CLOSE TO YOU
CHAPTER FOUR
(Reminder: M rated content begins in this chapter)
"Mommy?"
Kate looks down at the insistent tug of her hand. "What is it, sweetie?"
Reagan looks up at her, eyes wide, a panicked look on her face. "What if 'lexis doesn't like me?" she asks in a loud whisper.
"Oh." Kate kneels down and taps her daughter's chin with a finger. "I don't think that's even possible," she assures her. "But if you're uncomfortable, or unhappy, at any point, just give me the signal and we'll leave, no questions asked. Okay?"
Reagan bites her bottom lip, a telltale sign that she's thinking hard about the proposition, and nods just as the elevator announces their arrival on Rick's floor. "Okay, Mommy."
Kate stands, just managing to stop a groan as her back tightens. She'd spent most of the day hunched over paperwork, and she's paying for it now. She squeezes Reagan's hand. "Ready?"
"Ready!"
Kate chuckles as they exit, and she glances at the numbers on the doors, approaches Rick's apartment. She raises her hand to knock, then takes a deep breath before rapping on the door.
It opens just a few moments later, and she raises her brows when Rick appears, a dirty dish towel over his shoulder and a large red spot on his grey t-shirt.
He looks down and winces. "I spilled," he says in greeting before stepping aside. "Come in, come in. Alexis!"
Kate ushers Reagan in front of her, instructs her daughter to take her shoes off when she sees the pile by the door, kicks off her own before following Rick. "I brought wine," she announces, holding up the canvas bag in her hand. "Looks like you might need it."
Rick drops the dish towel on the counter and turns to face her again, a wide grin on his face. "I better wait until I finish cooking," he teases. He kneels down so he's face-to-face with Reagan and holds out his fist, which she dutifully bumps with a grin of her own. "Hey, squirt. I'm glad you're here."
Reagan giggles and leans back into Kate's legs.
"What do we say?" Kate prods, nudging her daughter's back with her knee. She resists the urge to roll her eyes; they've been working on manners. Apparently, she needs to work a bit more.
Reagan looks up at her, then back to Rick. "Thank you for having us," she finally whispers.
Rick chuckles. "Any time." He stands and looks back at the approaching sound of soft footsteps. "Ah, my offspring appears. Alexis, this is Reagan, and her mom, Ms. Beckett."
"Kate," she corrects with a smile in his direction. He'd insisted that Reagan call him by his first name, and she'll do the same.
She's seen pictures of Alexis, but even so, Kate is amazed at how little she looks like her dad. She has the same mischievous and curious blue eyes, but where he's brunette and broad-shouldered, she's almost gangly, with fiery red hair that people try and fail to duplicate in salons.
Alexis is tall enough that Kate doesn't have to kneel down, but she does bend slightly and hold her hand out. "It's very nice to meet you, Alexis," she says with a reassuring smile. "I've heard so much about you. Your dad talks about you all the time."
Alexis offers a shy smile. "Really?"
"Of course, silly," Rick pipes up, nudging her shoulder.
At her dad's encouragement, Alexis shakes Kate's hand. "Hi," she says in a quiet voice, turning her attention to Reagan. "Do you want to see my room?"
Reagan looks up at her mom, who nods.
"Go ahead. I'll be out here if you need anything."
Once the girls are out of earshot, Kate lets herself relax, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Thank God," she breathes, accepting a generous glass of wine.
Rick grins and takes a long drink of his own. "Told you so," he nudges, mirroring her pose and nudging her elbow with his.
Kate rolls her eyes. "Shut up. Can I help with dinner? Doesn't look like it's going well." She pokes the stain on his shirt.
"Ugh," he groans, rolling his eyes. "No, it's almost done. We'll let the girls play for a bit and then we can eat." He motions to the couch. "Sit. I'm going to change real quick, then you tell me about your week."
Later that night Kate flops on the couch with a loud sigh, smiles up at Rick when he holds out a fresh glass of wine and joins her. "Thank you," she says quietly, mindful of the thin walls in the apartment. "And I'm sorry."
Rick shakes his head, confusion lacing his features. "For what?"
"For needing to borrow pajamas." Kate shakes her head and traces the rim of the glass with her finger. "I should have brought some, but I got out of work late, and-"
Rick puts his hand on her arm. "No, it's fine. You'd do the same thing for Alexis if we were at your place." He gives her arm a reassuring squeeze.
Kate covers his hand with hers and brushes his knuckles with her thumb, feels her face warm when he flips his hand so their palms meet. She lifts her gaze to his, and she finds the silent encouragement to open up to him.
"I just feel so stupid," she admits, leaning her head against the back of the couch, tilting to face him.
"I try so hard to be the best mom I can be. When I found out I was pregnant, I took the captain's exam so I could have a more regular schedule than I did as a detective. I lined up childcare, found a bigger apartment, reworked my budget so I can give her a relatively comfortable life." She sighs and shakes her head. "I knew we'd be here past her bedtime, and even so, I couldn't bring fucking pajamas."
Rick sets their glasses on the coffee table and frames her face with his hands. He brushes her cheeks with his thumbs, and she realizes that her cheeks are wet with tears. "What's wrong? This isn't just about pajamas."
She sighs again. He's right; daycare had closed on Monday afternoon due to a flu outbreak that Reagan had miraculously managed to avoid, so she'd had to scramble for childcare for the whole week, and ended up having to work from home three days when they were already short handed at the precinct.
On top of that, the commissioner had been up her ass about case closure numbers, and two of her detectives had contracted strep throat right in the middle of their case, so other, already overworked detectives needed to take it on.
Rick just listens as she talks, encouraging her with the gentle caress of her jaw. "Oh Kate," he murmurs, his brows furrowed with concern. "What can I do?"
She leans into his palm, her eyes fluttering shut at his touch. "This is good," she admits with a small smile. "Letting me vent. Touching me." Her eyes fly open when she realizes what she said. "I mean-"
"Kate."
Her cheeks warm at the low husk of his voice. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and his eyes darken as they follow the movement. She sees his Adam's apple bob when he swallows, and she starts to lean forward, her mouth watering as she imagines pressing her lips to his skin.
He slides one hand to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. "I would very much like to kiss you," he whispers. "May I?"
She nods before he even finishes talking. "Yes."
Ever since their first non-date date, when they'd admitted their feelings went beyond friendship and she'd almost invited him home with her, she's wondered what it would be like to kiss him. She's laid awake late into the night more times than she can count, fantasies keeping her from falling asleep as she's imagined his mouth on hers, his fingers in her hair, on her skin.
As soon as his lips touch hers, she knows without a doubt that every single one of her fantasies paled in comparison to the real thing.
He plays her mouth like a violin, sinking his teeth into her lip before releasing it, sliding his tongue against hers when her mouth opens on a sigh, sucking her top lip as he pulls away for a breath. His fingers tighten their grip on her hair, and he tilts her head to the side, trails his mouth down her neck.
Heat floods between her thighs when he sucks at the exposed part of her collarbone, and she shifts, grips the front of his shirt and drapes one leg over his, needing to be closer.
He growls against her skin, and his hands fall to her hips so he can pull her all the way onto his lap. "This okay?" he grumbles, tugging the bottom of her blouse.
She doesn't answer with words; instead, she crosses her arms in front of her and lifts her shirt over her head. She lowers her mouth to his, rolls her hips to try and alleviate some of the pressure between her legs.
He trails his mouth down her chest, his fingers tugging her bra straps down her arms, his lips finding one of her freed nipples. He grips her hips once again, digging his fingers into the fabric of her slacks, and he encourages the movement of her hips with a sharp nip of his teeth on the side of her breast.
"Oh my God," she breathes when his hips buck, thrusting his groin into hers. She can feel his hardness even through their clothes, and the ache between her legs becomes more intense with every passing moment.
She needs to feel him, see him, taste him, ride him.
She runs her fingers through his hair one more time before she reaches between them, playing with the button on his jeans.
He tears his mouth from hers and grabs her hands. "No."
"Why not?"
She thinks the noise that comes from him is a chuckle, but there's no amused spark in his eyes, only deep, dark desire.
"Because the moment you do that, I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk, and that's not going to happen with our children in the next room."
Her jaw drops at his words. She's never had a partner be so blunt with her, not even during what little sexting or phone sex she's done. But goddamn, hearing those words come from Rick's mouth is so arousing she almost comes right then. Her hips give an involuntary roll against his bulge, and she gasps at the pleasure that shoots through her.
"Oh," she breathes, arching her back, moaning when he swirls her nipple with his tongue, his hands splaying across her back as he holds her to him.
He grips her tight as she tilts forward, and she grinds against him, throws her head back in pleasure as the heat between her legs grows with every thrust of his hips and the trail of his mouth back up her neck.
She's barreling headfirst towards climax, her movements frantic, his grunts of pleasure echoing in her ear, and she wonders how he's keeping even an ounce of control.
"Holy shit," he groans, "are you gonna come on my lap?" He cups her ass and pants against her cheek, his mouth open, puffs of hot breath rushing across her skin. "Come for me, Kate. Now," he growls.
She sinks her teeth into his shoulder, not even caring that she gets a mouthful of cotton as her climax rushes through her. His shirt muffles her cry of pleasure as her hips jerk, her release coating her underwear, her core clenching, aching for him.
Finally she slumps against him, her chest heaving as she pants, spent from her first orgasm in ages that did not come from her own hand. It takes her a minute, but she catches her breath and moves to climb off his lap.
He tenses when she slides to the floor and kneels in front of him, slides her hands up his jeans-clad thighs.
"What are you-"
"My turn," she interrupts, rubbing her palm over his clothed erection before reaching for his fly.
"You don't have-"
"Mommy?"
They both freeze at the quiet voice, and Kate winces, quickly fixes her bra and tugs her shirt on. She pushes herself off the floor, ignoring Rick as he attempts to adjust himself so his erection isn't so blatantly obvious. When she spots Reagan standing by the bedroom door, rubbing her eyes and looking pale, she knows her daughter doesn't feel good.
Reagan confirms it by vomiting as soon as she opens her mouth.
Rick jumps up immediately, and Kate rushes to Reagan's side, presses the back of her hand against her daughter's forehead. "Oh sweetie, you're burning up," she murmurs.
Looks like the flu caught them after all.
Rick appears in front of them, a roll of paper towels in his hand, and starts wiping up the floor.
"I'm sorry," Kate breathes, her heart sinking with the realization that they should leave.
Rick shakes his head. "It happens." He gives her an encouraging smile before turning to Reagan, his brows furrowing as he swipes his palm across her forehead. "You probably want to get her home."
Kate doesn't miss the disappointment in his voice, and she's sure her own is obvious on her face when she stands and hauls Reagan into her arms. "Hopefully we don't get Alexis sick. Or you," she adds, her cheeks flushing as she remembers just how passionately they'd kissed just a few minutes ago. If Rick also gets sick, there will be no doubt who gave it to him.
Rick's eyes darken, his mind obviously right there with her. "We'll be fine. I'd offer to take you home, but Alexis-"
"I'm fine to drive," Kate insists. And she is; thanks to their make out session on the couch, or whatever she'd call dry humping him until she came so hard she almost passed out, her two glasses of wine have long worn off.
She's grateful that she wore flats that are easy to slip on when Reagan refuses to leave her arms, and she mutters her thanks when Rick helps her put on her coat. She hesitates at the door, wondering if she can get away with kissing him, if later Reagan would have more questions than she has answers.
Rick seems to sense her indecision, and he brushes his lips against her cheek, his hand curling around the swell of her hip. "Let me know when you get home?" he asks, his voice low in her ear, his fingers squeezing, the promise of next time in his touch.
She can only nod.
Somehow she manages to get Reagan home without more vomiting, but once they step foot inside their apartment, her luck runs out. Kate fires off a short text to Rick that they made it home, then ignores her phone and everything else as she focuses on her sick daughter.
Reagan's fever breaks early Saturday afternoon, and once Kate gets her to eat a few spoonfuls of soup, she finally feels like she can breathe. It isn't the first time Reagan's been sick, but it breaks her heart just as much every time.
Kate carries her daughter to her own bed, leaves the door cracked open so she can hear when she wakes up. She glances at the mess in the living room, dirty blankets and clothes littering the floor, decides that they can wait. She grabs fresh clothes and steps into the bathroom for a quick shower.
When she decided she was going to keep her baby, she'd realized that her tiny, Hell's Kitchen apartment wouldn't cut it. She'd hated to leave that studio with its controlled rent, but it needed to be done. She'd lucked out with this two-bedroom apartment in Tribeca; it gets cramped when Reagan has a bunch of toys out, but she's learned how to organize better, and she loves the building and neighborhood too much to leave.
She lets her mind wander as she reaches under the kitchen sink for the cleaning supplies and starts to sanitize, tamping down her own nausea as she does. She'll clean again once Reagan has recovered, but sweeping and mopping the floor and wiping down the counters help burn some of the adrenaline that's been coursing through her since last night.
Her cheeks flush as she remembers just where that adrenaline came from.
Came.
Oh God, the way she'd climbed on his lap, practically pinned him to the couch as she moved, grinded, chased her own pleasure…had been moments from repaying him when Reagan had interrupted…
The reminder of her daughter throwing up on Rick's floor has her leaning the mop against the counter and searching for her phone. She has a vague recollection of throwing her phone into her bedroom, and she finds it under her discarded coat, plugs it in to charge. As soon as she turns it on, it chimes with notification after notification, and she can't help but smile when she sees Rick's name appear on most of them.
Lanie, Maddie, and Jenny were going to come over for a girl's night - code for harassing Kate for details about Rick - so she fires off a quick text to postpone. She replies to her dad, confirming that he'll watch Reagan on Tuesday night when Kate has a meeting that will likely run late, and then with a nervous inhale, she opens the conversation with Rick.
Glad to hear it. Let me know if I can bring you anything.
Thanks for coming tonight.
I mean that both ways.
Her head swims and she has to sit down when she reads the next text, sent just a few minutes after she'd told him they got home.
I can't wait to see you again. And I can't wait to see *all* of you.
She shudders at the blatant desire dripping from his words. If there'd been any doubt about his feelings, or their relationship, before their actions on the couch, all that doubt evaporated the moment their mouths touched. And once he pulled her onto his lap…
They're definitely not casual friends anymore.
Her teeth worry her bottom lip as she continues to read his texts. He hadn't overwhelmed her with messages, just checked in every so often, and she sighs in relief when she sees his most recent one, sent just an hour ago.
I hope Reagan's feeling better. Let me know when you come up for air and I'll send some food over.
She chuckles and types a quick message.
Thanks for checking in. We had a rough night, but she's finally on the mend.
Text bubbles appear almost immediately, and when his reply appears, she grins.
You're alive!
Funny.
She pauses, then takes a deep breath and continues.
So, about last night…pre-puke…
Yes?
…That was amazing.
Just wait until we have a few hours alone. I'll make you forget your name.
She pauses, her thumbs hovering over the keyboard as she tries to come up with a response that doesn't sound too formal or awkward or like it belongs in porn. Before she can reply, the nausea she's been ignoring makes itself known, and she barely makes it to the bathroom in time.
She groans as she swipes her hand across her forehead, and although she recognizes that she likely has a fever, she still grabs the thermometer, mutters a curse when the readout confirms it.
Well, damn.
A sound cuts through her muddled thoughts, the odd combination of arousal and fatigue, and it takes her a moment to realize that she hears her phone. She rushes to her bedroom to silence it before Reagan wakes, and when she sees Rick's name on the display, she swipes to answer.
"Hi."
"Hey," comes his deep husk, concern lacing his voice. "Sorry, you went radio silent so I just want to make sure everything's okay."
"Um…" Kate pinches the bridge of her nose, her head pounding, and lowers herself to her bed. "Yeah, Reagan's doing a lot better, like I said."
Rick pauses. "Why do I sense a but?"
"I'm not great. Pretty sure I picked up the bug too."
"Kate," he breathes. "I'm sorry. Can I bring you something?"
"No, I stay stocked up on meds so I should be okay."
"Do you need someone to watch Reagan? We'd be happy to come get her."
Kate smiles at his offer even though he can't see her. "Thanks, but I'll call my dad. He's closer."
"Okay. If he can't get her, let me know." He pauses. "I want to send you food. Do you think you can eat anything?"
"I-" She's about to politely decline, but she quickly does a mental inventory of what food she has on hand. Reagan had only just been able to keep down soup and crackers, and Kate finished off what little leftovers she had from the previous week. Maybe she should accept.
After a few moments her eyes flutter shut and she begins to nod off, but the sharp snap of her name brings her attention back to the phone. She sits up quickly, immediately regretting it when her head swims, and she groans and has to lay back down.
"Kate, honey, you need to rest." Rick's voice is soothing in her ear, and she starts to relax, barely even noticing that he calls her honey, or that she likes it coming from him a lot more than the last boyfriend who'd used it.
"I'm okay," she insists. It's weak, though, and she can tell that Rick sees right through it.
"What's your dad's number?"
She blinks a few times. "What?"
"Your dad's number," he repeats, sounding so patient she wants to cry. "I'm going to call him to pick up Reagan. I assume he has a key?" He doesn't wait for her to argue that she can call her own father. "You can barely form a complete sentence, Kate. I'm calling in the cavalry for you."
"Okay," she sighs, telling him the number. She just doesn't have the energy to argue, and besides, he's right. Already she can feel sleep pulling her back under, her body's plea to heal. She manages to fight it long enough to make sure her dad arrives, then curls up in bed and falls asleep.