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It was one of those nights – you know, the ones where you look across the bar and make eye contact with the only other sober person in the place.

Emma had looked down the length of the bar, locking eyes with a handsome stranger that looked like he was also assigned to Designated Driver that evening.

“Name’s Killian,” he told her as she pressed him up against the wall by the restrooms, a moment stolen while their friends waited for them back at the bar.

“Emma,” she said, breathless and smiling as he kissed her again. “Gimme your phone,” she commanded when they’d been gone almost officially too long.

He hands it over without a word, biting his lip and resisting kissing her again while she’s programing her number into his phone.

“Text me your address when you’ve dropped off your drunks for the night?”

“If I didn’t, I’d be a damn fool,” he tells her, and he accepts the heady press of her everything against him one last time before he finally makes his way to the restroom while she makes her way back to her friends.

They keep casting glances at each other for the rest of the evening – a wink here, a flirty smile there, and then he runs his tongue along his bottom lip and Emma is announcing that it’s time to take the girls home because she just remembered an appointment she has in the morning.

Killian does his best to hide his chuckles from the other end of the bar, and then Emma does this thing with her teeth against her bottom lip that practically makes her look like she’s having an orgasm and Killian decides that it’s time for them to go as well.

It was just supposed to be a one-night thing. They both understood this going in.

It was the company of The Someone who knew without asking but didn’t need the story, The Someone who got it but didn’t need to get it.

Well, at least they understood that.

And they understood it once in his living room, and twice in his bed that night.

It’s as she’s starting to get sleepy that she decides it’s time to go, thanking him for an awesome night as he props himself up in his bed. He crosses his arms behind his head and tells her that his door is open any time she wants to pop by.

Which is a good thing. Because she’s gone just a matter of minutes before Killian can hear the door buzzer.

“Did you forget something, love?”

“Look outside,” she tells him, and her voice sounds weird so he just does as he’s told.

It’s only been a couple hours since she got there – not short by any means but definitely not a marathon like they could’ve partaken in.

The world beyond his window is a sea of white. His jaw drops, and he stares for just a moment. Snow wasn’t even in the forecast for the night, so where did they get a whole bloody winter wonderland?

He trips over the couch in his haste to buzz Emma back up, moving just as quickly back to his bedroom to grab boxers, as he hadn’t exactly anticipated her reasons for coming back up.

When the knock sounds on his door, he opens it with a grimace.

Not the way I was hoping to welcome you back. Come on in, love.”

She’s shivering hard, her leather jacket not enough to fight off the snowy chill of the world outside. And while she had a scarf to wind around her throat, she had no other winter implements to speak of.

Ushering her in, he waits while she kicks off the now-useless heels she wore out for the evening before he guides her over to the couch. He spreads a blanket over her for good measure, telling her to stay put while he goes to get her some clothes to sleep in.

When he returns, it’s with his own warm pajamas in place, and a set for her that includes his favorite pair of fleece socks.

He makes tea while she changes, and when she comes out of his bathroom encased in his clothes, there’s an instant he thinks he might be in love.

But that is a ridiculous notion because they’ve only known each other for hours.

This was only supposed to be a one-night stand, Emma chants in her head as she stands in front of his bathroom mirror. She finds a make-up wipe in her purse, pulls out her contact case, and slips out of her bar-hop outfit and into Killian’s pants… literally.

They’re so cozy.

When she returns to the living room, it’s like they weren’t just having glorious orgasms at each other’s hands less than an hour ago.

Instead, this feels like something… comfortable.

Which immediately makes Emma awkward as hell.

She accepts the tea he hands her, wrapping her hands around the mug and inhaling the floral notes of chamomile, sinking into the corner of Killian’s couch like she was meant to be there.

And then they just… sit there.

What are you supposed to do when you were not supposed to stay the night?

“I’m afraid you’re going to be here for at least the night, Emma. Do you want me to take the couch?”

“Killian, we just had… a lot of sex. I think it’ll be okay if we sleep in the same bed.”

“Noted,” he says with a small smile. He unfolds himself from the couch and holds out his hand to her, pulling her to walk in front of him to the room.

When he wakes up in the morning, Emma is splayed out on the other side of his bed, looking as if she belongs there. As she starts to stir, she turns and curls around him, waking slowly and blinking at him sleepily as a smile appears.

“Morning,” she whispers. She snuggles further against him, chasing away the cold with the warmth of her body. “Your bed is so comfortable. I could get used to this.”

“I could get used to having you here,” he tells her, surprised by his own honesty. He knows so little about her, but he wants to know more. He feels her tense at his words, and he waits for the way she seems poised to run.

“Do you have coffee?”

It’s definitely not what he was expecting her to say, so he just kind of dumbly nods, moving with her to the kitchen to start up the pot.

But while it’s brewing, she leans against him, burying her cold nose against the collar of his shirt.

After a couple minutes of silence while the coffee percolates, her voice is quiet. “I think I’d like that.”

He pulls her away only so he can look at her closely. “Emma, will you go out with me?”

Rather than respond, she leans up and kisses him – the sealing of the deal that this was officially going beyond one night.

She doesn’t leave for two more days.