Oh God. "Killian," she whispers, voice gone ragged with the heat between her thighs and her pulse pounding in her ears, her clit, her nipples and really everywhere else. Her fingers are curled way too tight in his jacket, so tight they're starting to cramp.

She really wishes she'd learned how to teleport from Regina, because, "Unless you see a conveniently shady tree, we need to go home. Now." Or she's going to forget there'll be kids here again in half an hour after dinnertime.