I think it'll be late tonight.

The words raced down her spine, made her shiver. Castle slipped the phone back into his pocket, his eyes never leaving hers, and her body was humming with anticipation. She could still feel the heat of him against her, the strong lines of his body, the width of his chest when he'd been crowding her into the counter; still felt the burning imprint of his fingers on her stomach, like a brand. Thick heat had unfurled inside of her, settled low; her blood pounding in her lips, her fingertips, between her legs.

The kettle whistled and she practically jumped at the shrill sound that pierced the pulsating silence between them.

Kate ripped her eyes away, stepped to the stove to turn off the burner before she lifted the kettle, brought it with her to the counter. With her back to him she took a second to calm herself; her cheeks were flushed, her heart leaping into her throat and she tried to breathe, in and out, tried to clamp down on the desperate urge to tackle him against her kitchen counter, take him right here, right now. It'd been a long time since she'd felt like this; if she was honest she wasn't sure she'd ever yearned for anybody the way she yearned for him, so deep and carnal, consuming her from the inside out.

She poured water into the coffee filter, watched the first of the dark, fragrant liquid drip into the pot. Castle sidled up beside her, leaned with his back against the sink, watching her quietly. His silence was unnerving; his eyes so dark, burning into her with raw emotion, laid bare before her. She had to focus to keep her hands from shaking as she poured more water over the coffee grounds, the invigorating scent of the brew curling around them.

"Creamer?" He asked, his voice gravelly. She nodded, the words stuck in her throat. He pushed off the counter, tenderly trailed his fingers over the side of her hip and along her lower back when he brushed by her on his way to the refrigerator. Her eyes fell shut; she had to bite her lip to suppress the moan that staggered up her throat and oh god, what was happening to her; what was he doing? And why again had they not done this earlier? She felt hazy, rubbed raw with desire, couldn't for the life of her remember why this was supposed to be a bad idea when it all felt so good, so very good.

He placed her vanilla creamer on the counter, reclaimed his earlier position next to her and she congratulated herself on how steady her arms were when she reached for two mugs up on the shelf, then poured coffee, added creamer, all with his intense stare on her every move. She felt like she should say something, make small talk or tease him or really anything to bridge the cloying silence between them. Yet she had no banter left in her when all she really wanted was to know what he'd been meaning to tell her; her heart was pounding with it but she couldn't get the question past her lips.

There'd been challenge in his words, plea and wonder and such pure need that she'd almost expected him to push her into the nearest wall, and yet it seemed as if he was purposely keeping himself at a careful distance ever since, his touches tentative, teasing.

It was driving her crazy.

She turned, handed him one of the mugs. Castle took it from her, his fingers lingering on top of hers for a drawn-out moment. Her mouth went dry. He cradled the cup between his large hands and she watched his profile as he pursed his lips, blew on the surface of his coffee. His eyelids lowered on his first sip, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed and she envisioned putting her lips to it, feeling his muscles work beneath her mouth. Her limbs went deliciously weak, heat climbed to her cheeks and, oh, he looked scrumptious tonight. His hair disheveled from a night of dancing and the breeze that had ruffled the strands on their walk home; the smattering of scruff that was spreading along his jaw, reminding her of his trademark rugged look she hadn't seen in so long. She wanted to know what it'd feel like; the realization harsh and vivid how strongly she was aching for it, for his mouth to brush her skin, the rasp of his chin along the sensitive planes of her body, the delicious spread of sensation. She clamped her fingers tightly around the handle of her mug, had to censor her traitorous fingers from reaching out and caressing his cheek, from turning his head to claim his mouth.

She leaned against the counter next to him, their sides barely brushing while she focused on her coffee, inhaled a long sip, letting the familiarity of the flavor calm her frayed nerves.

"How's Alexis?" She asked, scraping for normalcy but even she could hear the raw edge to her voice.

"Good, doing fine," he nodded. "Checked in to let me know she was home from her date." He winked at her, a small smile playing on his lips. "Had a really good time, apparently."

"Oh good." She nodded inanely, took another sip. "Sorry she stood you up though," she grinned at him sideways, lightly poked her elbow in his ribs.

"I'm not."

Her eyes flew to his, caught by the gruff determination in his voice, the intensity of his words. She was breathless with it, swallowed hard at the burn of his eyes on her, impossibly dark, raw with longing. She couldn't stop staring at him, could read it in his look - whatever decision he just made, he was resolved to it. Serious. Going for it. For her.

He was coming for her.

Her heart slammed against her ribs, hard.

He set his coffee mug on the counter behind her, then took hers from her grasp, deliberately placed it next to his before he turned, leaning into her.

Oh God. She wanted him. She wanted him to seduce her.

"I've been wondering..." He reached for her, hooked his index finger around hers, lifting her hand. "This wall that needs to come down..." His thumb traced along the lines of her palm, curled over the tender skin of her wrist and she felt herself cant forward, inexorably drawn to him. He lifted her hand higher, gently stroked along her fingers before he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the tip of her index finger. She sighed at the contact, so soft, so sweet, and then he grazed his teeth over the pad and her knees buckled.

Castle wrapped an arm around her back, shifted a knee between hers, holding her steady and she felt limp in his arms, weak with it.

"Maybe we need to be more..." His mouth moved lower, his teeth scraping against the side of her hand, and it was electric, sparks arrowing through her limbs. "Pro-active about it."

She almost whimpered, bit back the sound, and what were they talking about? She couldn't think, concentrate, speak; could only feel the desire spread through her midsection, thick and hot and wet.

He pressed her hand to his sternum where she could feel the pounding of his heart; she lifted her eyes to his, could barely keep her lashes from fluttering while he ran his nails along her forearm, caressed the curve of her elbow, up the line of her bicep but she kept drinking him in, the pure need in the brilliant blue of his eyes, the steely determination. It was exhilarating to feel so wanted; her blood pounding with it. She wanted to kiss him; her fingers curled over his chest, her body rising, rising for him but he nudged his face into the curve of her neck.

"Loosen the mortar," he murmured, nuzzling the edge of her jaw. "Knock loose a few bricks." His lips brushed her skin with every word and she shivered, her legs clamping around his thigh. He kissed her neck, nipped her earlobe and if she didn't feel the rapid rush of his breath from his lungs, she'd worry that he was unaffected, still able to think, his voice so steady while she was putty in his arms.

"Brick..." He sucked her earlobe into his mouth, pushed the words out around it, the k's sharp, shattering her. "By brick by brick."

Kate curled her fingers into the short hair at the back of his neck, so soft to the touch, his skin burning beneath it. "How do you suggest we do that?" She asked, her voice sounding husky even to her own ears.

His mouth traveled a path of tender kisses along her jawline, ever closer to her lips. "Slowly," he whispered, tilting up her chin with his index finger. She opened her eyes, arrested by the darkness in his, burning deep into her.

He nudged his nose to hers in teasing Eskimo kisses; her lips were seeking, needing his but still there was space, too much space with just his breath caressing her mouth. "Like this."

She was faster; she rose into him, sought control, could not take a second more of his teasing; she was aching for him, the blood rushing in her ears, her lips tingling; dying to feel him. Her fingers gripped his shirt, the back of his neck, tugging him over her; her legs tightened around his thigh, her hips undulating impulsively. A low growl raced from his throat, gravely, sexy, and she claimed the sound with her mouth.