Chapter 25

Emma’s Apartment

Friday 10:30 p.m.

Lying behind Emma, Killian couldn’t see her face, but he could feel the tension radiating from her body. He’d tried reciting the one thing guaranteed to deflate … the Miranda Rights. But even after repeating the same forty plus words at least five times, he still wanted. A whiff of her hair, the feel of her skin, or the wiggle of her ass against his most vulnerable flesh sent ideas coursing through his mind.

But it was the scene on the screen that proved to be the biggest bucket of cold water to his libido.

“It was too your fault,” the young boy cried, “you told her you’d be back.”

The feelings the boy exhibited were not unlike those he’d felt when his mother left home. Betrayal. Loneliness. Loss of innocence.

“When my mother left,” he found himself saying, “I felt much like that boy.” His voice trailed off, as going all dark and deep was certainly not what he had in mind for the evening. “Loving you has filled all the empty spaces losing her left behind.”

“Oh, Killian,” Emma squeezed his arm where it rested across her stomach, “you do the same for me.”

Her response had him holding her a little tighter and burying his face in her fragrant hair. But while Emma’s body had relaxed slightly, it wasn’t enough. He needed an innocuous subject for her to think about, “That’s a lot of power he’s got between his legs,” fell out of his mouth before he could stop it when, in the movie, the male character rode his motorcycle onto the naval air station.

Bloody hell, Reade, his inner voice scolded. You’re trying to move the subject away from sex.

I know! I’m such a dick.

There you go again, the voice continued. Move the conversation away from your crotch.

“Emma.”

“Hmm.”

“I want you with every fiber of my being.” Killian’s lips briefly touched hers. “But you were nervous and I …”

“Yes,” Emma interrupted. “I was nervous. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to jump you.”

“Is that all you want me for?” he teased. “You want my body to use like that floozie’s using that bloke in your movie?”

“You’re the expert on floozies,” she giggled. “That’s not the subject we need to discuss, though, is it?”

“You first,” Killian turned the table on her. “Everything was fine until you finished cleaning my wounds and after that … you were nervous.”

“How did you know?” Emma wrinkled her forehead. “I know you gave me the open book line, but how …”

“Your kiss was different,” he admitted. “The way you held yourself was off. Did you think once you were finished with your task, it would be I doing the jumping?”

“No. I, I think the enormity of the next step hit me, and watching a movie together was something … normal.”

“But?”

“You could have kissed the nervousness out of me,” Emma blurted.

Killian relaxed as her answer was what he’d surmised. She wanted him, but the pace had quickened a little too much, causing a disconnect in her thoughts and feelings.

“Emma,” he gently kissed her forehead. “When we make love, it will be because, here,” he tapped her head and then just over her heart, “and here, agree. Alright?”

“You’re right.”

Killian preened, feeling much like the peacock he’d compared them to a while ago, “Told you, Doc. Open book and all.” His lips played with hers, but he was careful to keep it light and teasing, “Anything else I can do for you?”

“Maybe, a little more,” Emma tapped her bottom lip.

The heat in Killian’s eyes turned them navy blue. “Glad–uhh!”

Emma’s eyes flew open in time to see Millicent launch herself from Killian’s shoulder to the back of the sofa, onto her mistresses’ legs and to the coffee table in quick succession. She was immediately followed by her offspring, as Trudi and Nina weren’t far behind.

“Bloody hell!” Killian sat up. “The little buggers did that on purpose.”

“Wait,” Emma chuckled, “you think they planned that?”

“Aye, Doc. We were kissing. They don’t like it when we’re kissing.”

“You’re not really mad,” she hesitated a beat, “are you?”

It took him several seconds before he would look at her. “Aye.” But the twinkle in his eyes and the twitch of his lips belied his statement.

Emma tried to keep a straight face, however, when all three cats jumped back onto the sofa, her laughter broke free. And just like that, her nervousness evaporated, and she knew what she wanted. Him. Only him and this time, the power was hers.

Emma placed the cats on the ground and pulled Killian down on the sofa behind her. The way he wrapped himself around her left no doubt that she was indeed wanted. She could feel the effect her body had on his in a way he could never disguise. And when she moved and his hips jutted forward, the telltale jerk said more than any words.

Could she do something about it? Hell yeah, but was that something she wanted? With her head and heart finally connected, the answer was simple. No. She wanted to savor and relish the way he bombarded all her senses.

The longer she lay in Killian’s arms, the harder it was to keep the arousal simmering just beneath the surface at bay. If she moved her head, she’d get a whiff of his soap. Or if he leaned closer, she would smell his shampoo. And the scent of his cologne caused her heart to race.

Damn, she thought. It’s supposed to be me who holds the power, not the other way around.

This time, her subtle hip movements were forward, away from the fire, instead of back.

His palm caressed the side of her hip, and a shudder raced up her spine. He made her head spin one minute, but then the next it felt disconnected from her body. She was totally off balance, and it was because of Killian. Only Killian.

Her breath hitched as, on the screen, Zach and Paula were caught in the throes of passion. Emma closed her eyes, willing her brain to not betray her, but her traitorous mind didn’t listen, vividly placing her and Killian in the same scene. When his hand skimmed along her side, she practically hummed in contentment.

“Th-There’s,” Emma moved her tongue, hoping to stimulate the saliva as her mouth was dry. “There’s the boob, I promised,” she finally squeezed out.

His chuckle was low, dark, and heady, causing her heart to race. “That’s not the boob I’m interested in,” he murmured, his thumb slipping up and over a sensitive peak.

“No?”

“No.”

Suddenly, she didn’t care the movie wasn’t over or who had the power. What mattered was how much she needed Killian’s touch.

“I need,” Emma rolled over, “you.” She hooked a leg over his hips and locked her lips onto his.

He skimmed his hands down her side and brought her shirt up to knead the skin of her lower back. Tingles followed in the wake of his touch, making her want more.

Emma wrenched away from his kiss, ripped her tank over her head, and tossed it on the floor.

Killian growled, and the vibration against her chest had a goofy, carefree grin crossing her face.

“Liked that, did you?” She placed sloppy wet kisses along his collarbone.

“Very much.” His fingers whispered across her skin. “Show me more.”

Her breath stuttered at the thought of what she wanted to share with him, but her lips were too busy for words. Teasing, tantalizing her mouth played across his skin. A kiss on his chin. Another on his cheek. The corner of his mouth. She was where she had dreamed of being for what felt like forever, and neither kittens nor puppies was getting in her way.

Killian’s lips chased hers, moaning when she wouldn’t stay in one place.

“I need you here.” He cupped her head and captured her breath with an open mouth kiss.

His kisses pushed the whirlwind inside of her higher, making Emma’s head dizzy, as she struggled to keep up. He cupped her breast, and his thumb teased the tip, ratcheting her need up another notch.

“So good,” he murmured, and her heart stuttered. “So good.”

A flick of his tongue, a brush of his hand, a whisper of his lips, until Emma couldn’t contain the groan of pleasure any longer.

Come on ….

She tugged his shirt higher in search of smooth skin. When he removed it, her nerve endings did a happy dance. Even more so when he pulled her close and her chest rested against his lightly furred one.

Keep going ….

With a few arm contortions, her strap slid down her shoulder and off her arm, freeing her breasts. The touch of her nipples against the soft hairs of his torso was electric.

How had she waited for this?

A squeeze here, a touch there. His hands were everywhere and nowhere, leaving behind heat … and want … and need.

More reverberated inside her head.

Emma slid her hands into the back of his jeans, and her fingers met the top of his firm gluteus muscle. It tightened, and his hips surged forward, pressing the hard wedge behind his zipper against her much softer body. A perfect storm was brewing, and it wouldn’t take much for it to be set free.

He must have read her mind because he shifted his thigh into the juncture between hers.

“Better, Doc?”

Their lips and tongues tangled while her hips moved of their own accord, but still, it wasn’t enough. The beginnings of the theme music indicating the movie was almost over, had her rethinking their positioning, “Killian.”

“Emma.”

His lips latched onto her earlobe, causing little shivers to work their way up her spine.

What he was doing felt so good, she had to fight not to sink into it, “No, Killian.” She pushed against his chest, “What are we doing?”

“Bloody hell, Doc,” he cried, dropping his head against her shoulder. “I can’t … don’t,” his body shuddered against her as he worked to bring it under control.

“Killian, you have it wrong.” Emma cupped his cheek, “I meant why are we here, when there’s a big bed with clean sheets through there?”

“Why indeed?” He gave her a hard kiss and in one smooth motion, wrapped her in his arms and sat up, “I’m ready.”

She couldn’t deny she was just as eager as he, but when she sat up, the feeling she was being watched had her doing a passable job of covering herself with her bra.

“I’ve already seen them, Doc.” Killian hooked his index finger in the center of her bra and lightly tugged, “You’ve no need to cover up.”

“I know, but,” Emma pointed at the three cats, “they’re watching.”

“Oh, Doc,” Killian tugged her into his arms. “What am I going to do with you?”

“You mean you don’t know?”

“Well,” he palmed her ass, pressing her hips close to his, “I might have an idea … or two.”

“I should hope so,” she nipped at his chin. “With your reputation and all, I’d hate to be disappointed.”

“You know you’re playing with fire, right?”

She pushed away far enough to click off the movie. “Promises, promises.”

He swung her up, and against his chest, “What are you doing?”

“I’m doing what the song said,” Killian nodded at the television, “lifting you where you belong.”

“That’s corny.”

“But you love it.”

“Well,” Emma purred. “I love you.”

Mere inches separated them as her eyes bore into his, their mouths hovering. The closer to her open bedroom door, the higher the tension. With every step the intensity expanded, until there was no emptiness inside, and she could no longer keep her eyes open.

“Kiss me.”

Killian had been inside Emma’s bedroom one time, but unwilling to remove his mouth from hers, he felt his way. The change in the floor covering was the first indication and, using his foot, he pushed the door shut.

“Can’t have voyeurs, now can we?” he whispered against her lips.

A low light from her bathroom helped guide his way. His shins hit the bed, and he lowered Emma’s legs, allowing her to slide down his body. Soft skin glided over his chest, sending his heart rate skyrocketing. Small hands slid through his hair, circled his flat nipples and hooked in the top of his jeans. The heat generated by the friction between them had him rethinking slow.

“Come here.” Her nimble fingers toyed with the button on his jeans, popping it before he was prepared.

“Careful, love,” he closed his hand around her wrist when she reached for the zipper tab. “Those aren’t quite the teeth marks I have in mind.”

“I’ll kiss it and make it better.”

“I’m too close, Doc,” Killian pushed her back and meant to follow her down, until a shadow in his peripheral vision halted his movements. “Millicent, how did you get in here?”

“She sleeps in here.” Emma propped herself up on her elbows.

“Not tonight, she doesn’t,” he all but barked. “Bloody hell, Emma.” Killian carried the cat to the door. “It’s a bloody conspiracy. “We are alwa—“

When he turned back toward the bed, the vision before him had the words flying from his mind.

“Beautiful.”

His Doc had tossed her bra and sleep pants onto a chair next to the bed and turned on a small lamp. And she was sitting in the center of her bed, all pink and shiny and so perfect tears sprang to his eyes.

“You’re lovely.”

“You make me feel that way.”

The way she was looking at him caused his body to harden even more. “I’m sorry, Doc. This isn’t going to be slow.”

“Next time?” Emma tossed the blanket aside.

“If you wish.” He dropped his pants and boxer briefs.

Their eyes clashed as the foil packet he had placed in his back pocket was removed and laid on the bedside table. Time stood still as he hesitated, savoring the moment. Every wrong turn, wrong step, wrong word had been leading him to this moment where nothing was wrong, but everything was very, very right.

“It’s time.”

Emma licked her lips, and he had to tighten his fists to keep from jumping her.

“Oh,” she drew out the sound, pursing her lips forward, and his knees trembled, “boy, is it.” Her sparkling eyes lifted to his, and his knees almost gave out.

Killian placed one knee on the mattress. “I need you.”

“Take me,” she whispered, her hot breath mingling with his.

Their mouths collided in an all-out assault of lips, teeth, and tongues. It became impossible for him to think when all he wanted was to feel. A touch, a lick, a gentle suck.

“I love you.”

Killian nipped at her collarbone, skimming his hand down her side. His tongue swirled around a valley, and his lips played homage to a peak. Her moans, pants, and the movement of her body played show and tell with what drove her closer to the edge.

The tenuous hold on his control was crumbling, but he couldn’t seem to stop. She was too sweet, and he’d been waiting too long. He could feel her heart racing, her body quivering, and with a few well-placed strokes to her most sensitive place, she fell apart in his arms.

“It’s time,” she panted.

“Hold on, love.” He reached for the packet, but her hand was there first.

“Let me.”

Emma opened the packet, extracted the contents, and slid it in place with one smooth motion. Then with a smirk, pushed him over and climbed on. “Ready?”

Before he could formulate any coherent thoughts, her heat surrounded him, and she had begun to move.

“Oh, Emma,” Killian groaned, knowing words couldn’t explain what he was feeling. For the first time he understood the difference between making love and sex. One was with just the body and the other … involved his heart.

She was soft and smooth, and the need to take hold of her hips and drive was climbing inside. His body trembled, it bucked and … when she shuddered, they fell over the crest together.

Emma was sated and relaxed when Killian returned from the bathroom and pulled her into his arms, “That was …”

“I know.”

“So, Doc,” his lilt was extra pronounced, “how exactly is it that you are so proficient in covering my co–mph?” her hand muffled the rest.

“I don’t care for the word used that way,” Emma frowned. “That word refers to a Gallus gallus domesticus. You don’t have a rooster between your legs, do you?”

“Well,” Killian palmed himself, “it is rather splendid.” He turned onto his side, his eyes sparkling with mischief, “Don’t you agree?”

Emma fought the eye roll that threatened to erupt that even after everything he still needed validation.

“Yes, Killian,” her fingers lightly lifted and squeezed, “it is very impressive.”

His smile caused her heart to flip several times.

“Thank you.” Killian kissed her softly, tenderly, the emotion simmering just under the surface, “Now, Doctor Foster,” he pulled her hips closer to his, “the proficiency story, please.”

The look on his face did something to her insides. It was territorial and curious at the same time, “It’s not what you’re thinking,” Emma hastened to assure him.

“How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“Open book.” She laughed at the look of guilt that crossed his face. “Really, it’s all quite innocent.”

“Oh?”

“Kit,” Emma shared, “our sophomore RA., decided we all needed to learn about protection. And so, she brought assorted fruits and vegetables for us to practice ‘protecting’.”

“Fruits and vegetables, huh?”

Emma laughed, the memory of the day all those years ago still fresh in her mind, “Yes, we had cucumbers, squash, bananas, and carrots.”

“You dressed each one?” Killian rolled over and hovered above her.

With his mouth so close and his body pressed against hers, Emma had a hard time keeping her thoughts straight, “Ye—yes,” she swallowed, “I had the fastest f-f-fing—fingers.”

His lips teased hers for several seconds. “Only the fastest fingers, Doc? Were there other competitions as well?”

“Ye-ye-ye … yes,” Emma commanded her tongue to work. “Tori and Aurélie beat me out for the fastest mouth.”

“Oh?” His tongue invaded hers, “Yours feels perfect to me.”

Emma carded her fingers through his hair and pulled his lips back down. When he lifted his head and asked, “Who won?” a disgruntled sound escaped her throat.

The neural pathways inside her brain fought to retrieve the answer, “Aurélie. Said it was because she was French.” She slid her hand down over his flank and around his hip. “Any more questions?”

His strangled response as his lips covered hers was all the answer she needed.