Chapter 15.5 was published separately; it is an M-rated take on To Love & Die In LA. If you are of age, you can find it under my profile as Kiss Me, Castle: LA.

Thanks to wonderful reader yellowbrickrd for the plot idea for this chapter. It is rated R-ish for strong language. Be thou forewarned.

This is a post-ep; near the end of the episode, Castle figures out that Beckett's upset about not getting to read Heat Wave before the reporters. He promises to give her a copy. We pick up that evening, after Kate goes home.

Chapter 16: 2x03, Inventing the Girl

"Delivery for Beckett, Kate."

Kate sighs, rolling her eyes as she wipes her hands on a dishtowel and pads barefoot through her living room. Even if the voice weren't recognizable through her front door, there's still the simple fact that she's drying dishes and doesn't want Castle around right now. So naturally, it can't be anyone else.

She opens the door to find Castle grinning, practically bouncing on his feet, hands behind his back.

"What do you want, Castle?"

"And a lovely evening to you too, Detective." He strides in without an invitation – though is it really so surprising? – and she sighs heavily, shutting the door. Apparently he's not leaving.

"Is there a reason you're here, or is it just to bother me?"

He quirks an eyebrow. "Are they mutually exclusive?" She shoots him a baleful look, and he holds up a pacifying hand. "OK. No. For me they're not. But I really have a purpose. Here."

From behind his back, he produces a book. Kate feels a sudden giddy rush of excitement. Heat Wave. This is the real thing. A book about her, by her favorite author. Wow.

She takes the book slowly, tracing her fingers over the lettering, about to speak, but when she glances back at him, she stops. His grin is just a touch too wide. His eyes are dancing just a little too much. And he's projecting an overwhelming sense of innocence. She does not trust him. Not a bit.

She narrows her eyes. "What's going on, Castle?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all, Detective," he assures her with just a dash too much sincerity to actually be sincere. "Just fulfilling my ongoing mission to provide you with quality literature."

Kate scowls. Looks back down at the book in her hands. Why? All she wanted tonight was to finish the mountain of dishes in her sink and take a bath. She's tired. She's cranky. And she has no idea what he's done. But he has obviously done something.

Castle can't hide his amusement, and he wiggles his eyebrows a little. "Come on. You'll love it. I promise."

Maybe if she opens it, he'll leave. And then she won't have to deal with him anymore. Won't have to stare at that scruffy five-o'clock shadow and that unbuttoned collar and tell herself he's not attractive.

She takes a long look at the little twist of a grin on his lips (and they are not kissable, they are not) and she finally decides to go with it. She pulls off the glossy dust jacket – which, she can see now, is slightly larger than the book it's covering – to reveal, not Heat Wave, but something with a cover featuring a wasp-waisted little blonde bursting out of her corset in the arms of an overly-muscular Fabio-wannabe with his shirt undone. The title is Lady Katherine's Forbidden Desires.

No.

She glares at him. "You're an ass."

"You were complaining you didn't have a good book to read," he shrugs, trying not to laugh at the deathglare she's fixed him with.

Suppressing the urge to growl, Kate opens the book, scanning the inside of the jacket. "'Lady Katherine is trapped in a loveless marriage, suffocated by the strictures of society. Then one day she meets the commoner Reginald, who opens her eyes and reawakens the passions she's almost forgotten. Can she overcome her scruples and find the strength to renew – ' Castle. I can't handle this. Get it away from me." She thrusts the book back at him, but he refuses to take it.

"Oh, no, Beckett. I wouldn't take it away. After all, it's yours now."

"I don't want it."

"It is a wonderful book," he insists, his eyes wide and earnest and far too innocent. "It's the story of a noble protagonist who develops strength by exercising agency in the face of forces that constrain her."

"It's a sex book."

"Oh, it's so much more than th- agghhh! Ow!" She removes her fingernails from his ear, and he clutches at it, grimacing in pain. "Those things are weapons."

"Give me one reason not to throw you out on your ass."

"I brought you a book?" he offers cautiously.

"I am going to hurt you."

"Does it make you uncomfortable? Is that it? I mean, it's such a racy, passionate book. I'd hate to think those dirty passages might make you blush." Castle grins cheekily. She narrows her eyes. Fine. He wants to give her this crappy excuse for a book to try to fluster her?

Two can play at this game.

Castle has wandered into her kitchen – again without asking, though it doesn't surprise her – and to his credit, he picks up the dishtowel she'd dropped and continues wiping plates. Maybe he thinks he can win her over with housework.

Not a chance.

She opens the book and flicks through it quickly, scanning the pages until she sees the words "ardent," "feverish" and "passion." That's what she's looking for.

"'Lady Katherine shuddered with barely-repressed passion as her strong, dashing lover barred the barn door and turned back to her with burning lust in his eyes.'"

"What the hell?" He drops the towel on the counter, narrowly avoiding dropping a dish, and turns around with a shocked expression.

"You gave me this stupid book. I'm just reading it," she returns, eyes wide with mock innocence. "What's wrong, Castle? Too 'racy' and 'passionate' for your virgin ears?"

Castle glares at her but doesn't reply. So, naturally, she keeps reading.

"'Desire sang through her body as Reginald threw her roughly down into the hay, the fabric of her gown sinking around her. "Oh, I am going to feast upon your tender body, Lady Katherine," Reginald growled, lowering himself onto her.'" Wow. This book is crap.

She briefly glances up to see if he's laughing. But…Castle's face is frozen, his eyes darting up to hers nervously. No way. There is no way this is embarrassing Rick Castle, signer of women's chests.

She drops her voice, lets the sarcasm go, and opts for her sex voice, the softer, husky tone she uses when she wants to mess with him. No edge. All silk. Castle never ignores her when she uses this voice. "' – her breasts heaved against the tight constraints of her gown. He ripped the laces of her corset, the garment falling free, revealing her flush, heaving bosom to his hungry gaze.'"

Castle presses his lips together, avoiding her eyes.

"'Their bodies pressed together like waves, and Katherine let out a moan of unbridled passion at the feel of his hardness pressed against the tender cradle of her pliant body.'"

"Beckett – "

"'Lust unfurled its wings, a ribbon uniting them. Katherine sighed with pleasure as she tore open his trousers, revealing the full length of Reginald's quivering member, hot and solid – '"

"Kate – "

His voice is low, a note of warning threaded through its rich undertones. She looks up – he doesn't use her given name very often – and a rush of heat swirls through her veins. Castle's staring at her. His throat bobs as he swallows. Oh. Oh.

How far can I go?

She ignores the steady hum of tension glowing in her veins, because it's not this smutty book. She's never seen Castle like this before. His eyes are dark, dangerous, and he looks like he's about half a breath away from tearing her clothes off. Her face gets hot. She's beyond pretending she's not turned on right now. She likes Castle like this.

She doesn't stop.

"' – she slid her hand over his throbbing manhood – '"

A low hum vibrates through his chest, just barely enough that she can hear it. "Kate, you need to stop." His voice is strangled.

"Does that turn you on, Castle?"

"Kate." His teeth are gritted. He tries to turn away, but she doesn't back down.

"Do you like it when I talk dirty?"

He gulps, doesn't answer, but when he drags his eyes back up to hers, the answer is obvious. She licks her lips, leaning into him, breathing in the scent of his skin, the heat radiating off him in waves. The tendons in his neck are taut, his pulse pounding. She wants to run her tongue over it, taste his skin, make him groan under her. She can. She knows it wouldn't be difficult.

She presses her chest against his, feeling the shudder that rolls through his body, the quick rise and fall of his ragged breathing. She leans in until her mouth is just half a breath from his ear.

"Fuck."

She lets her voice break, putting air behind the f and drawing it out, letting the k get sharp and percussive. He lets out a low noise, somewhere between a groan and a growl, his throat catching. He's still clutching the kitchen counter behind him, his knuckles white. He's holding on. Desperately.

I can ruin you, Richard Castle.

Kate slides her hands over his chest, pressing her fingertips into the firm muscles. She flicks a glance up through the fringe of her eyelashes, catching her breath at the heated desperation in his face. She curls her hands around his shoulders, threading her slim fingers through the silky short hairs at the nape of his neck, and tugs him closer, stretching on her toes to reach him better. She (accidentally) presses up against him, letting her lower body slide roughly over his, sending sparks of heat through her skin. He lets out a strangled breath. He's hot when he's aroused. Really, really hot. And oh, does she want to wreck him. She wants to drive him crazy. She wants him to let go of that tightly wound control and get rough.

She nuzzles him gently, smiling at the shudder she feels running under his skin. Time for the full effect. She drops her breath support, lets all the edge drop out of her words, and sinks into her full bedroom voice. The voice that says Let's get naked. The voice she knows he can't resist.

"Oh, fuck, Castle – "

Before she even finishes his name, his mouth is on hers, his hands sliding eagerly under her shirt. He growls into her mouth, his tongue pressing hot and slick against hers. She whimpers softly, letting him tug at her hips, pulling her firmly into his body. She winds her arms around his neck, and he trails kisses down the line of her throat. His tongue slides over her skin and she gasps, her fingers clenching as he slides his hands over the curve of her ass and his knee settles between her legs. She rolls her hips against his, grinding her lower body into him, letting out a breathy moan as the strong muscles in his thigh rub roughly against her core, flooding heat through her bloodstream.

"You dirty, filthy woman," he growls, sliding his tongue over the seam of her lips. She hums against his mouth, sliding a hand inside his shirt, feeling the hitch and tense of his muscles under her fingertips.

She smiles against his lips, briefly pulling away long enough for him to tug her t-shirt over her head. His hands trail over her newly bared skin, light, teasing, skimming over the flush of her breasts. Even through the fabric of her bra, the touch is electric, and she shivers against him, her mouth dry.

She's about to grab his hand, tug him to the couch – she's way too worked up to stop now, and they're not going to make it all the way to her bed – but suddenly he grips her waist, spins her around, and before she can react, he's shoving her up onto the counter and his hands are on her waistband, nimbly unbuttoning her jeans. She shivers as his hands make contact with her skin. No way. No way this is happening. They're actually going to – up against her kitchen counter –

He gets a hand down the front of her jeans, and she gasps, arching into him involuntarily.

Fuck it.

"What did you think we were doing, Kate?" he grins, his eyes sparkling dangerously.

"Are you going to ravish me right here, Castle?"

He captures her mouth again and she shivers, arching against him as his fingers drag up her spine, pressing into her bare skin.

"I'm going to make you scream, Lady Katherine."

Author's Note: If you could even understand how uncomfortable I was writing those excerpts of Lady Katherine's Forbidden Desires. Ugh. I cringed. Many thanks to Cartographical for patiently cheering me on until the stupid thing was done. And good riddance. And points to anyone who catches the movie reference.

Also, unrelated: a tiny part of me thinks the reason Richard Rodgers changed his name to Castle was in honor of Johnny Castle. I think maybe, deep down, Castle has always been a little bit Crazy For Swayze.

That is all.