Chapter 11
"For the love of Christ, Killian. You're supposed to be resting." Emma pinched the bridge of her nose for what felt like the eightieth time in the two days since he'd been released from the hospital. She should have known he'd be a terrible convalescent. The signs were certainly there in hindsight.
She watched him be polite and charming while under the care of white coat professionals. If Emma hadn't been so damn stressed out and paid closer attention, she would have also seen him angling to leave every time Dr. Whale came to check on him, and caught the flex of his jaw as a veteran battle axe of a nurse coolly ignored his blatant flirting in an attempt to circumvent the hospital policy that all ICU patients exit the facility in a wheelchair.
So far at home, she'd caught him trying to sneak out to the garage to put oil in his motorcycle, out on the back deck watering plants, attempting to pull-start the lawnmower and the most frequent offense - pulling up his work email on his phone while he was supposed to be napping.
"Do I have to pat you down every time I tuck your ass in bed?"
"You'd hear no objections from me, Swan. Pat down, rub down…whatever you think is necessary." His tongue poked in his cheek, eyebrows doing that thing,hands waving around even more dramatically than usual. "And do be thorough, love. Don't be afraid to really get into it."
Emma rolled her eyes so hard she swore she sprained something. "I didn't take two weeks' vacation to help you out just to watch you ignore doctor's orders and give you handjobs." She paused. "And stop that."
Killian ceased whistling the refrain from Louis Armstrong's "What A Wonderful World" and his lower lip dropped into a pout. "Amorous activities are off the table for three weeks and you won't even let a man dream? Maybe I should call that lovely blonde nurse to stop by and help cure what ails…what was her name?"
She didn't even bother to hide the murderous look in her eyes before she turned to grab her overnight bag out of the closet and started tossing her things inside. If there was anything years in the foster system taught her, it was efficiency packing.
"You know what? Fuck you, Jones. I don't need this crap. Call Will and Robin. I'm sure they'll be happy to jump off their investigation into who shot you in order to come babysit. Enjoy the next few weeks of listening to Robin try and pull off awkward phone sex with that woman he's been seeing and having Will inject your couch with beer farts and rack up your cable bill buying pay-per-view porn."
Emma was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and she didn't need this. Or him. Or the promise of relationshippy, albeit temporary, domesticity that may or may not have been half the motivating factor in her offer to come stay with him. She may be secretly trying a life with Killian Jones on for size (with a very large out at the end, thanks to the built-in time constraint – perfect for Emma Swan, Professional Flight Risk) but that didn't mean she was going to spend half a month being his proverbial punching bag.
She could feel him following her as she moved down the stairs with her bag at a breakneck pace, a fleeting twinge of guilt at the fact that chasing her was exactly the opposite of resting. She made it to the front door and swung it open before he grabbed her arm, turning her toward him. It made her blood boil.
"Get off me," she snarled, shaking herself free. "I am not here for you to shit on or treat like crap. I had a trip planned –" lie because where the hell would she go for two weeks alone? "- And instead of using MY time off for myself, I'm using it to help YOU recuperate. If you're going to run yourself down by ignoring Dr. Whale AND allow the piggish behavior of Drunk Killian make a guest appearance disguised as Pain Medication Killian, you and all of your different personalities can go fuck yourselves. With or without the help of that nurse."
My place: I have officially been put in it. That was the look on his face by the time she was done. Shoulders slumped, he scrubbed at his face with one hand wincing as his thumb brushed the edge of the long red line on his neck comprised of stitches and the scraping trajectory of the bullet.
"I…fuck. My apologies, Swan. There's no excuse for my boorish behavior. Truth is, I'm not all that good at downtime." His hand moved to scratch lightly behind his ear.
"You don't say," Emma deadpanned.
"Look, between the Navy, the job and bachelorhood, I run hard and fast and do what I want, when I want off duty. I've not had to make concessions for someone else in my personal life in a long time or step aside professionally since the investigation into Liam's death." Killian blew out a breath. "And that was all of a split second, because there was no evidence. No thread to pull. You know that feeling you get when you have nothing? Everyone in the department felt it. And now I'm being shut out of this investigation, too. Not even a goddamned email from my own unit to let me know how things are going."
Emma swallowed, feeling licks of shame creep down her spine as she touched his arm and lied to his face.
"You know how it is with things like this. A lot of desk riding to follow up on phone line tips and pavement pounding into dead ends. I'm sure it's just as frustrating to have nothing to report." Ugh, just hop in that hand basket, Emma, and ride it straight to hell. She reached up to brush a floppy piece of hair off his forehead, running her fingertips down the side of his face. She let her hand hover over his wound, wishing she could make it disappear.
Killian dropped his forehead to hers and they stood quietly for a moment. Emma absorbed what he'd said, knowing she'd be hard pressed to feel differently if she were in the same position.
"Well, isn't this cozy." If the sudden interruption hadn't already startled the piss out of Emma, the creepy giggle that followed certainly would have. She turned to see a short, slight man leaning on a cane. He was remarkably well dressed; black on black on black aside from the cream colored scarf around his neck. The woman standing next to him was also impeccably dressed. Emma couldn't recall how many similar outfits she'd pinned to a board titled "My Style" on Pinterest that were really more wishful thinking. Short full skirts, feminine blouses, thin belts, fitted wool coats, tights and sky-high heels that were somehow both sexy and demure.
The man saw Emma eyeing his companion and stepped forward shifting his weight and hanging his cane over his elbow, hand extended.
"Sheriff Swan, allow me to introduce myself. I'm Mr. Gold and this is my wife, Belle."
Emma reluctantly shook his hand, brow furrowed. The touch of his hand made her feel unclean. She knew from her agents in the field – Will and Locksley – that he owned the pawnshop where Officer Rogers and Killian had been shot. Even if she subtracted that from the equation, there was something about him she found unsettling, a darkness crackling under the surface. He was a stark contrast to his wife, a well-appointed ray of sunshine standing slightly behind her husband with a cheerful yellow casserole dish in her hands.
"Captain Jones." The hand she had shaken was extended past her now, an arm almost pushing Emma back against the doorjamb. Killian took the hand begrudgingly and she saw the anger flash in his eyes as Gold pulled him closer as they shook. What in macho power play hell? "I heard you were at home recovering."
Killian dropped his hand quickly enough for it to be considered borderline rude and Emma didn't miss him rubbing his palm on his lounge pants as if wiping off transferred filth. "I wasn't aware that was the sort of information that made the gossip rounds."
Gold's smile was both insincere and nearly crocodilian. "I make it a business to know what goes on in my town, Captain." He gestured toward Emma. "What a lovely nursemaid. It must be a nice change for you not to be alone. Or were you on your way out, Sheriff?" He looked pointedly at the she'd bag dropped in the doorway.
"I'm not going anywhere." Emma said it as much for Killian's benefit as Gold's. She wasn't leaving. Not as long as a creepy pawnbroker spouting forced niceties while looking like he'd sooner cut off Killian's hand than kiss it could drop in on him at any time. She announced Killian was overdue for a nap, shooting him a don't fight me on this look, graciously thanked the Golds for coming by and took the casserole dish out of Belle's hands, turning it over to Killian.
Standing on the porch, Emma watched as the couple made their way to a pristine Cadillac and drove away. She ushered Killian inside and picked up her bag, stepping back into the foyer and kicking the door closed with her heel.
"I'm not eating that." Killian poked the casserole dish he'd put on the counter. He was the image of a petulant child.
Emma snorted and looked at the clock. He was due for another dose of meds. She shook one out of the bottle and grabbed a glass to fill with water. Handing them over, she watched him closely as he swallowed the pain pill then crossed her arms and frowned at him until he opened his mouth to show he'd swallowed it.
"Tongue."
Killian scowled and lifted it so she could see he wasn't hiding the pill underneath. "I only did that once."
"It was twice and both times you spent the night kicking my ass because you hurt too much to sleep. Act like a criminal, get treated like one, Jones." She shrugged and reached over to lift a corner of the foil covering the dish Belle had brought. "Smells good." She grumped when he lightly smacked her hand.
"Didn't you see how fucktastically creepy that man is? Who the hell knows what's in this."
"What – you think he put his wife up to spiking a get well soon dish? The woman who looks like she couldn't chip a teacup without her eyes welling with tears? Sorry, princess. You'll have to wait for the evil queen to show up on your doorstep with a poisoned apple to live that fairy tale." To prove her point, Emma pulled a fork from a drawer and took a healthy bite from the dish. "Oh, God, this is good." The sound that came from her throat was nearly orgasmic.
"I thought I was the only one who could get you to make that sound, Swan." Killian leaned over and took a sniff of the lasagna. "Ew, is that eggplant?"
Guess her assessment about the whiny kid and vegetables wasn't too far off the mark.
Emma took another bite and talked around the flavors of spicy tomato sauce, undoubtedly homemade, and garlic. "You're out of commission for a while, buddy. A girl's gotta get her rocks off somehow." Two more quick bites and the dish went into the refrigerator, foil firmly back in place.
Five days later, she had Killian tucked in bed and was sitting in the chair in the corner of his room playing catch up with an update Will had finally sent. She hadn't had a lot of time to herself playing nanny and nursemaid. Information had been slow to come and she felt no small amount of guilt texting Killian's friend behind his back. He'd conversationally asked who she was messaging a couple of times and the easy lie of "my deputy" had fallen from her lips with surprising ease. The overt shadiness of it all had caused her to ask for an email instead.
Emma,
Add this address to your contacts. I can't send you anything through department email – gotta keep it off the books.
Here's what we know so far:
A partial bloody palm print was found on the inside the ledge of the broken window in front of the pawnshop. AFIS came back to a suspect from another robbery identified as "Felix" by a witness that went into the wind. Not sure if that's a first, last or alias. NKA. Not asking you to do bail bonds search magic, but…
Video surveillance a bust. Every business owner we talked to had nothing. Tapes full, equipment was for show or pointed the wrong direction to catch anything. Gold has state of the art system, but suspect cased the place first and knew how to avoid cameras. The one out front was damaged in the shoot-out. Prick already called the Chief about restitution from the city.
Fed ballistics confirmed same gun that killed Liam also fired bullet that hit Killian. Chief didn't want Bangor PD to be the only ones that touched it to cross i's and dot t's in case of future trial.
Be in touch,
Will
"What are you staring at so intently?" Killian's voice made Emma jump and her heart race more than it already was at the tiny little lead they had. Felix. She hastily closed her email app and looked up. A week since the shooting and he appeared to almost be back to normal. He was no longer sporting dark under eye circles and he had settled into a pattern of snoozing on the couch when he tired during the day and sleeping soundly through the night – something he attributed to her presence. The angry line on his neck was the only sign of his ordeal and there didn't seem to be much traumatic emotional fallout from the shooting. I told you, Swan, I'm a survivor.
Smiling, she stood up and crossed to the bed, putting her phone down on the nightstand, turning off the lamp and slipping off her flannel pants. Sliding into the huge bed – and the man already in it - was a luxury she'd miss once she returned home. The thought of sitting alone in her apartment again wasn't as depressing as it was before she'd read Will's message. She was anxious to hit the ground running and offer some help, something she couldn't do with Killian in such close proximity.
Speaking of…
A hand slid around her waist and down, flirting with the low waistband of her panties. Warm lips brushed the back of her neck. Without thinking, she sunk into him. Chaste kisses (and a few that had gotten out of hand) were the theme of the last week, both struggling to keep their libidos in check and follow Dr. Whale's directive. Days were filled with conversation and television, movies and books. Short walks and long sits by the water. Nights were more difficult.
Nights like this one where she's tired but not sleepy, and the press of his warm, furred chest against her back (and the press of an erection against her ass) have her abandoning caretaking duties in favor of the scrape of stubble against her shoulder and the feel of his hair, silky in between her fingers as she arches back into him. His hand moves up, cupping her jaw and turning her head so he can kiss her. It's careful but deep, all angles and sliding tongues, and it takes her breath away.
Before she can pull away and admonish him before things go too far, his hand slips back where it was and beyond, dipping lower until a long finger slides along her wetness.
"Let me have you, love. We can take it slow." Emma wondered if Killian even realized his hips were punctuating the words with gentle thrusts or how quickly the movements were melting her resolve.
The finger slid farther, crooked just enough to hit the spot that made her breath catch and belly twist, thumb circling lazily around her clit. Emma slid her hand behind her back, cupping him through his pants and the sound he made was enough to push her from we should wait to hell no we aren't.
With some awkward maneuvering – because trying to kick panties off underneath the sheets was never sexy – she stripped herself bare, settling back against him and Killian wasted no time pulling his own bottoms down just enough. The heat of his cock on her skin was heaven and he took himself in hand, teasing her from behind.
Two can play at that game.
She moved her leg, hooking her foot over his calf, opening herself up. When he went to brush against her again, she reached back to grab his ass, pulling him toward her. The length of his cock slid all the way through her wetness, the head hitting her clit at a delicious angle.
"Oh, fuck, Emma." His voice was low in her ear as he moved against her, pulling her more firmly against his chest.
Emma reached down, feeling him slick and slippery between her legs. A subtle shift of her hips had him sinking inside her on the next stroke.
"God, you are so perfect for me, love." He set a pace that was languid but thorough, shifting back and nearly slipping free before moving forward again, bottoming out. It felt so good, Emma found herself grinding back against him, urging him to go deeper. Sex with Killian was on a whole new level from anything she'd ever experienced. It had been different every time, but somehow familiar. It was as if they'd been doing this for years instead of a handful of times scattered between crises and crying.
He slipped his hand under her thigh and pulled up and back, changing the angle just enough for Emma to feel that distant beckoning. She reached between her legs again, needing something more.
"Yes, darling. Touch yourself for me. Want to feel you come around my cock." His voice was rough, wrecked and she wanted nothing more than to taste his indecency. Their position didn't allow for a full kiss, but Emma slid her tongue against his, licking at his lips and picking up the pace on her clit. "That's it, love." His breathing was labored, more with arousal than exertion. "Do you want to try something new?"
A few pages of the Kama Sutra flashed through her head and Emma was glad she had taken up the occasional yoga session over the years. She couldn't pull off any Cirque du Soleil moves, but she might be able to hold her own if Killian wanted to get inventive.
But oh, fuck, that's not what he meant.
"Just because I have to be gentle, doesn't mean you have to be. Do you ever get rough with yourself, Emma? Pinch those lovely nipples a touch too hard? Fuck yourself with three fingers just to feel the stretch? Tease that beautiful little clit until it aches and then…" He stopped moving on a backstroke, and she cried out at the loss until he rolled onto his back, taking her with him. Her knees fell to the sides and his hands glided up over her breasts and down to where they were joined. "…Punish yourself?"
She gasped when those two words were accompanied by a light slap on her clit.
"Ohgodyesdoitagain." It came out as all one word and the last syllable had barely made it past her lips and into the open air before he obeyed. If she was wet before, Emma knew now she was positively gushing.
Killian braced his feet on the bed and began moving again, fucking up into her with long, even strokes, tapping against her clit with the flat of his fingers. She moved her hand over his, demanding, "More."
"Oh, no you deliciously wanton thing. If you want more, you'll have to do it yourself. I'm an invalid, remember?"
He grunted as she sat up, seating his cock fully inside of her. Reverse cowgirl wasn't her favorite, thanks to a one-night stand from a bar years before who had too few inches and way too much liquor dick for her to be able to pull it off. This was different. He was different. She gave a few experimental lifts, loving the thick drag as he came nowhere close to slipping out. He spurred her on with dirty talk and it helped make her less self-conscious as she pleasured herself at his whim.
"Such a naughty girl, Emma, touching yourself like that. Go ahead and give yourself a little smack."
She complied and it felt so good, she followed it up with another one without being told.
"Fucking hell. I can feel how much you love it. Now I want you to try something else for me. Pinch that little button and pull on it. That's it."
Oh, holy…That was different.
Emma rocked her hips, trying to find the right cadence between fucking and fingers. Once she had it, it was a race to the finish. Head thrown back, she worked herself over, pulling rhythmically on her clit as she rode Killian. A litany of filth spewed from her mouth.
"So good…better than when I used to…ungh…fuck myself alone in my bed wishing it were you." She felt his hands dig into her ass, kneading the flesh, guiding her as she picked up speed. "I couldn't stop thinking about you. How much I wanted to touch you. Suck you. I even…mmm…got off at work once in the middle of the night imagining you were there to bend me over my desk." She choked back something that sounded like a sob as she felt the desperation rise up
"You are so sexy, I can't fucking stand it. That's it. I want you to come all over me. Come on my cock, love."
Emma's orgasm was silent. And long. And she came hard and all over Killian just like he asked. By the time she was able to take a breath, he letting himself slip out of her as he eased her back to lay on his chest, and running his hands up and over her forehead, brushing her hair back.
"Jesus Christ, woman. It'll be you who'll be the death of me, not the job."
Emma couldn't even find the strength to tell him it was too soon for that particular joke. Her legs and right arm were jelly and all she wanted to do was drink a tall glass of orange juice, maybe say a few words of thanks to Killian's dick and sleep for twelve hours.
"That was amazing. YOU are amazing, love." He kissed her sweaty hair and let out a long, streaming breath.
Realization dawned. "Wait, you didn't even –" She made a vulgar gesture suggesting he hadn't come himself and he laughed.
"Oh, no. I led the charge for this particular evening. I was finished well before the good stuff started."
"What? Why didn't you say something?"
"And miss out on all that? I'm a lot of things, Swan, but a fool isn't one of them. When a beautiful woman wants to ride you into oblivion and look all kinds of ridiculously hot doing it, you do not wave the white flag before the going gets good." Killian huffed a laughing breath into her hair. "Besides, it's my heart rate that wasn't supposed to go up and stay there. Whale technically didn't say anything specific about anything else doing the same."
Emma unceremoniously rolled off him and landed on the mattress face down with a huff. She stuffed one of the pillows under her head and closed her eyes.
"Don't talk about Whale when we're in bed. He looks like an emo Eminem enthusiast from his Slim Shady days on parent/teacher conference night."
A heavy hand landed on one of her ass cheeks and jiggled it.
"That's oddly specific."
"Yeah, well, Whale is specifically odd." Emma couldn't hold back a yawn. "Can we go to sleep now? Unless you can conjure up a glass of OJ." She didn't even bother trying to keep the hopeful tone out of her voice.
"I see how it is. Now that you're sated, I'm the beck and call girl around here."
"It's cute when you quote Pretty Woman after you talked shit about me watching it the other day. I guess someone wasn't as asleep on the couch as he pretended."
The mattress shifted as Killian gingerly rolled away from her and sat up at the edge of the bed. He took a second to stand and Emma was instantly in nursemaid mode once again.
"I can get it."
He waved her off. "I'm fine, love. A wise woman once told me, 'Don't go fucking up my hard work to rehab your ass, Jones' and I'm just heeding her advice." Standing, he made his way to the door buckassed nude - and what a nice ass it was. Emma admired Killian's backside until it was out of sight then dropped her head back onto the pillow and closed her eyes.
She stirred in the bed, finally waking two hours after he'd risen. The solitude had gone by quickly once he'd taken a quick shower, had a cup of coffee and then…
And then.
"Good morning, sunshine."
She sat up at his tone, not bothering to draw the sheet up to cover herself. Any other morning, he'd have been more than happy to gaze upon the quite stellar breasts of a beautiful woman in his bed. Not this morning.
He held up her phone.
"Your deputy's name is David, correct? Not Will." Killian tilted his head, waiting. Ah, there it was. "Which is funny, considering you've been telling me all week you've been in touch with your department when, in fact, you've been in touch with mine. Isn't that right, Swan?"
The second he picked her phone up off the nightstand, he'd hated himself. When he tapped in her security code and brought up her text messages, he'd hated himself. When he read them, the hate started to shift. And by the time he'd read the email Will had sent her the day before, he was blind with hate for her for keeping it from him: Fed ballistics confirmed same gun that killed Liam also fired bullet that hit Killian.
"Why the hell did you go through my phone?"
Oh, that pissed him off. "Nice, Swan. Classic deflection. In case you haven't noticed, I have eyes. Eyes that have been watching you skulk and sneak around here, acting like you have something to hide. Do you not recall I have an ex-fiancée who ran off with another man? You're not the only one dealing with obstacles here, Emma. You don't get to corner the market on being fucked up and letting it rule every damn thing you do. I was wrong to do it, but I was right – you have been hiding shit from me." By the time Killian was done, he was yelling.
"Will asked me not to tell you about the gun." She looked small and meek and he wanted to scream at her for throwing another excuse at his feet.
"I don't give a fuck if the Pope told you not to tell me. We may have only known each other a short time, but it's been a goddamned crash course. And Killian 101 pretty much begins and ends with 'He has issues when it comes to dealing with the death of his brother.' And you don't think telling me up front that I was thirty fucking feet away from the person who may have killed Liam instead of letting me find out like this?" He tossed her phone onto her overnight bag. It was already packed.
"Get dressed. And get the fuck out of my house."
He stopped short when she moved to block his way and stepped back when she reached for him.
"Don't you dare touch me."
She pulled her hand away but didn't move.
"Killian, please. You have to let me explain."
"I don't have to do a fucking thing. But you need to get the hell out of here." He sidestepped her, desperate to get away. Away from Emma, away from the brewing thoughts of malice and revenge against Felix, the otherwise nameless and faceless asshole who robbed Liam of his life and nearly cost Killian his own. The bitterness bubbled up inside and spilled over when he reached the door and he turned back to her.
"You know, Swan, the lone wolf façade thing you have going kind of worked for you when you were just a hot piece of ass worth hitting on at the side of the road. You know how it is – squeeze a good fuck out of them while you can because you know they're not good for anything else. But I'm glad I got to see the real you is no more capable of figuring out share your life with someone else. And that's why you'll always be an orphan."
He could hear her sobbing as he left her behind.