"He was a part of her in every way, and she had finally opened her eyes to see he was always there, just waiting for her." Their night together after "Always"… My story ends before morning and hopefully stays within canon based on what Marlowe hinted at for the premiere.

Disclaimer: I don't own them – I just write about them.

What The Heart Wants

Chapter 1

Kate felt him through her whole body – in her blood, coursing through her veins, filling her lungs, absorbing into her skin. He was a part of her in every way, and she had finally opened her eyes to see he was always there, just waiting for her.

She could feel his pulse beating at the base of his palm as it pressed against hers, and she knew his body vibrated with the same piercing desire she was struggling to hold in check. Yet for all the pounding intensity in his eyes, in his posture, and in the ferocious passion that exploded between them moments before, his first act upon reaching his bedroom was to gently stroke her jawline with his fingertips. The caress was feather-light, as if she were no more substantial than morning mist being carried away on a breeze. His fingers lingered there, so soft on her skin, almost too soft to feel, while his eyes searched her face, assuring himself that she was not some ephemeral vision that would disappear, leaving him standing alone in his room, broken and incomplete.

"Kate." Her name was a whisper, a breath he exhaled before bringing his lips to hers. She was real, and she came to him, tasting like the rain that still coated her skin, and returning every kiss with the intensity that had always defined her, but had never been channeled so truly. Her skin was cool to the touch from the downpour she had endured, indeed embraced, to get to this point. But heat continued to erupt between them, and everywhere he touched was ignited by the contact until the chill was just a memory.

They stood there kissing for a long time, both reveling in the wonder of finally giving in to this simple, timeless act. Had it only been minutes before that he had seen her name on his phone and determinedly pressed the end button, undeniably aware of the symbolism of his decision? He knew he hadn't been rejecting just a phone call, but her as well, and everything she stood for, that she made him feel, and everything they were, together.

His actions over the past month to convince himself he didn't love her paled next to true, devastating conviction, which is what he faced after leaving her apartment. He admitted to himself only this evening that he truly had been trying to punish – or at least provoke her – since the bombing case, when he learned she'd been lying to him about her memory. Because if he had wanted it to be over, he would have said good-bye. If he wanted it to be over then, he would have done what he did the night before in her apartment. He would have told her everything, would have been open and honest instead of acting out in hopes she'd make some kind of move that he was too cowardly to make himself.

But that was long over now. And here she stood, kissing him so softly, with lips pliant and wet beneath his. Over and over, her mouth met his, her tongue dipping and tasting while he offered back all he could. She stroked his face so reverently that he knew she felt the same sense of gravity at what was about to happen. Four years he'd felt this magnetic pull toward her, and for four years he'd resisted it, fearing those magnets would flip over and repel once they got too close. But attraction had become something so much deeper, so much more important than he'd ever imagined, and the possibility of losing it was the worst reality he'd ever faced.

But that bleak reality seemed light-years away as her lips whispered against his, "Castle, is this really happening?" A part of him wanted to smile, but as the same thought had been scrolling through his mind since he'd opened the door to find her soaked with rain on the other side, he just nodded in speechless affirmation and reclaimed her mouth with his own. His fingers tangled in her damp hair, and held her firmly against him. He couldn't get enough of her, of the feel of her mouth sliding and rubbing against his, her tongue hot and quick as it wrestled with his, the taste of her breath, the scent of her skin, and the touch of her hands as they roamed free along his neck and shoulders. They could spend the whole night doing nothing more than kissing like teenagers, and he would not consider a moment of it wasted. From that first, unexpected, and far too brief kiss more than a year ago, he'd known it could not be the last time. Everything about that moment had felt so incredibly right, and given the dire circumstances, that realization had come with no small amount of guilt. But guilt didn't change facts, and the force of emotion that plowed into him as Kate had taken his face in her hands and kissed him in his doorway only reinforced how deep his feelings for her went.

To be continued …

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