Collaboration between chezchuckles and jstar1382 (meaning we wrote it together... ;) lol )

Accept No Substitutes

Chapter Three

Kate stared.

She felt - in that moment - each sensation moving through her body. The heat of the mug where five of her fingers were wrapped around the ceramic, the air dragging in through her parted lips, the hard plane of the chair she sat on.

And she felt Castle's hand on top of hers on the table, the way he pressed down so that her palm was flattened and sweat made a damp ring on the wood. She felt the strength of his outright want, and she felt-

Out of control.

The rushing in her ears of her own frantic heartbeat. The thump of her pulse as it struggled in her throat. Skin too tight across her frame. Lips tingling. Eager.

Thrilling.

"Okay," she choked out. She had to stop, pressing a hand to her mouth to clear her throat, guard her words. "Yes."

The predatory look faded, the blue of his eyes softening. "Yes to what?"

He was going to make her say it. "I… I'm fed up with relationships that are dull and boring and - not even challenging. I want loud. I want something real." And then, as the satisfaction grew on his face, as the reckless brimming want surged inside her, she flipped her hand under his and hung on. "I want you."

His jaw dropped.

She relished the power for half a heartbeat, soaked in the heady wonderful thrill of it, and then she pushed forward and kissed him.

(He tasted dark. Coffee and a man at his wits' end. He tasted like a hint of cream, silky, rich; he tasted like all the things she'd promised to give up if only she could find her mother's-)

Castle's hand came up to her jaw, fingers so wide he dwarfed the side of her face, her neck, sank into her hair. He tugged and she felt the table cutting into her midsection, felt the urge to climb over it and into his lap, felt the giddy relief being quickly subsumed in need.

Her tongue. His hot breath. Her name a groan for mercy.

She jerked back, found her fist in his lapel, holding him against her. His eyes were on her mouth, drugged and stunned, stupefied. She stood up. He scrambled up after her.

She still had hold of his jacket; she was about to drag him out of a warm coffee shop and into the cold all because of a kiss? (Or because of another kiss in an elevator?)

No.

Beckett made herself release him. She sat down.

He collapsed back in his chair. She scraped her hair back off her face (remembered the feel of his hand in it, controlling the angle of her mouth, harsh, pressing her into him for deeper, more). She let out a breath, a long breath, finally met his eyes.

He was wordless.

"I'm not mauling you in a coffee shop," she muttered. He… squeaked? She tried very hard not to laugh, but it made her lips twitch in the corner and he narrowed his eyes. Oh, not laughing now. Wow. He was…

He could be quite intimidatingly male when he wanted to be. How the hell had he hidden all this power for so long? Look at his neck. His shoulders. His wide hands - those hands could hold her hips down and-

"Okay," she blurted out, shaking her head. "Okay, not this. We should - you said you wanted to talk. We need to talk. Talking is good." She sounded weak even to herself. "Oh God."

"Talk? No, I think we've both made ourselves very clear. Talking is over, Beckett. Let's get back to mauling."

She groaned, sank her head into her hands. "Castle." There had to be some kind of formula here, steps they were supposed to take. Rules to follow. There had to be an orderly progression or this was doomed. "You're not helping."

"Kate."

She stiffened at the soft call of her first name, lifted her head to look at him.

"You said you wanted challenging. This is it. This is where it happens. You either take a risk or-" His chin jerked, his jaw set, but his eyes were too much.

Too much emotion there. Too much to deny.

"Let's get out of here," she answered. "I'm done talking."

Beckett's hand was firmly gripping his, pulling him through the crowd until they stumbled onto the sidewalk. She seemed determined, focused, and he was just along for the ride. He felt more alive than he had in months, the electricity flowing from their kissing palms and shooting through his limbs.

Entirely overwhelmed by their physical connection, it took him a moment to realize they were walking in the complete opposite direction from his car.

"Not that I don't love your decisiveness, but where are we going?" he mused, his breath catching when his sight focused on the pure happiness within her expression, her lips stretching in a grin. Her eyes were wild with excitement.

"I want to go dancing."

"Dancing? Kate, stop for a minute," he gasped, bracing his hands against her shoulders and turning her toward him. "Are you okay?"

There was nothing more that he'd love to do than have the woman he called his partner wrapped up in his arms with her body pressed against his, but this was so unlike her. It was like he was in an episode of the Twilight Zone or some body-snatchers horror movie.

"Castle, I'm fine," she said, trying to soothe him, lifting her hand to squeeze his fingertips. "I saw a jazz club a block over on the drive here. Care to dance with me?"

"I'd love to, don't get me wrong. It's just so not like you; you're acting -"

"Impulsive? Figured, it's time to let my hair down, Rick." With a quick wink, she pulled her lip between her teeth, blanching the sensitive skin, earning his complete attention. He could tell she knew exactly the effect she was having on him, but it didn't stop his breath from stuttering when she leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "You wanted to see a little Cops Gone Wild, didn't you?"

"Beckett," he squeaked, his voice a couple octaves higher than normal, as a burst of laughter bellowed from her chest.

"Oh my God. You're so easy! It's a jazz club, not a strip club."

"You're mean," he whined, allowing her to pull his arm, leading him down the sidewalk.

"Come on. If you're good, maybe I'll let you see me drop my top."

He froze at her words, his jaw gaping as she looked up at him with an innocent smirk on her face. She was evil, pure evil but so damn hot.

"Not funny. So not funny…" He grumbled under his breath, following close behind the sway of her hips.

She really enjoyed the presence of him at her side. He wasn't even touching her yet, and she could feel the connection arcing between their bodies, the anticipation for more.

Jazz had been a good idea. The club was the basement level of what were mostly office suites, closed up for the night, while the red-globed lamps on the scattering of tables gave the brick and steel a sultry atmosphere.

They had drinks at the bar, and then they headed out onto the floor, joining a mix of people already moving to the rhythm. It was mostly the trumpet, the drummer going for cymbals, and a cello, and as the music wound around them, the spell was cast. Dark room, dark man looming, wide hands bracing her hips, her back, her shoulders. She slid her arms up his chest and laced her fingers behind his neck, tugging.

He kissed her with ease, jazz and smoke and heat, and it flared in her belly and down her legs. The confidence of his mouth was attractive, and though she'd had to nudge and push and promise things to get him here, she was drawn to the way he'd taken over.

He'd ordered their drinks without asking what she preferred (though of course he knew, and had gotten it right in one). He'd kept a hand at her hip or the small of her back while they'd talked jazz and compared the house band to the legends, his range of knowledge setting off a spark inside her. And now, his initiative holding her close, not letting her move that far from him, and the intimate press of his thighs to her thighs had her drugged with arousal.

She sighed into the last of his kiss, lifted her lids to connect with his gaze.

A feral lust had flared to life on his face, the blue of his eyes like headlights in a fog, and she dragged her hands back down his chest in response. Caught his belt with her fingers, tugged.

It was invitation, and he must have known, but he didn't move to leave. He simply swayed with her, his body a lazy cosine against hers. His hips, the strength of his shoulders, the look on his face that said he was content to play with her for however long they could survive it.

She swallowed roughly and let herself grind.

tbc

thanks for reading! hope you enjoy it!

xoxo