JUST ON THE SURFACE
CHAPTER THREE

(REMINDER: THIS FIC IS RATED M)

Castle doesn't even bother to hide his surprise when she joins him in the break room and takes his hand off the espresso machine. And she doesn't bother caring if anyone sees when she leads him back to her desk.

She lets go of his hand long enough to put on her coat and shut her computer down, and then she straightens to her full height, looks him square in the eye.

"Do you have to go home?" she asks.

Castle blinks a few times, his brows furrowing in confusion. "I-what?"

"Do you have to go home?"

"No," he answers this time, shaking his head. "I told Mother I'd be here, and not to expect me any time soon."

Kate swallows. "Good." She starts walking towards the elevator, smiles to herself when she hears him follow. Sometimes, those echoing footsteps annoy the hell out of her. But right now, they're music to her ears.

They're both silent as she drives them to her place, but despite a lack of exchanged words, the silence in the car is deafening. She can almost feel tension pulsing between them, hears the drum of his fingers on his thigh, her heartbeat deafening in her ears.

By some miracle there's a parking spot across the street from her building, so she quickly pulls her car in and turns off the ignition, but before she unbuckles her seatbelt she pauses, indecision and arousal blurring her thoughts.

"Beckett?" Castle asks at her side, sounding concerned, and dammit, why can't he be the selfish, self-centered ass that she thought he was?

He's made it clear that she's in charge of their fake dating. If she's not comfortable with something, they won't do it, period. It makes her realize he's more than the playboy in the press, that he has a soft heart underneath the swagger.

And that if she's not careful, she could fall for him.

She curls her fingers around the steering wheel and squeezes so hard her knuckles turn white.

They shouldn't do this. She should drive him home, then come back, alone. They could continue their current arrangement, the shadowing, and the dating charade. No harm, no foul.

Castle places his hand on her thigh and gives her a light squeeze. "What are you thinking, Kate?"

It's the soft utter of her first name that does her in.

She takes a deep breath, grabs the door handle, and turns to look at him. "I'm thinking we should go upstairs."

Castle's lips lift in a slow, seductive smile. "I think that's a great idea," he agrees. "Before we do, though, and cross a line we can't uncross, I want to make sure we're on the same page."

Kate blinks. "About what?"

"Protection."

She just stares at him. She knows it's important, a necessary conversation with a new partner, but right now she just doesn't care. "Protection?" she repeats.

"Yeah." Castle smirks. "Just how long has it been?"

"Shut up," she mutters, her cheeks burning. She hasn't had a partner since her last boyfriend left, so it's been over a year. She isn't even on birth control anymore. But Castle doesn't need to know how long; hell, he's probably had a string of affairs in the past week alone.

With that thought at the forefront of her mind, his next words take her by surprise.

"I don't have anything on me."

"You-" Her jaw drops and she stares, shakes her head in disbelief. "Do you really expect me to believe that one of New York City's most eligible bachelors, who the ladies tonight call the 'White Whale,' by the way," she adds, ignoring his self-satisfied smirk, "doesn't carry condoms next to his AmEx card?"

Castle levels his gaze at her. "Not since we started our arrangement," he explains. "I haven't been with anyone, and since sex with you wasn't on the table, I didn't see the point."

Kate feels her face flush. He has a good point, but dammit, that makes it so inconvenient. "Fuck," she curses.

Castle chuckles. "I agree."

"We could still…" She trails off, hesitating, then shrugs and forges ahead. "We can fool around."

"I don't start things I can't finish," Castle says in a low husk. His dark gaze drops to her mouth. "Especially in the bedroom."

Her entire body goes hot from his words. Well, okay then.

"Should-" Her voice cracks and she clears her throat, then tries again. "Should I take you home, then?"

"Unless there's a store nearby."

Kate's mind races as she looks at the clock, and her heart sinks with disappointment. "Nothing's open."

"Damn." Castle lifts his hand to her cheek, cupping her jaw, and his thumb tugs at her bottom lip. "Are you on shift tomorrow?" he husks.

"No," she breathes, her arousal almost unbearable at his touch, soft enough to be tender but full of promise.

"Good. I'm coming back in the morning, and I'm not leaving until we're both satisfied."

Kate exhales a shaky breath, heat flooding between her legs, her core trembling with anticipation. "Okay," she finally manages.

The knock sounds early the next morning, and she wrings her hands as she approaches the door, suddenly nervous. She'd barely slept all night, anticipation keeping her awake, the pressure between her legs almost unbearable.

She'd been tempted to touch herself, as she has several times recently, but she'd resisted, hopeful that a day with Castle will reward her restraint.

She expects him to be on her as soon as she lets him in, but he's holding two coffees and a paper bag, and if she didn't know any better, she'd think he looks nervous.

His eyes darken as they sweep down her body, and despite wearing just leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, when his tongue darts out to lick his lips, she's never felt so attractive.

"Hi," she greets him, her face warming under his gaze.

Castle clears his throat and steps inside, glancing around her apartment before his gaze lands back on her. "Good morning." He holds out the tray holding the coffee. "Wasn't sure if you'd already had some, so…"

Kate smirks when she notes the slight tremble in his voice. Oh, he is nervous.

It's adorable.

She takes the one he motions to and gestures towards the living room. "Do you want to sit for a bit? Or, would you like a tour?" she offers. "Not that my apartment's that big."

His gaze shifts to something behind her shoulder, and his lips lift in a slow, mischievous smile. "I'm actually interested in that," he says, walking past her.

She winces when he stops at her bookcase and points at his books. "I was going to hide those," she murmurs, her cheeks warming with embarrassment.

"Why," Castle grins, "so I wouldn't know that you are a fan?" He examines them for a moment, then chuckles. "They're even in release date order. Did you do that by memory, or-"

"Okay, that's enough," she interrupts him, taking In a Hail of Bullets from his hand before he can open it and see his own signature. "If you're just going to make fun of how I organize my books, you can leave."

"Okay, hey, I'm sorry." Castle lifts his hands, palms facing out as she returns the book to its spot. He holds his hand out as if to touch her, but he hesitates, his hand hovering in the air for a moment before falling to his side. "I didn't mean to sound like I was making fun," he continues. "I wasn't. And I'm sorry."

Kate sighs. "Thanks." She lets out a nervous chuckle at his proximity. It's silly, she knows, considering she'd danced in his arms the previous evening, not to mention held hands and shared food several times on their fake dates. And she's felt his lips on her cheek more times than she can count, including last night, after she'd dropped him off at home.

But now, he's in her apartment, gazing at her with his gorgeous blue eyes that keep flicking to her mouth, his now-familiar cologne pleasant to her senses, there for one purpose and one purpose only, and she's nervous.

Not about the sex itself - no, she's optimistic about his abilities in bed.

She's scared to death of falling for him.

At some point, they won't need to pretend to date anymore. His book will be a bestseller, and he won't need the press. He'll stop shadowing her, and they'll go their separate ways. He'll go back to the glitz and the glamour, she'll go back to working too much and eating too much takeout alone on her couch.

But she's received a preview of what her life could be if their relationship was real, and she doesn't hate it. No, actually, the exact opposite: she likes it. But she's a cop, and he's a best-selling author. Their lives are completely different. There's no way they would work for real.

She can't fall for him.

She won't.

When his eyes darken and he stares at her mouth, she realizes she's biting her bottom lip in her contemplation. She glances down at the floor, and she doesn't mean to stare at his crotch, but the bulge is obvious. And, if she's honest with herself, incredibly tempting.

Fuck her anxiety about the future, she decides. She wants to have sex. Right now, with him.

She lifts her gaze back up to his. "What's in the bag?" she husks, hoping that her hunch is correct.

His Adam's apple bobs with a swallow. "Condoms," he answers, his voice tight.

She smirks. "Good." She steps away from him, intending to grab the bag and lead him to her bedroom. But before she even moves out of reach his fingers are around her wrist, and he spins her back around, crashes his lips to hers.

Somehow she manages not to drop her coffee at the touch of his tongue against the seam of her lips. Her lips part, and she tugs her wrist from his grasp, drapes it around his neck as his tongue slides across the roof of her mouth.

She puts her coffee on the shelf behind his head, and she loops her arm around his waist. His hands drop to her hips, and she moans when he tugs her into him, feels his hardness press against her.

"Kate," he breathes, tearing his mouth from hers, brushing his lips along her cheek to trail across her jaw. She tugs at his belt and he groans. "Fuck. Bedroom."

She steps back and smirks, gives his groin a pointed stare before motioning towards the bag on the counter. "Bring those."

"Are you always so demanding?" Castle teases when he returns to her side, bag in his hand. He palms her hip, tugging her into him before sliding his hand to her ass and squeezing. "Because it is totally doing it for me." He grabs her hand and places it on his cock, closes his eyes when she runs her palm over him.

She gives him a light squeeze through his jeans, grinning at the low groan that rumbles from his chest. His forehead drops to hers, and she surges into him, her mouth finding his, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip, smiling at the buck of his hips.

She fumbles with his jeans, and when her fingers finally curl around his length he tears his mouth from hers with a loud curse. He's hot and heavy in her hand, and even as she brushes her thumb across his tip he thrusts into her grip.

"Fuck," he breathes. "Kate-I-"

He drops his forehead to her neck, and Kate feels him jerk, his release coating her hand. She chuckles, extracts her hand from his boxers and wipes it on her sweatshirt.

"I figured you for more stamina," she teases, brushing her lips against his temple. When he lifts his head to give her a half-hearted glare, she chuckles. "Didn't think you'd come as soon as I touched you."

He narrows his eyes. "I'll show you stamina," he husks. He buries his fingers in her short hair and his mouth descends to hers. She grunts when he digs his fingers into her scalp and angles her head, his tongue rough and devastating against hers.

Her fingers grip his sweater and she starts to guide him towards her bedroom, their mouths never parting. Somehow they manage to make it to her room without running into anything, and she doesn't even let him look around before she shoves him to the bed and climbs onto his lap.

The bag of condoms falls to the bed and his fingers curl into the hem of her sweatshirt, and he draws it up her torso, drops his gaze to her chest as the sweatshirt flutters to the floor. She hadn't bothered with a bra, and judging by the darkening of his pupils, that was the right decision.

He trails his finger along the underside of one breast, and he starts to lean forward, his breath hot against her skin, but before he makes contact he lifts his gaze to hers. "May I?" he husks.

She draws in a shaky breath, and she buries her fingers in his hair and brings his mouth to her chest. "Whatever you want," she breathes, her head falling back when his teeth scrape against a sensitive nipple.

She holds him to her as he tugs her nipple, the sharp pain causing her to gasp and roll her hips. She feels herself rushing towards climax already, and he laves her nipple with his tongue, trails his mouth along her chest to her other breast, gives it the same attention.

She rolls her hips, desperate for friction, for relief, and she feels his renewed erection through her leggings, grinds down onto him.

He bucks his hips, and she shudders, an orgasm ripping through her, her release soaking her leggings. Her fingers grip his head, and she gasps a curse when his hand tugs at her waistband and slides down to squeeze her ass.

All she can do is hang on when he stands and turns them around, drops her to the bed, and yanks her leggings off. She hears a sharp inhale when he straightens and gazes at her, and she bends her knees, parting them slightly until his eyes drop to the juncture between her thighs.

"Perfect," he almost growls. He throws his sweater on the floor, his pants and boxers following, but before she can fully appreciate his naked body, he's kneeling over her, trailing his palms up her thighs.

His mouth follows the path of his hands, and she gasps when she feels his tongue on her, lifts her hips into his touch. He prods her entrance with his finger, and she whimpers, drops her knees to the bed in encouragement. When he adds a second finger and flicks her clit with his tongue she arches her back, buries her fingers in his hair as she shudders and clenches around him with her climax.

She vaguely registers him moving, and she hears the rustle of the paper bag and crinkle of a foil packet, and after a few moments he's kneeling over her again, his elbows bracketing her head. She feels his sheathed cock slide through her folds, and she lifts her hips into his.

"Please," she gasps, gripping his biceps, and even through the haze of her lust she sees his nostrils flare. He must be barely hanging onto his control, so she reaches between them, curls her fingers around his erection, and guides him to her waiting entrance.

They both groan when he slides into her, and he gives an experimental thrust, pauses when she tenses.

"Sorry…" she gasps, "Just…give me a sec…"

Rick drops his forehead to her neck and nips at her collarbone, and she gasps, digs her ankles into the back of his thighs as she starts to relax. "Good?" he almost growls into her skin.

She gasps again and grips his shoulders as he begins to thrust, slow at first, speeding up when she begins to lift her hips in time with his.

They quickly find a rhythm, and before long he's panting in her ear that he's close. He hooks his elbows under her thighs and pushes her knees to her chest, and she cries out as he speeds his thrusts, as his pelvis brushes her clit, as she climbs higher and higher to orgasm.

Her name comes out in a strangled groan and he buries himself deep, his hips jerking, his cock pulsing as he comes. She follows him over the edge moments later, and she wraps her arms around him, holds him close as stars burst behind her closed eyes and she shatters.

After a moment he pushes himself off her and slides out of bed, and she sighs when the cool air of her apartment hits her sweat-slicked skin. She hears the faucet turn on, and she shifts to her side to face the bathroom door, gives him a small smile when he reappears.

"I, uh-" He pauses and clears his throat. "I guess I should go," he says, moving around her bed towards his discarded clothes.

She frowns and follows his movements with her eyes. "Or you could stay," she suggests, sitting up and pulling her duvet over her chest.

Rick looks at her, his unfastened jeans resting low on his hips. "Do you want me to?" he asks in a hopeful voice.

Kate draws her bottom lip between her teeth, and she sees his eyes darken at the movement. "Yeah, I do," she admits, her cheeks warm.

He smirks and drops his pants back to the floor, and joins her in bed. He leans against her headboard, links his fingers together on his lap as he looks around her room. "I have to say, Detective," he rumbles, "your decor is softer than I expected."

Kate raises her eyebrows, a defensive retort on the tip of her tongue, but she stays silent and waits for him to continue.

"In the precinct, hell, even on our dates, you're always a little closed off." He shifts his gaze to her. "So I expected sharp lines and a bunch of neutral colors. Not warm, dark wood. And especially not purple sheets," he adds, patting the bed.

Kate scoots back to join him at the headboard. "What color sheets did you think I'd have?"

He shrugs. "White or grey. Not that I thought a lot about your bedroom," he adds quickly when he notices her raised eyebrow, "I'm just saying, you have layers. You don't show a lot of yourself. But now I've seen a whole new layer to you." He glances at her chest. "Well, a few," he teases with a smirk.

Her cheeks warm at his words, her body tingling with desire. Yes, he has seen a lot of her now, and she of him.

"And what about you, Castle?" she asks, throwing the duvet back and straddling his lap. "What color are your sheets?"

His eyes darken and his hands fall to her hips. "You'll just have to find out," he grumbles before surging up and taking her mouth with his.