He is being a gentlemen. She knows it, so why can't she be a lady? Why is she pacing like a caged tiger in front of his door? He said that they had all the time in the world, so why does her body ache for him like tomorrow will never come?

The fifth time she passes his door, she snaps, knocking before she can stop herself.

"Did you lose your keys again, Love?" Killian asks pulling open the door to his suite at Granny's only to be tacked by the woman he had just forced himself to leave.

Her lips are on his the moment she gets a hold of his shirt, and it's like Neverland again, only this time she isn't stopping. She has already kicked the door closed behind her, and one of her hands is working its way beneath his shirt. He almost gives in, but then he remembers that this is Emma and he needs this not to be a one-time thing.

"Hey, easy there darling, what's the problem?" he asks, as her lips work their way distractingly down his neck.

"No problem, I'm just tired of waiting," she barely takes the time to answer between kisses.

"But you only just decided to stay?"

"But I've been thinking about this since the bean stalk," she replies, grinding herself into him with evident need.

"The bean stalk," he croaks as her fingers drift into the top of his pants.

"Why are you still talking?" she groans. "You have been trying to get in my pants since the day we met. Please Killian, can't we just stop talking?"

How they ended up on his bed with her shirt off and his wide open, he is not entirely sure, but the one thing he knows is that it is all happening to fast.

"This is guilt, Emma. You aren't ready for this. You just feel bad after everything Regina said. You will regret this in the morning, and I can't live with that," he tries to explain.

Emma growls, before flopping onto the other side of the bed.

"It's not guilt, Killian. I feel guilty, god do I feel guilty, but I also just feel tired of holding back. I was so sure that this wasn't where I belonged that I couldn't let myself do this, because I knew I wouldn't be able to stop. And now I just, I keep thinking about the way I felt at that stupid ball. It wasn't the candles or the orchestra or the fact that I was at a freaking ball. It was you. You made me feel like a princess, like I belonged. And I realized that I do I belong with you. So please, for the love of all that is holy, stop trying to be the gentleman you think I deserve, and start being the pirate I know you are," she taunts, her eyes giving him the challenging look that has always sparked his desire.

She's right, of course, and he spends the next few hours using every trick in the book to make her moan and tremble and scream his name. And in the morning, when he wakes with the sun as always, she is still in his bed. Granted she is now sprawled out, face down, her hair matted in spots, drool pooling on his pillow from the corner of her mouth, but if he is honest with himself, he has never thought she looked more beautiful than dressed in nothing but a sheet and sunshine.