Epilogue.
Their calls come at the close of the case. The sharp sound of their cell phones startling them, they step apart, hungry eyes lingering over each other.
She turns, ever the professional, and he can't help but grin, staring at the sway of her hips as she walks away.
He's watching her when he should be paying attention to his agent, watching her when he should be listening, but she's breathtaking and thoroughly distracting and she's coming home with him tonight, no question.
She's animated in her phone call, wrinkling her brow and adorably rattled by whatever she's hearing, moving around only to pause and catch his eye briefly.
He calls out a success - Heat Wave's overnight numbers - and she smiles, pleased for him, proud in a way that sends delighted sparks of pleasure out through his limbs.
They share a moment of triumph at what has been a year of hard work for both of them coming to fruition, and then - fuck - what did Paula just say?
" - three more Nikki Heats?"
Did he hear that right?
She tells him the offer and - holy fuck - that's a lot of money! But he's watching the detective in front of him with the darkest burn of excitement.
Three more books.
He could be at her side as he writes three more books?
Solving cases, driving her crazy on a daily basis, letting the frustration build until they stumble home and strip each other naked and work out their anger issues together.
Oh, he likes that.
The delightful prospect of riled up Beckett and the sweetness of tender Kate all rolled into one. The woman who stakes her claim with passion, raw and sinful. The woman who heard his confession the night before and kissed him senseless, hoping he missed the bright shine of emotion that blurred her vision.
He didn't. And they both know the truth that lingers between them.
In love, quietly, wonderfully, with each other.
But, oh, suddenly she's pacing, her back hunching as she cradles the phone and - oh god, he's gonna pay for this - spinning on the spot.
"He wants me to what?"
She glares, but he mumbles into the phone and tries to ignore it - the flamethrower feel of her eyes as they bore into him. Hot. Sexy!
"Three books! That would take forever." She whines, and he's never heard that sound outside of the bedroom - bathroom and shower cubicle. It's delicious and perfectly timed, and how the hell is he going to keep this professional for three books worth of nights alone with her at the precinct?
Beckett stops dead, her glowing eyes meeting his, liquid fire in her pupils, dousing the brown and green in a swathe of lusty red.
She's angry. She's licking her lips, head cocked to one side like a predator.
God, he wants to kiss her.
Her forehead wrinkles; staring with focused intent she lets him splutter into the phone for a moment before stalking towards him.
Oh, shit.
"You already spoke to the Mayor!" Castle blurts, can't quite believe it. He's not sure he's hearing much above the rush of blood in his ears, a healthy dose of fear creeping in as the hot as hell detective draws close.
"I'm gonna kill you." She hisses, but her eyes dance over his body and she licks her lips again, as if she's pleased with the prospect, as if she's already tasting him.
Is she biting back a smile? He thinks she is, still walking towards him, still coming for him, each footfall ringing out on the marble floor and - fuck, she might actually kill him.
"I think -"
She stops just before they touch, barely a whisper of air between them and her eyes flicker over his body, starting low, the way her hands do, drifting leisurely, waiting for him to be done.
It's fucking distracting and hot and he needs to breathe, maybe listen too because he has no idea what he's saying to the woman on the other end of the line.
"Uh - I'm gonna -"
Beckett sighs expectantly, eyes the phone, arches her eyebrow. There is an element of amusement dancing through that scorch of anger as he flounders a little under her intimate and unnerving perusal.
She loves making him squirm. He's not going to lie, he quite likes that too.
Screw it!
"Paula, I'll call you back."
He gulps.
"I had nothing to do with that." Castle swears, but though her pupils are wide they're focused on his lips, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
Her hand lifts, fists in his shirt, and she sizzles with it again, the emotion that started it all, anger, raw and vivid. She can't fool him though, he knows that look far more intimately than he did before.
She wants to kill him, yes, probably always will, but she also wants to kiss him and his fingers drift to her hip, feeling the sudden jolt of awareness tip her body into his.
There is a little hum of I told you so in her touch, and yeah, yeah she did, the memory of her voice at the party, almost vicious in her belief that there was so much more to Nikki.
His smile comes slowly at the thought of the tales she inspires, she's always sparked something in him, the part of him driven by words feels more alive, more vital, in her presence.
And three more years of this? This connection, this energy, this love that they both know they share, there's no way he's turning that down.
Her hands spread out across his chest and her eyelids drift open, the flammability of their connection burning bright, waiting for the tinder spark that will set them aflame yet again.
She smiles and his mouth runs dry, desperate in its urge to be pressing against hers, his tongue tingling with need. Heat ripples through his blood, rushing low and - fuck it - his promise to be professional is gonna fall by the wayside if she keeps looking at him like that.
Like she wants to find the nearest bathroom and - Fuck!
Three more books?
He's going to die a slow death at her hand, agony and ecstasy, so in love with her it hurts, and he's going to thoroughly enjoy every second of it.
The End.
A/N: Thank you for reading, reviewing, and all the other lovely ways you have interacted with me and encouraged as I wrote this story. Until next time, hugs x.