Chapter 19

The first time Killian woke up Emma only managed to get some water and soup into him before he dropped back to sleep again. The second time he stayed awake for about an hour, but his eyes were still dulled with pain and exhaustion so she only made sure he ate another bowl of soup before she coaxed him to lay back again and moments later he was fast asleep once again.

It was late afternoon when he woke up the next time, and this time his eyes were much clearer, his body moving less sluggish as he propped himself upright against the pillows, greeting her with a soft smile. She gave him a glass of water and he drank it up in one go before he leaned back again and let his gaze drift. It wandered to the stone on the bed table, and he raised an eyebrow in question when he met her gaze.

"It's Henry's birthday present for you," she said softly, leaning forward to brush her lips over his. "Happy Birthday, Killian."

"That's not how I've imagined spending my birthday though," he croaked, closing his fingers over hers to keep her right by his side. "I've imagined spending it in bed, but not like this. I imagined passing the time with more enjoyable activities." His mouth curled up into a lascivious grin and she felt her cheeks flush with heat as he cocked one eyebrow and added with a voice that shot a shiver down her spine. "With my wife."

"My present for you is still in London," Emma said hastily, ignoring the blatant flirting since they couldn't do anything about it in his weakened state anyway. "I didn't take it with us when we came here."

"I don't need a present from you," he replied, the teasing tone gone from his voice. "You being here by my side is present enough for me."

Her heart skipped a beat and her throat closed up as she looked at him. Her fingers started to tremble in his as she remembered how easily she could have lost him to a bullet and she gulped hard, adamant to finally get the words out. "I ..."

The door burst open, making her jump up from the bed, and Henry rushed in. "Killy! You're awake."

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she walked over to the table and righted the things on it until she was certain she had herself under control again. When she looked back at the bed Henry was lying on it beside Killian, telling him eagerly where and when David and he had found the stone, and Killian looked at Henry with a soft smile on his face, listening to her son's story attentively, and her throat closed up even more.

She loved them so much, and if she didn't manage to tell Killian soon she might explode.

Henry stayed until Mary Margaret came into the room, shooing Henry out before she started to change the bandage around Killian's wound, telling them that the wound looked fine and as soon as it had scabbed over she would administer a concoction out of honey and wine which she'd heard was helpful in keeping an infection away.

It wasn't as if Emma had any experience in wound treating so she hoped Mary Margaret was right. Killian just nodded in answer to her rambling; a fine sheen of sweat had formed on his forehead when Mary Margaret was finished with wrapping a new bandage around his torso and he laid back against the headboard and closed his eyes with a soft sigh.

Emma's heart was fluttering with nerves as she watched him; she wanted to tell him she loved him, she'd promised herself to tell him as soon as possible. Now she just needed to find the much needed courage to open her mouth and say the words.

"Are you all right, love?" Killian's low voice startled her and she tried to answer him but her voice just didn't want to cooperate. He apparently sensed her distress and lifted his hand. "Come here."

She walked over to the bed and sat down beside him, careful to not jostle him unnecessarily. She wasn't able to look him in the eyes, though. Instead she was staring at her hands, her knuckles stark white since she'd buried her nails in her palms so hard that she feared she might draw blood.

"Emma?"

She forced herself to look up at him, her heart hammering in her chest as she met his gaze, the lump in her throat grew bigger and bigger and if she wouldn't say something soon she feared she might not be able to get any words past it. She inhaled a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before letting it out with a shudder.

"I love you. And I'm carrying your child."

Killian definitely didn't expect to hear these words and all he could do was stare at his wife with his mouth wide open for several moments. Only when her face fell and she started to scurry away he managed to come out of his stupor and reached for her arm, closing his fingers around it to keep her on the bed with him.

"Love, I ..." He trailed off, searching for the right words, still feeling slightly in shock. He wanted to pull her into his arms, wanted to kiss her senseless, wanted to tell her over and over again how much her words meant to him, how much he loved her. But she wasn't even looking at him, her whole body trembling. "Would you please look at me?" Her eyes met his after a few seconds and he asked softly, "You're pregnant?" She just nodded, and his eyes flickered down to her stomach for a moment before coming back to her eyes again. His hand lifted on its own accord, hovering over her stomach. "You … we … can I ..."

Her small fingers closed around his and she pulled his hand to her stomach, putting their entwined hands right over the spot their child was growing and tears pricked the back of his eyes as he finally started to process what she'd been saying.

She loved him. And she was pregnant with their child.

"I'm not that far along," she murmured. "You can't feel him moving yet."

"Him?" he asked, his mouth tilting up into a huge grin as he skimmed his fingers over her stomach.

"Well, you need an heir and I hope that ..."

"What if I want a little girl with her mother's eyes," he interrupted her, pulling their entwined hands to his mouth to press a kiss on the back of her hand. "A little girl who has her strength and who is as stubborn as her beautiful mother."

"I'm not stubborn," Emma huffed, a furrow appearing between her brows as she scowled at him.

"I love you," he blurted out, his heart just too full with love for her to keep the words in any longer, and a part of him hoped to hear the words back again, to hear her say it out loud one more time since he still had a hard time believing it to be true.

Her eyes misted over and her lips started to tremble as she looked at him, her voice barely more than a whisper as she said, "And I love you."

He pulled her down until he was able to brush his lips over hers, cursing his inability to do more. He was only able to draw her against his body until her head was resting on his shoulder before his eyes drooped shut and sleep threatened to claim him again. He was still too exhausted to fight it, and he didn't want to either.

The last minutes had been one of the happiest in his life, and he knew when he would wake up again Emma would be by his side. She loved him, and she would stay by his side for the rest of his life.

The next two weeks were torture for him; he was bound to the bed for a week, every strenuous activity was forbidden, so he couldn't pleasure his wife as he wanted to. At least she spent every night in bed with him after he'd threatened to get up and find her if she refused to stay in the same room with him. But feeling her lithe body move beside him was torture in and of itself; he wanted to push her shift up and bury himself deep in her warm sheath, but every sudden move he made still shot a wave of pain through his body. He had to ignore his hard and throbbing cock because he was definitely not healed enough to allow his body to climax. Not in her body, and not by his own hand either. He wasn't ready yet, but it was driving him slowly but surely insane.

Another week went by in which he couldn't touch Emma like he wanted to, but he'd been allowed to leave his bed and walk around in the house. As long as he let himself rest as soon as he felt tired he was fine. His wound only sent a dull twinge through his body when he moved too fast, but he felt his strength coming back with each passing day and he'd promised himself that he would join his body with Emma's as soon as possible.

Twenty days after Neal had shot him he decided he'd given his body enough time to heal. It was time to give his body the release it craved ever since he'd woken up to see his wife sitting beside him on the bed, her hair flowing in golden waves down her back, the redness of her lips begging him to kiss her, the creamy skin visible over the hem of her dress begging him to trace it with his tongue. She told him she loved him and that she was carrying his child and his desire to make love to her had just grown even more.

The house was growing silent as his wife was getting ready to join him in bed, and he watched her walking around, his mind cataloguing all the changes her body was already undergoing due to the pregnancy. A glow seemed to envelop her whole form, making her eyes seem brighter, her skin creamier than ever. Her waist seemed fuller, her breasts seemed already bigger, and he longed to fill his hands with them, to feel the changes under his fingers, to see if her body was more sensitive now, if she still liked him sucking her erect nipples into his mouth to play with them until she whimpered under his caresses, if her body was still as responsive as before to his hands and mouth.

"Don't," he growled as Emma reached for her shift, his harsh tone obviously startling her as she looked at him with furrowed brows. So he took in a deep breath before he added with a low voice, "Please don't put your shift on, love."

She didn't question him, she only hesitated for a few seconds before she walked over to him stark naked and slipped under the sheets with him. He never looked away from her as he fumbled under the sheets to get rid of his drawers. He threw them on the ground and turned on his side, watching Emma's breath quicken when he closed his fingers around the fabric covering her breasts and pulled the sheets down, revealing her nipples to his gaze.

He couldn't resist leaning down to flick his tongue over one erect peak, drawing it into his mouth and suckling at it gently. She moaned softly, the sound telling him that she apparently still liked it when his mouth paid special attention to her nipples. He wanted to spend hours worshipping her body, but it had been too long since he'd been inside her and he just couldn't wait any longer. He pulled the sheets completely off her and settled between her legs which she'd opened for him without even a moment of hesitation.

But as he lowered himself on her he saw a flicker of concern cross her face. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"No," he murmured, leaning forward to capture her lips in a thorough kiss that left them both a little breathless. "But my body wants what it wants. I feel like I've been hard for you for ages." An adorable blush rose up in her cheeks and a giggle spilled over her lips, the sound making his heart constrict with love and his cock jerk with anticipation. He shifted atop of her, forcing himself to scowl at her as he said, "It's not funny, milady."

"It's a little funny," she objected and a shiver raced down his spine as her nails raked over his back.

He tilted his hips so that his cock parted her folds. "You think this is funny?"

The blush on her cheeks deepened, a small groan slipping out of her mouth as he pressed harder against her. "Ohhhhh, I ..."

"Lost for words, love?" The pounding in his cock was nearly driving him mad as he rocked against her core. He wanted to fill her, wanted to be surrounded by her heat. "Tell me what you want. What you need."

"You," she whispered, canting her hips upward so that his cock slid lower, pushing against her entrance. "Only you."

"How?" he rasped as he thrust forward, slipping into her heat a few inches. "Like this?" He went slow, gliding into her inch by excruciating inch, reveling in her soft moans. "Or more like this?" He snapped his hips forward so that he was completely buried inside her, her gasp making him nearly spill his release straightaway. He was barely able to hold back, his muscles starting to quiver as he fought the urge to pound into her without mercy. "Tell me."

Her fingers fluttered over the still slightly red scar slashing over his ribs, and he knew what she would say before the words even left her lips. "Slow."

She might want him to go slow only because she feared he might overtax himself and for a second he wanted to defy her, wanted to take her hard and fast until she screamed his name, but then common sense won out. He didn't want to collapse again, didn't want to give her another shock. So he went slow, pushing her towards the edge with sure strokes, keeping himself in check while watching her succumb to the pleasure.

Soon her breathing became erratic and her nails dug into his hips as she held on to him. She was close; he could feel her body trembling in need of release. Her eyes glazed over and he shifted his hips, pushed her legs even further apart so he could hit her even deeper, finding that sweet spot inside of her that drove her nearly insane under him. He stroked the spot over and over again with each of his thrusts, feeling the telltale tickle at the base of his spine, telling him that he was close to his own climax. But he wouldn't go before her, so he changed the angle of his thrusts to stimulate her clit every time he pushed deep inside her, hoping he could hold out as long as it took her to fall over the edge.

"Come for me, love," he rasped, feeling his balls tighten, his climax inevitable now. "Come for me."

He erupted inside of her the moment her walls contracted around him, milking him so hard that stars appeared in front of his eyes. She moaned his name over and over again while her walls were fluttering around him and his climax seemed to never stop as he kept coming and coming and coming.

His heart was hammering against his ribcage when the waves of his climax finally subsided and he couldn't keep himself from crashing down on her. His muscles were quivering with exertion, his blood was rushing in his ears, his lungs seemed to be unable to draw in enough air and he feared he might have overtaxed himself after all. But it had been so worth it.

He managed to roll off before he'd crush her, and it took him some effort to tilt his head and open his eyes to look at her. She was smiling at him as she reached for his hand, and his eyes fell shut again when her fingers closed around his, a wave of exhaustion sweeping over him as he listened to the frantic beat of his heart. He felt her curl against his body and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he turned his head so that his lips touched her forehead.

He was certain that his body would recover from this exertion very soon, but if he died in that moment, he'd die a very happy man.