Chapter 6

Rick awoke early the next morning to the steady beat of rain on the roof above and the warmth of Kate's body in bed beside him, both gifts for the senses, both blissful in their realness, but far from equal in magnitude. One, he knew, carried the potential to change only the course of his day; the other, he hoped, the course of the rest of his life.

Though the two had drifted to sleep nestled as one, his arm wrapped around her waist and hers hugging it close, they'd unconsciously moved apart during the night. Kate hadn't yet stirred with the light, and seeing her curled up there on her side, close enough to touch, made him feel like a kid again, waiting anxiously for the moment when he could finally dive into his presents on Christmas morning.

She was the present now, the one he'd waited longest for and wanted most, and every minute that ticked by was torturous.

Unaware of the needlessness of his effort, he was as careful as he could be not to disturb her when he eventually eased his way out of the bed. What he didn't know was that she too was awake and had been for some time, her mind racing with thoughts of him—of them—in ways that made it impossible to want to think about anything else. For her that was nothing new. She'd had years of it. But that he was there, his body within her reach, had her longing elevated to fresh heights.

Even without eyes on him, she knew he didn't go far, that he was still there in the hush watching her. The connection they shared made it so. The energy between them in that room that morning made it so.

"Anyone ever tell you it isn't polite to stare?" Kate asked in jest, rolling lazily onto her back.

Rick's hair was flopped this way and that—utterly adorable and begging for the attention of eager fingers, she thought—and his bones crackled and popped a sleepy tune when he hoisted a knee back up onto the bed and climbed half on, leaned temptingly toward her side.

"I'd apologize but I wouldn't mean it," he said and gave her a smile that she mirrored. "Psychopathic captors' handcuffs and kidnapping aside, I thought opening my eyes and finding you next to me in that dungeon from hell was nice. I have to say, though, your being here with me this morning because this is where you wanted to be is a level of nice that I can't even begin to describe." He trailed a gentle hand down the length of her arm. "Good morning, Detective."

"Morning. Speaking of that dungeon, Castle, your hair looks like a tiger got to it." She couldn't help but tease. "Is this how you wake up every day?"

Rick hung his head, shook it disapprovingly.

"Such mockery, and after I let you hog the bed all night. We'll just see how generous I am next time." When a dismissive "Pfft" came his way, he softened again. "You stay, relax. I figured I'd get myself cleaned up a bit and then go down and make us some breakfast. I can come get you when it's ready."

They'd made a stop on the way home the previous night for some groceries, and Kate welcomed his suggestion of eggs and toast before he disappeared into the bathroom. Alone, she sat up, let her toes tickle the fur of the rug as she gave her arms a good stretch above her head, and because he left the door to the bathroom open, she could hear him inside: the sink, the cheery hum of a tune around a toothbrush, then the shower.

That was what brought her to her feet.

At the door, she stood and watched as he stepped out of his flannel pants, lifted his t-shirt over his head and discarded it to the floor. Only then did he discover he wasn't alone, when over his shoulder he caught sight of her reflection in the mirror.

"Hi, why'd you get up?"

With an unvarying rhythm, water continued to patter on the shower's marble floor as Kate walked over to where he stood, rose onto her toes, took his face in her hands, and kissed him in all the ways she'd been fantasizing about not only that morning, but across so many weeks and months that she wondered if in the euphoria of it she'd ever be able to stop.

Her fingers climbed into his mussed hair and closed around it, firm, yielding only when their desire to know the warmth of his skin wooed them away, and Rick let her lead, gave way to her charge not only because it was so clearly her wish, but also because any ability he'd had but a few moments before to think or to operate with any clarity had escaped him, deliciously so.

Little by little, steam drifted into the room, the pair enveloped in its haze, and in a dance animated by the music the coupling of their bodies created, the cloud twirled with them, framing their surrender in a series of fleeting seconds until with one final brush of her lips across his neck, Kate pulled back, not in hesitation but in promise of what was to come.

"That's why," she replied.

Holding him, her arms clasped at his back, she could feel what her body had done to his, and though the effect of his on hers was a titillating secret only she could know, the evidence was just as absolute.

"I should go get ready, too. I'll meet you downstairs," she told him and went.

Standing beneath the spray of her own shower minutes later, the spark of his touch still very much alive,

temptation whispered in her ear. How easy it would've been to give in, to surrender to what so badly wanted release, to experience the pleasure of it alone, but she didn't. For them, together, it would be soon, she knew.

xxxx

"Someone looks comfortable." Kate appeared after a while dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt that was just the right amount of too big. "And you smell amazing. You always smell amazing," Rick praised with an intoxicated sigh when she came in close. "Good shower?"

I wanted you there hung in her throat, but she voiced instead a reserved, "It was, thanks. Yours?"

"Yep, good," he replied, the over-the-top nod that accompanied it signaling there was likely more to the story, which he then promptly confirmed. "Good, and very cold."

Kate's lips curled up at the corners before she popped a chunk of strawberry into her mouth from the bowl he had set out on the counter. "Can I help?"

"Nope, sit. Scrambled eggs are scrambling. Fruit's fruiting. Toast is…" His head darted from side to side, spinning him clear around on his heels. "Okay, so my brain is a tad preoccupied at the moment, but I'm thinking it should probably rebound in a good month or so—three, tops. Worry not, the lady requested toast and toast the lady shall have."

Disregarding his invitation to sit, she nudged her way into the narrow space between him and the counter.

"Preoccupied with what?" she asked coyly knowing damn well with what. It was, after all, the very reason behind her own current bout of welcome distractedness. "You really should concentrate when you're cooking, Castle. Kitchens can be dangerous places." Her eyes dropped to his mouth and then floated back up, an excursion, it turned out, that acted on him as something of an unintended truth serum.

"Added up, I bet I spent days imagining how soft your lips would be and the taste they'd leave on mine." He paused, invited it back to him. "Mint, but kinder. Like a ribbon of white swirled into green."

Kate reached into one of the pockets of her sweatshirt, opened her hand to show him what was inside. "Vanilla," she revealed and tucked away again the tube of lip balm flavored of both.

"The swirl!" Pleased with himself, Rick picked up his thought. "Now that I don't have to wonder anymore and I have my answers, I honestly might never be able to think about anything else. Not that I'm saying that's a bad thing." His wheels began to turn, or so he was playing at. "In fact, it could be what finally helps me knock Patterson down a peg or two. I mean, if Heat and Rook end up just pawing at each other all the time from now on, page after page, chapter after chapter, my book sales could crush Alex Cross."

"Don't even joke. I know how an accident is supposed to look." She narrowed her eyes at him, bumped him with her knees. "And since you seem to have forgotten, Castle, we have kissed before," she pointed out, as if he could've.

Rick fixed his hands on the counter at her either side, pinned her at the hips.

"We tried not to get dead before. What happened in that alley wasn't even in the same universe as what we just did up there. Well, what you mostly did."

Kate spat out a chuckle. He smirked.

"Twisted your arm, did I?"

"If you're into that sort of thing, Detective, I suppose I'd consider it. My safe word has been long established." The Breville machine across the way gurgled and they both threw it a glare for its intrusion. "As the gentleman I do believe I am, I should probably care that I haven't put a mug of coffee in your hand yet, but, I'm sorry, all I do care about is kissing you again. A lot. That's all I want right now."

Kate traced her fingers down his cheek, agreeing through her touch.

"It's impossible how beautiful you are, and I hate that I've never told you that until now because I've thought it every single second that I've been around you since we met."

"You are." She meant it as genuinely as he. "How do you do that, Castle? How do you…" She let her forehead fall against his chest, struggling to articulate it, to summon and arrange adequate words to express the depth of his impact on her heart. "It's not fair," she explained with a playful defeat in her tone, "you're a writer. Your brain does this so easily. Everything I want to say sounds like alphabet soup in my head."

Rick pressed his lips to her wet hair, drew his arms around her.

"I am a huge fan of soup, but you don't have to say anything, Kate. I get it. My brain—yes, even the marvel that it is—doesn't always cooperate with me. It doesn't always cooperate with you, either, which I know you enjoy reminding me about," he mumbled for a smile. "Look, we can just sit with our eggs and fruit, and toast, as quiet as mice, okay? We're here together. That's what matters."

Her body fit so perfectly into his that she could've stood there all day, floating on the rise and fall of his chest, listening to the beat of the heart she'd come to cherish beyond all others, but her need for him to understand the profoundness of her love wasn't one she could let sit quiet any longer, and even if she'd been able to call upon the right ones, her words alone still wouldn't have been enough to express it.

"I don't care about eggs," she said and found his hand, his eyes. "I want to take you upstairs."

"You…right now?"

"Yeah, Castle, now."

Everything else could wait.