She went down the steps ahead of him, out of the blood mobile and onto the sidewalk. Guys were still in line; she could see the flame of Alexis's hair in the lobby of the 12th.

His daughter.

His baby. Perfect little fingers-

Her chest was tight; she felt Castle at her side and glanced at him, swallowing hard.

"It was fiction, Kate. Just a story," he said, as if he'd read the look on her face and was trying to soothe her.

She didn't want to be soothed.

"Want me to tell you *how much* of that story was fiction?"

He stumbled on the sidewalk; she kept walking, let him catch up again before she looked at him. His face held that adorable blank panic, the eyes dark with hesitation, his mouth parted in surprise.

"How much?" he said, a little breathless. He reached for her hand and she let him take it. "How much was fiction?'

"Most," she said, slipping a sly smile his way. "For now."

"For now," he echoed and his thumb brushed across her wrist, down her palm between their joined hands.

She hummed agreement under her breath, looking away from him, concentrating intently on the feel of his fingers. The place where they were joined.

"Where are we going?" he muttered.

"Away," she said thoughtlessly, then shut her mouth to try to arrange a better sentence. "Someplace. . .quieter." Well, it wasn't a complete sentence, but it at least sounded articulate. Rather than. . .breathless.

"We need quiet for this?"

This? She knew what she wanted to do to him, with him, and she didn't want to be quiet.

"Not. . .maybe just privacy," she said instead. Because she wanted to press her body against his and seal their mouths together. She wanted to push him against a wall and watch his eyes flash arousal. And maybe she wanted to hear him moan her name in that low, rich voice. "Okay, maybe quiet too."

His hand squeezed around hers then, his gait drew closer so that their hips bumped or their arms tangled. She wanted to shake him off and she wanted him pressed against her at the same time. She didn't know what she wanted, except to find a way to get her skin against his indecently, and not innocently like it was.

She was done with teasing.

"Through here," she said, tugging him to the revolving door of the Excelsior Hotel. Instead of waiting for her to push through, he crowded in behind her, his chest brushing her back, the heat of him taking up all the room between the glass doors.

They shuffled forward, one of his hands sliding around her waist as she stumbled in the tight space. His fingers splayed across her taut stomach, keeping their balance, his pinky brushing low, his thumb at her sternum. How had she missed just how broad his hands were?

The thump of the door spinning signalled her in time, and they spilled out into the lobby. Suddenly soundless. The thick carpet trapped all noise, so that there was only the shush of the fountain and the in and out of his breath on her neck.

Kate blinked in the wide lobby, her heart pounding furiously. Decorum, quiet, modesty, the trappings of her childhood, the politeness and manners called her back to herself.

She had just led Rick Castle into a hotel. This wasn't what she meant.

She'd just meant to find some privacy, not-

Not-

Castle bent over her, pulling her hips back against his, his mouth suddenly at her neck so that her knees gave a little, his body catching hers. When she sucked in a breath, it smelled like him, tasted like him.

"Kate. Where exactly are you taking us?"

She lifted a cool hand to his neck, her fingers glancing across his skin, her head back, her brain swirling and muddled and-

What had she done?

"I don't know," she confessed. That was *not* a moan.

"You ditched work to play hooky with me. . .in a hotel?"

"No," she breathed, shaking her head, but she could feel the hard edge of his collarbone under the back of her skull, the tossing of her hair more like passion than denial.

"I didn't think so," he murmured, but his lips were traveling the column of her neck to her ear.

"I can't - I don't know why I-"

At her jaw, he chuckled, rich and low, and she couldn't understand how she had lost control of this so quickly.

"Since it wasn't your bright idea, can it be mine instead?"

Her breath caught in her chest, her eyes opened slowly to see the ornate lobby, the people lifting eyebrows at their sudden display, the hotel employee steadily making his way towards them, a hundred years of upper crust New York society looking down on them for their impropriety.

"No," she hissed and spun around, trapping her flaming face against his cheek, panic rising in her throat, her hands clutching the lapels of his jacket.

"Come on, Kate," he murmured, sliding his hand to the back of her head and cradling her against him.

She thought, for a second, that he was urging her to. . .to check in with him, but instead, he was turning and leading them back out of the hotel, this time through the regular door, his hand under her jacket at the small of her back.

When Kate stepped out onto the sidewalk and back into the pedestrian traffic, disappointment ran over her in waves, hot and embarrassing and pathetic. She turned her face away from him, tried to quell the panic that also wanted to make itself known again.

Castle grabbed her hand and tugged her out of the milleu of tourists, pulling her towards the crosswalk and away from the hotel entrance. He didn't let them stop until they were waiting for the light to change.

He stood too close at the curb and crowded against her back, one hand sliding from her lower back to her hipbone to keep her against him, his mouth suddenly at her ear, his lips soft, gentle, understanding.

"Kate, when we make love - when - I want it to be in my bed. Or yours. Not a hotel. Not a quick and dirty secret."

Her mouth went dry. All she could do was focus on the blinking hand across the street telling them Don't Walk.

"When we do, Kate, when I finally have you, it won't be an accident, it won't be a whim, it won't be one night. You'll come to me, and you'll take everything I want to give."

The crosswalk sign switched to Walk.