holding onto each other in wonder and exhaustion. Killian pulled her head underneath his chin, dropping a gentle kiss on her head as she snuggled into his bare chest.

Thanks for reading!