Due to technical issues, fanfic net seems to have eaten my first attempt at posting this chapter, but hopefully second time's the charm...
Rick peels his eyes open to the glare of sunlight streaming through the window, shining on his face, urging him awake. He knows she's gone before he sits up in the bed, but the instinctual disappointment quells quickly upon remembering that he's in her home and the realization that she couldn't have gone far. And not only that, but she had sworn that she was sure of him before they had become lost in the meeting of bodies and collision of flesh. He refuses to believe she would have abandoned him after that.
And sure enough, she proves him right.
Castle glances out her bedroom window only to receive a perfect view of her, folded in the same patch of grass they had shared last night beneath the stars, her body positioned in a meditation pose he recognizes from a day spent on the beach. He would have preferred waking to her beside him, but her figure bathed in morning light and swathed in his ripped, plaid shirt from the night before isn't an unpleasant vision to awaken to either.
He decides not to disturb her, slipping out of her bed and stepping into his boxers warmed from the spill of sunlight all over her bedroom floor. His entire frame aches, his arms heavy and sore, his back tight and wound from the hour spent chopping wood with her yesterday afternoon, but the residual pain is easy to ignore when he's standing in Kate Beckett's bedroom after a long night in her bed.
Rick takes his time exiting her room, examining the single photo framed on her dresser, a picture of a younger version of Kate with whom he presumes are her parents, all standing together on the beach. He touches his index finger to the younger Kate's beaming grin, caught in a laugh he's grown to recognize all too well, and studies the other two Becketts – the older man Kate has her arms around and the woman with a similar smile. They made the ideal family and it has his heart stinging for her, more than it usually does when he thinks of all Kate has lost in the last twelve years.
Castle sighs, exhales the lingering sorrow for her and wanders out of her bedroom, into the small kitchen he's become well acquainted with, and brews a pot of coffee while he waits for Kate to return. But after the coffee is ready and an extra fifteen minutes has passed, his eagerness overrides his patience and he pours two cups of the dark liquid, adds a splash of vanilla flavoring, and carries them outside to where she's sitting.
"Morning," she hums, cracking an eye open as he plops down beside her in the grass in only his jeans, offering her the mug of steaming caffeine that she accepts with a grateful smile.
He almost startles when she leans over to kiss his mouth, her grin blooming at his surprise.
"Morning," he gets out, watching her settle back smugly with her cup raised to her upturned lips. "How long have you been awake?"
"Maybe half an hour," she shrugs. "Didn't want to wake you, but I was just about to come back in, make you coffee."
"Want to make breakfast together instead?" he asks, taking a sip of the strong brew she keeps on hand.
"Yeah, I'd like that," she admits, unfolding her legs from beneath her and stretching them out in the shimmering dew of the still drying grass. "There's actually a new recipe I want to try out."
"I'll miss your cooking," he murmurs without thinking, noticing with a sinking stomach as her eyes fall to her coffee cup. "Just - you introduced me to a lot of new things."
"We still talking about breakfast?" she smirks, nudging his bare shoulder.
"Among other things," he plays along with ease, allowing her to steal away his coffee when she reaches for it, setting both half empty mugs in the grass before crawling into his lap.
"Oh? Like the part last night where I-"
"Yes. Yes, I loved that," he mumbles, already distracted by the exposed hint of her shoulder his shirt is sliding from, the fabric held together by two buttons that are doing very little to cover her. So much skin glowing and exposed, calling to him.
"In that case, I've already exercised my mind and soul this morning," she hums, shifting in his lap, beginning a slow rhythm that he already knows will spiral out of control. "Now time for the body."
Castle grips her hips, but she pushes him to his back, unfastens the lone buttons of his shirt and slips the fabric from her skin, blocks the sun with her naked body over his.
The smell swirling through her cabin is magnificent, the mixture of vegetables they chopped together, red and green peppers and onions mingling with the smoked sausage, causing his stomach to growl with anticipation. Kate quirks her brow at him, back in nothing but his shirt once again, and nods to the bowl where he's been beating eggs for the last five minutes while she adds in the last of the two cooked potatoes to the mixture.
"We're almost done, Castle," she chuckles, accepting the bowl of eggs and pouring them into the skillet, the satisfying sizzle of eggs, meats, and rich veggies crackling through the kitchen.
"What is this?" he inquires while he helps her sprinkle provolone cheese atop the blend of breakfast foods. Apparently, she had retrieved all of the ingredients yesterday during her trip to the market, already had the recipe written down on a post-it note stuck to her oven.
"Best breakfast of your life," she quips, stirring a wooden spoon through the delectable concoction, and Rick grins, dips down to smear a kiss to her shoulder and notices her fingers twitch around the handle of the cooking utensil.
"I don't know, Alexis's smiley face pancakes may have you beat."
Her lips softens into that gentle, lovely smile that always flourishes for the daughter she's never met but already seems to adore.
"Second best then," she concedes, holding out her hand for the salt and pepper shakers he's been in charge of since they started cooking half an hour ago. "And it's something my grandmother used to make for me when I used to stay with her on weekends. Not sure of the legitimate name, but she always called it a Polish-American skillet surprise."
His gaze flickers back to the food, his stomach growling at her back, and Kate elbows him away, murmurs something about grabbing plates, but his eyes are riveted to the shirt threatening to slip from her shoulder again, ready to reveal all that naked skin that feels so wonderful beneath his hands.
The craving for her has failed to subside. He'd stupidly thought that a full night in her bed - and a morning beneath her body - would be more than enough to quench the ever present desire instilled the day he first saw her, but it's hardly appeased his hunger at all. If anything, it's made the need roar up like fire from the pit of his stomach, flames branching out to encompass his entire body, demanding release through the kindling of her touch.
"Kate, you need to put some clothes on."
She glances away from the stovetop, back to him with confusion in her gaze, creasing her brow, until her eyes spark with understanding and then simmer with knowledge.
"You don't like me in your shirt?" she hums the inquiry, turning the knob for the stovetop burner until it clicks off and she's abandoning the oven, sauntering towards him like a predator, something carnal awakening and rippling through every inch of her body as she draws closer.
Castle backs into the counter, feels the wood dig into his back when she hooks her thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans.
"I - yes, but this shirt is - it's not doing a very good job of covering… much," he stammers while her fingers crawl along the waistband of his pants, her nails teasing up the plane of his abdomen, scratching lightly and eliciting the jump and tremble of his muscles.
She grins in satisfaction, her brow arcing, and her hands continue higher, short nails traveling over the bumpy path of his ribs, trailing up to his chest, circling his nipples-
"Kate," he chokes out, her name a broken plea on his lips
Even after he's already had her, she still maintains the ability to unravel him with such ease, to take him apart with nothing more than the fleeting stroke of her fingers to his fevered skin. He doesn't think he'll ever catch his breath at this rate.
"You want me covered up?" she questions, her words husky along his jaw, her lips teasing, ghosting along the corner of his mouth, but barely touching. Tormenting him.
He clutches her by the hips, jerks her forward and feels her hands spread wide at the muscles of his pectorals while her teeth nip and her tongue darts out to soothe.
"This is the result of you not being covered," he growls into her cheek, but she only laughs at him, sighing at the evidence pressing against her stomach, rolling her hips and snaking her arms around his neck in response.
Castle makes a noise in the back of his throat, automatically grabs for her thigh, waiting for her to stop him, to hum an admonishment into his skin and return to the food, but her want is just as strong, just as ravenous and insatiable. The work of her mouth at the underside of his jaw is silent encouragement, the scrape of her teeth to the bulging tendons of his neck confirmation that has him hauling her up, spinning to set her on the countertop.
"Food needs time to cool down anyway," she murmurs, her legs already rising to embrace his waist, thighs widening before clenching at his hips as she draws him in, allows him to feel the heat of her against his bare stomach.
So much of her is spilling from the shirt unbound and hanging from her bones, the two buttons trying and failing to conceal the swells of her breasts, the taut skin of her abdomen, and Castle leans forward, presses his mouth to the hollow of her throat, swirls his tongue there. Kate mewls at the contact, her spine arching for him, offering more, and he strays lower with his mouth, down to the supple skin heaving beneath the wrinkled plaid.
He nudges the shirt aside, nuzzles his jaw along the slope of her breast and listens to her breath hitch and stutter at the scrape of his stubble to the sensitive flesh beneath his cheek. Her nails are back at his neck, piercing skin and submerging into his hair, fingers tangling in the locks and trying to tug, bending to meet him when he finally appeases her impatience.
She moans as he kisses her, deep and bruising, gripping her ass in his large hands, practically lifting her from the counter as her arms wrap around his neck, her hands still lost in his hair, and her body bowed over him. All encompassing.
He's about to rip the damn shirt off for good, destroy the final two buttons on purpose, but the shrill ring of a phone coming from her living room has her jerking in surprise, gulping in air as she glances over her shoulder. But he's still distracted, drawn to the spot behind her ear that he learned last night elicits a needy whine or a sharp hiss – depending how far gone she is – every time he laves his tongue there.
"Castle," she pants, breathless but tinged with that gentle whimper of desperation as she clutches at his shoulder, but Kate is pushing on him, not dragging him closer and he lifts his head to her in confusion. "Your phone. That's your-"
"Shit," he gets out, helping her untangle her bare legs from around his waist, sparing a second to encircle the bone of her ankle in his hand and give it a squeeze before he jogs to the living room, finds his cellphone on the coffee table next to their empty wineglasses from the night before.
"You won't have service in here," she calls to him, her voice still pitched low and unsteady. "It'll drop the call."
The phone has gone to voicemail by the time he snatches it up anyway and he ponders his choices as he stares down at the missed call from his daughter. He knows service is limited here, that the only reason he can even have clear phone conversations this deep in the wilderness is because his cabin is enabled with paid cell service and premium internet access.
"Go," Kate states, hopping down from the counter, but clutching to the wooden surface when her legs take a second longer than usual to support her. He grins at the sight, but she hides her blush behind her tangled hair, straightens the mangled shirt while he approaches her. "I'll keep a plate for you in the oven," she adds, tilting her head back towards their breakfast, ready and waiting to be consumed. "When you come back, we'll – I mean, if you want-"
He slides his hand around her nape once he's close enough, drags her forward until he can wipe the streak of insecurity from her mouth with the press of his.
"I want," he ensures her, earning a puff of laughter and one more chaste kiss before she backs away.
"Then go call your daughter."
Rick nods, captures her hand and presses his lips to her knuckles, the back of her hand, and eventually the warmth of her palm when she flips her wrist in his grasp to graze her fingers along the edge of his jaw.
"Go Rick. From what you've told me, she'll worry if she doesn't hear from you."
He sighs, knows she's right, and heads for her front door when she reclaims possession of her hand.
"Oh and Castle?"
He looks back at her call, just in time to catch the fabric flying towards him. She's already sauntering towards her bedroom by the time he comprehends that it's his shirt now in his grasp, the one that had clung to her body mere seconds ago.
It smells like her now.
