Hi, newbie here. Well, not a fanfic newbie but this is my first Once Upon a Time fanfic. I am currently in the middle of writing a multi-chapter Divergent fanfic, but after spending the entire holidays binge watching all seasons of Once Upon a Time, several ideas jumping to my imagination for fanfics centered on that show. This is the first to have a couple of chapters in the bank and will hopefully not be too long, I thinking around ten chapters. I'm also working on another multi chapter OUAT story which I hope to post soon.

Please note that Emma's character may seem out of character but trust me, there is a reason and all with be revealed if you stick with me.

Just so you know, this is unbeta'd, so sorry for any mistakes.

Okay, so read, review, let me know if this is something I should continue with, or just trash it and start something else.

Emma moved with ease through the contemporary designed gallery, smiling and nodding her greetings to the patrons she recognized as she passed, before coming to a stop in front of the several displays offered by Gold Antiquities, the auction house she worked for.

She double checked the descriptions for each piece, cursing silently at the wrong date written on one crisp ivory card, turning a pair of porcelain temple vases from the Yuan Dynasty into the Ming Dynasty.

She swiveled her head, her blonde curls swinging with the movement, as she searched for someone who looked like they were carrying a pen, wishing she had gone with her original outfit choice of a classic tailored suit, instead of the sleek, figure hugging emerald dress she was currently wearing.

She stopped one of the wait staff as they carried a platter of hors d'oeuvres passed her. "Do you have a pen?"

"Sorry, Ma'am," the person answered and Emma huffed. She hated being called ma'am, she was too young to be a ma'am. She was only a few years older than the college kid she was talking to. But that was the price she paid for having such an awesome, high flying job at a young age.

She turned abruptly from the server and hurried off in search of a writing implement to correct someone else's mistake, mumbling to herself as she went.

She spied the owner of the gallery, a raven haired beauty who had become a surprising friend and conspirator. Over the last three years they had formed an unlikely alliance. Regina balanced out Emma, despite an age gap of around five years and backgrounds as diverse as they come. Regina's refined upbringing smoothed out Emma's harshness and Emma's often impulsive nature made Regina loosen up a little.

"Regina," she called out, stopping the woman from walking away. "I don't suppose you have a pen? Some cretin has made a mistake with the antique's labeling and I need to correct it before someone spots it and I lose my bonus."

Regina lifted an immaculately trimmed eyebrow. "Like you need the money, Emma," she replied, the gleam in her eyes taking the bite from her voice.

"I need things to be correct," Emma smirked back, "and do I have to point out the cretin I'm talking about is one for your employees."

"Point taken," Regina acknowledged with a slight nod of her head. "But no, I don't have a pen. There'll be one in my office."

Emma pointed to the large room separated from the gallery area by a large bleached beechwood door. "Do you mind?"

"Knock yourself out," Regina answered before being approached by an elderly man in an Armani suit.

Emma moved quickly into Regina's office and, not for the first time, she marveled at the woman's impeccable taste in interior design. The walls were a very pale blue, almost silver, the furniture all in accents of grays and whites. The desk in the center of the room was over-sized even for most men but Emma loved it, it oozed power.

She moved across the floor, the cherry wood warm in contrast to the rest of the room, her heels beating evenly with her stride. When she reached the edge of the desk, she paused, her eyes lifting to the wall behind and the shelves which lined the wall on either side of a Mánes original she herself had found for Regina's office. The photo in a crystal frame shocked her and she was sure it hadn't been there the last time she was in this room. The just married couple looked happy in that captured moment, their smiles almost genuine but she knew, at least for one of the two, it was the worse day of their life. She shook her head as she leaned over the desk, reaching for the pens set to the side of the writing pad in almost military order.

So intent on her wondering about the photograph she didn't hear the door open as her fingers reached out for one of the pens, or the soft tread as the person strode purposefully toward her. In fact, she didn't even register she wasn't the only one in the room until rough hands grabbed her hips, pulling her backside up a little and she felt herself being rubbed against a very male body.

"Oh yeah, love. You know I like it over the desk."

Emma turned her head, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder, to look behind her to find a tall, dark-haired man thrusting himself against her ass. His eyes were closed and he wore a smirk on his lips, his chin covering with wiry hair, scruffy with an 'I don't care' feel to it.

"Excuse me?" she asked, not quiet believing the position she found herself in with a complete stranger.

At the sound of her voice, the stranger popped his eyes open, his gaze roaming over her face though he didn't move.

"You're not Regina," he said, as though it was her fault.

'No, I'm not," Emma grinned despite herself. "Would you maybe wanna step back?"

He smirked at her again, a half-smile that suddenly seemed to make her feel weak as she took in his features. His eyes, a striking blue, were mesmerizing, and glowing with mischief but held an undertone of hardness and his lips looked incredibly soft, pliable, and she felt an uncontrollable urge to caress them with her own.

"I don't know," he finally answered. "I kinda like where I am right now."

At that Emma felt exactly how much he was enjoying their position and her head turned away from him, not wanting to see the look in his eyes. Her own gaze landed on the photograph she had looked at when she first entered the room and she gulped, moving to stand up, snatching a pen from the desk.

She slowly stood and heard the stranger groan with her movement before turning around to meet his gaze. His hands let her move but he didn't completely remove them from her hips.

"Maybe you should check the next time that it's the right woman you are propositioning before you..."

"Insinuate fucking over the desk?" he finished for her, again with that sexy half smile.

Emma blushed at his choice of words, his British accent making the word 'fuck' seem so much dirtier, even though that was exactly what she was thinking. Her eyes lowered slightly to come level with his chest, which was covered with a charcoal shirt under a dark jacket, his rich red tie standing out strikingly, and she marveled at how broad his chest was and how it might look without the fabric covering it. She shook her head, shaking these thoughts away, half disgusted with herself. This wasn't her, she didn't blatantly ogle strange men. Not anymore.

"I need to get back out there," she said, suddenly desperately wanting, no needing, to extract herself from this situation.

"But we're having fun here," he reasoned, almost pouting in disappointment as the color in this eye seemed to brighten.

Emma couldn't stop herself from looking lower, shifting her gaze over the slight bulge in his pants. "Well, one of us certainly is."

He just grinned at her again. "Love, we can both have fun."

Emma laughed lightly at him before side-stepping out of his semi- embrace. "Maybe next time," she found herself saying, much to her own shock. "Right now, I have work to do." And she moved quickly before she changed her mind and made the biggest mistake of her life, well, maybe the third or even fourth biggest, and rushed for the door, almost tripping over her own feet in the process.

When she was back outside Regina's office she exhaled slowly, not quiet believing how bold she had just been with someone she had never met before. She had thought that stage of her life was gone.

She noticed the people in the gallery had increased while she was gone and quickly she dashed over to the Gold Antiquities display, making the correction easily and stashing the pen behind a large vase. She then moved off in search of a drink, she really needed something to calm herself.

A few hours later and the event was going well. Emma watched as Regina flitted from one person to another, always gracious and smiling and she lifted a champagne flute from a passing server before turning back to the painting she was studying.

It was a strange piece, the colors, dark blues, grays, and purples, all kind of swirling in large strokes, never meeting yet seeming to mingle at the same time. In stark contrast, in the corner a bright yellow abstract pattern stood out against the dull colors, and Emma tipped her head slightly as if looking at the picture from a different angle would offer another perspective.

"It's a strange piece, right?" a male voice commented to the side of her, voicing her very thoughts and Emma's stomach flipped a little at the accent and she suddenly felt light headed. It had been a while since she had that reaction to a guy and a small smile graced her lips at the thought.

"I like it," she answered defiantly.

"Really?" he asked turning to her, his brows furrowing quizzically.

"Absolutely," she returned, turning to face him. "It dark, almost painful, with a hint of hope shining in the corner."

He laughed a little, his lips spreading wide with his smile. "And you get all that from just a few brush strokes."

"It's one of my many talents," she quipped back, resisting the urge to wink at him. Was she flirting with this man, this stranger? What was she thinking?

He leaned forward, invading her personal space with ease, his tongue darting out to brush against his lower lips before he whispered in her ear. "I can't wait to see your other talents."

Emma smiled coyly as he set himself straight again. "I make a mean cup of coffee," she informed him.

"Is that an offer for breakfast?" he bantered back, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"I don't know, I haven't decided yet," she shot back.

"Hey, there you are," Regina's voiced called out and Emma took a step back from his man who was making her act like a completely different person, suddenly feeling badly. This guy had thought she was Regina when he first entered the office, so obviously they had something going on.

Regina stopped beside them both, her head turning from one to the other for a moment, a thin, almost knowing, smile on her face.

"Emma, I see you've met Killian," she said.

"Well, sort of," Emma answered before taking a sip of the champagne in the glass she was still holding.

"We haven't actually exchanged names yet," the stranger acknowledged.

"Then let me," Regina beamed. "Killian, this is Emma Swan. Hot shot buyer and evaluator of all things antiquated for the prestigious firm Gold Antiquities."

"Really?" Killian beamed to her. "I'm impressed."

"Emma, this is Killian Jones, talented artist, British rebel without a cause, and a pain in my ass."

"Artist?" Emma repeated, raising her brow in question.

"Yeah, that's one of his pieces you are looking at right now," Regina told her.

"Really?" she echoed his earlier exclamation.

"Yeah," Killian answered. "And you nailed it by the way, love."

"Did I miss something?" Regina asked them both.

"No," Emma answered quickly, the same time Killian barked out "Yes."

"Whatever," Regina dismissed them both. "Oh, there's Vernon Andrews. I must talk to him; I need some new clients."

And she was gone, leaving Emma and Killian staring at each other.

"So, do you really like it?" Killian asked.

"Huh?"

"The painting, you said you liked it," Killian clarified.

Emma turned her head to look at the painting again, her head tilting as before.

"Yeah, I like it."

"It's yours."

"Oh no," Emma said, shaking her head quickly. "I can't accept that. It's for the auction, right?"

"I'll withdraw it," he shrugged. "I want you to have it. No one has understood the piece and the first time you see it, you totally get it."

"Mr. Jones," Emma started.

"Killian," he interrupted with smile.

"Killian," she smiled back. "Thank you, but I can't, really. I wouldn't feel right."

She noticed one of the interns she had brought from her work to assist her waving frantically to her.

"I think there is a minor problem," she explained to Killian, half thankful for being called away. "Please excuse me," and she moved in the direction of the red haired girl who was standing next to a Quaker chair from the 17th Century.

"Until next time," Killian answered with a slight nod of his head, before stopping her, his hand on her elbow. "Because there will be a next time, Emma."

Emma gulped, her eyes quickly sweeping the room to see if anyone was watching their exchange, thankful they all seemed engaged in conversations or observing the art works or items around the room for the auction. She nodded quickly, not looking him in the eye and then continued on her way.

Another hour had passed before Emma finally stepped out into the long balcony that stretched the length of the gallery, feeling the need for fresh air after maybe one too many glasses of champagne, but the auction was going well and the pieces her firm had donation were all sold, hopefully helping to raise plenty of money for the charity Regina had taken a liking to this month. There was an anxious moment when the piece Killian had offered her was brought forward, but she was pleased when the envelope announced the artwork had been sold, and for a tidy sum too.

She half hid herself in the shadows, just needing a minute to clear her head before heading back in for the last half hour of the event, half imagining herself already at home, relaxing in her large tub.

She vaguely heard the door slide open but turned away hoping whoever it was would quickly leave.

"This is where you are hiding," the voice that had been haunting her all evening announced and she turned slowly to him.

"Just needed a minute. I'm not a big drinker normally," she admitted with a giggle, not quite believing she was giggling and the fact she had almost tagged on 'anymore' to her admission.

"Yeah, it is getting a little stuffy in there. I think it's much better out here."

Emma looked down, avoiding the look in his eyes, a look that spoke volumes to her and her insides which seemed to be jumping at the very sound of his voice. Unfortunately, her gaze landed again on his chest, which was now devoid of his tie, the top three buttons of his shirt undone revealing dark hair. Emma gulped before sweeping her eyes away.

"So, how long have you been painting?" she asked, clutching at any conversation to stop the thoughts now invading her mind.

"Come now, Love. You really want to talk about that?" he asked, taking a step closer and Emma could feel the heat radiating from him, and her body responded on its own accord, aching for Emma to do something, anything.

She looked up to meet his eyes, something she would later regret, and was instantly pulled into their seemingly endless, enchanting clear pools. She was unable to look away and watched as they darkened to a stormy blue, the desire there obvious and she instinctively took a step back, only to find herself stuck between a rock and a hard place. The rock being the wall behind her and the hard place being Killian in front of her.

He closed the space between them even more, so their bodies were inches from touching and he leaned his head down to hers.

Emma couldn't take it anymore and she closed distance between them. Her eyes fluttered and closed as she pressed her lips against his, almost moaning at the softness. She had been right. So pliable.

Killian leaned into her, trapping her possessively exactly where he wanted her, his hand raising to cup her face delicately. Man, he really knew how to kiss and Emma felt it all the way down to her toes as he kissed her luxuriously, licking at her bottom lip until she opened up for him and he delved in, moaning in appreciation, then retreating just as quickly before repeating his actions

Emma moved her arms up and around his neck, her fingers delving into his soft hair at the base of his skull. She felt Killian's hand on the material of her dress where it covered her thighs, squeezing the covered flesh and causing the fabric to inch up slightly. She was incredibly aroused and this was a new thing for her, to be this aroused this quickly by a simple touch and an incredible kiss.

Killian lips moved from hers, and he trailed hot kisses down her neck, only one word escaping from his lips, her name said with such reverence it made her quiver.

This wasn't happening, she though idly. This can't be happening. But his lips trailed back up her neck to recapture her lips again and this time she did moan, deeply, as she eagerly returned his kiss.

Killian hands moved from her thighs and around to her ass, pulling her closer to him, so she could feel exactly just how he was enjoying this. And at the feel of his hard erection pressing urgently against her, she froze, pulling back from him.

She licked her lips and almost smirked when she heard him groan, but the words she needed to say slipped out. "I'm married."

Killian pulled back a little more from her, though his hand were still clasping her ass and she could still feel his hardness.

"What?" he asked disbelieving

She swallowed nervously as she lifted her right hand from his hair and wriggled her fingers to him, showing the shining diamond encrusted wedding band accompanied with a delicate solitaire engagement ring. "I'm married."

Killian removed his hands and took half a step back. "Happily?"

Emma opened her mouth to speak, ready to defend her marriage, but the words escaped her so she didn't even attempt to lie.

"Didn't think so," Killian gloated before quickly stepping back to her, pulling her body back to his and her lips to his, this time his kiss was a little more frantic, more passionate.

Emma fell into his kiss again, the feelings he was stirring within her almost too much for her and that ache within her now growing to a pulsating thump.

The door opened again and Regina called, "Killian, are you out here?"

Killian silently detached himself from Emma again and whispered, "Wait here," before stepping away from her, out from the shadows and into the light shining from the gallery.

"Yeah, I'm here," he grumbled. "You know I hate this shit."

Emma turned from him, finally seeing her escape in the form of a narrow door to the side of the wall. She quickly moved through it, before leaning against the wall on the other sides as she tried desperately to even out her breathing.

This wasn't right on so many levels even she couldn't comprehend it.

She rushed through the gallery, ignoring anyone who attempted to stop her, before she found herself in front of her intern.

"Sadie, do you think you and Alan with be able to finish up here? I've really got to go."

"Sure, Ms. Swan," the under-grad student smiled nervously.

"Great," Emma smiled, already heading for the cloakroom, her purse and wrap, and her escape from Killian Jones. "Just make sure you get the addresses and that they are on my desk in the morning."

"Sure," the redheaded smile.

And with that, Emma fled.