Kate hadn't expected him to remember her. She looked extremely different from the last time they had met, back when she was barely twenty-one and so deep in her grief that she could barely keep her head above water. He had given her a fake name, Alexander, but she had given him the truth of hers.
She couldn't remember why exactly she had decided to trust him, to flirt back and allow him to draw her away from the bar and onto the dance floor when every other man who had made the same attempt had only received a scowl in response. He had felt different and she had been tired, tired of feeling empty and sad and broken. And Richard Castle had helped her forget.
She had only come out tonight at Maddie's insistence. Her old best friend was in town and had begged her to accompany her for the evening, but despite Maddie's good intentions, her friend was oblivious to just how hard it was to leave her own apartment, and Maddie had quickly abandoned Kate at the bar for an attractive man across the chaotic night club.
Kate didn't fault her for it. At least one of them should have fun tonight.
She contemplated getting drunk, drinking until she could hardly stand like her father did every night and forgetting about all of it for just a little while. How wonderful it would be to forget, to breathe without feeling that permanent ache in her chest, so she ordered the first type of alcohol she could think of and buried her hands in her long, dark hair.
Tonight was supposed to be fun. She had curled her hair and worn her favorite pair of heels with a little black dress that she knew accentuated her curves - despite the fact that she had lost so much weight she barely had any left - trying to recapture a confidence she used to own so effortlessly. She told herself she would at least try to enjoy herself, that her mother would want her to enjoy her life, but sorrow had become a constant companion for Kate and that night was no different from the rest. It didn't matter what she did, she still felt numb. And alone.
It wasn't so horrible anymore, though; she was starting to accept the dull ache of grief that had taken a long lasting residence in her heart as normalcy.
She downed the shot placed in front of her before she could find a reason not to, forced her face to remain neutral as the vodka burned down her throat and spread like flames through her chilled limbs.
She pursed her lips when she felt someone take the seat next to her, not in the mood for small talk or flirting tonight, not in the mood for communication at all, but the man didn't speak or show her any acknowledgement, only ordered some whiskey with a name she didn't recognize. And then another shot of vodka was slid over to her.
Kate glanced at the stranger next to her from the corner of her eye, taking in his profile through the curtain of hair shielding her face. He was definitely good looking, she didn't have to face him head on to see that.
"Thanks," she muttered, gingerly reaching for the shot glass and tipping it back, taking it again in one swallow.
"Not a problem, looked like you could use it." He shrugged his shoulders, flippant, but his voice was kind, understanding even, and she arched an eyebrow at the response.
"That bad, huh?"
He smirked. "No, just look like you've had a long day."
"Mm, you could say that," she murmured, ready to raise her hand for another round, but the stranger stopped her, invading her line of vision with a tumbler of amber colored liquid.
"Try this," he said softly, holding the glass out to her in offering, and finally she turned to look at him.
She wished she hadn't.
He was beautiful for a man, older than most of the guys she dated but in an appealing way, with electric blue eyes that were subtly dulled and a well-defined jawline peppered with scruff that she instantly wanted to put her mouth to. His body wasn't bad either. The purple button down shirt he had on looked expensive despite the worn and wrinkled state it was in, but it still clung to him well, revealing a lean figure and a noticeably broad chest that she could already envision pressing herself up against.
Kate bit her lip in hesitation; considering she hadn't felt anything close to arousal since, well, January of last year, it was almost foreign to feel a subtle spark of heat swirl in her abdomen. But maybe... maybe she could like this stranger.
"Trust me, it's better than vodka," he added and she realized she'd been staring for too long.
Kate carefully took the glass from him, working to keep her fingers a safe distance from his, and then touched her lips to the same place his had been.
The whiskey was stronger than she was used to, richer and probably more expensive than she could ever afford, but good, and she hummed as it slid down her throat.
"You're right," she nodded, setting the glass back on the sticky, wooden countertop.
"Alexander," he introduced himself, quietly, as if he thought he would spook her, but she provided him with a timid lift of her lips.
"Kate," she replied.
"Kate," he echoed, like he was testing it out for himself, tasting it on his tongue, and she hated that her name in his mouth sent a stupid shiver down her spine.
"So, you come here often?"
She snorted and he smiled.
"No, you?"
"Oh yeah, total party animal if you can't tell."
She snickered and stood up, reaching for his shoulders when she unexpectedly stumbled. He caught her by the waist, his thumbs landing in the hollows of her hipbones, and she hummed to herself, not even concerned with the part of her that tried to warn her this was a bad idea.
Kate took a step back, slipped her hands down his arms until her fingers snagged in his. She grinned at him as he watched her hands tangle with his before glancing up at her with an arched eyebrow.
"Dance with me," she murmured while she drew him away from the bar with no effort at all.
She wasn't drunk, but her blood was definitely singing with a pleasant buzz from the alcohol as he followed her onto the overcrowded dance floor. The music was fast, pounding and vibrating through her bones, but all she could actually feel was the touch of his fingers on the bare skin her dress failed to cover and the heat of his body searing against hers through their clothes.
So maybe that buzz she felt wasn't just from the alcohol. But it was wonderful and invigorating and everything she hadn't felt in too long and she was so far from ready to give it up.
"Can we get out of here?" she asked after a few songs, before she could stop herself, and almost raised a hand to her mouth, wanting to capture the words midair and shove them back inside.
"Of course," he said, his voice kind, but his eyes had darkened from cerulean to indigo and the arousal was back, swarming her insides like wildfire.
She knew she should back out now, thank him for the drink and the dance and tell him she had to head home, but she continued to lead him through the maze of grinding bodies, towards the exit at the back of the club, her palms sweating and her stomach coiling tightly with anticipation.
She didn't want to go home, she wanted this. She wanted him. And she couldn't remember the last time she had allowed herself the pleasure of something she truly wanted, so what did it matter if she was selfish for one night? She deserved it.
She finally kissed him once they were free of the crowded club and encompassed by the cool night air, backed him up against the wall and took from his mouth until he was filling her senses, twining through her veins and clouding her mind better than the alcohol. He tasted of the expensive whiskey they'd shared, of coffee and mint and something spicy she couldn't distinguish but wanted more of.
"Hotel?" he asked her, his hands skirting the edges of the dress at her upper thighs, but she shook her head. If they took too long, her mind would change and she didn't want that. She wanted him now, quick and dirty in an alley.
He didn't question her, only lifted her in his arms and pressed her against the cool brick of the wall. She arched her spine at the intimate press of him between her thighs as she wrapped her legs securely around his waist, a pool of liquid fire dousing her insides and making her hips buck. He touched his mouth to every part of her he could reach – neck, shoulder, collarbones, the swell of her breasts. She wanted his mouth on every inch of her skin, but she was too impatient and reached between them, freed him from his pants.
When he moved within her, for the first time in nearly two years, she felt a flurry of liveliness flutter inside her. Flares of actual feeling breaking apart the sheets of icy numbness and lighting up her insides with sparks of electricity.
He was a sense of safety she had been lacking; he was tender adoration she had never felt and unfamiliar, unadulterated adrenaline like lightening in her veins that she had always craved. He was just what she had needed.
"Alex," she whispered his name for the first time, dusting her lips over his cheek with reverence she had never felt for anyone else, savoring it for just a moment and thanking him at the same time.
It hadn't taken long to find release. Their lips working with fervor, their bodies gliding together in an effortless rhythm she had never experienced with another person, and she shattered in his arms after only a few deep, long strokes with a sob muffled against his throat. He allowed them both a moment of recovery, supporting her with the trembling wall of his body until she rolled her shoulders and untangled her legs from his hips.
"Kate."
She was attempting to adjust her dress when she looked up to see him staring at her with something she refused to identify as longing.
"Let me take you to dinner."
She smiled gently, but lowered her eyes.
"I don't think that's a good idea."
He touched her cheek, brushed her hair behind her ear and fixed the shoulder of her dress when it slipped down her arm.
"You deserve more than this. More than a quick round in a back alley."
"You don't know what I deserve," she muttered, but he gave her bicep a gentle squeeze.
"I could."
Kate reached up, cradled his jaw in her palm and smudged one more kiss to his mouth, let him taste the sadness on her tongue and the hint of gratitude spilling onto her lips.
"It was nice to meet you, Alexander."
He nodded at the rejection and she was thankful for the understanding response, for the lack of pushing.
"It's too bad, it would have been great," he mused before she could abandon him in the alleyway.
Kate smiled, bit her lip. "It already was."
She didn't look back as she made her way to the street, but she felt the burn of his eyes on her even once she was safely inside a cab on her way back to her apartment.
Beckett splashed some water on her face to clear her mind of old memories that meant nothing. He had said back then that she deserved more, implied that what they had done had meant more, to him at least, but it was just as he had said – a quick fuck in an alley. Nothing more, nothing less, and it was for the best.
If he were to remember her, it would ruin everything.
Kate shed the fluffy, white towel she had wrapped around her body after her shower and slipped into the silk cocktail dress she had bought the day before her encounter with Richard Castle. It had been out of her price range, but it was tasteful and classy and just a tad slutty, and it made her feel sexy. Besides, what other chance would she have to buy something nice for herself in Beverly Hills?
Focusing intently on the dark glide of her eyeliner and the smoky smudge of shadow coating her eyelids, she finished applying the otherwise light coat of makeup, styled her hair in tousled curls, stepped into the black stilettos she had brought from home, and sprayed a single spritz of her favorite perfume to her neck.
She completed the look with a single stroke of shimmering gloss across her bottom lip, pressing her lips together to spread the product. Taking a step back, she examined herself in the mirror – the dark appeal of the makeup, the form fitting dress with the teasing cut out in the back, the tanned length of her legs in the five-inch heels.
Just like before, Castle would be unable to resist.