It was a gradual thing; the way their bodies slowly turned toward one another, unintentionally blocking the rest of the group out.
She could still hear them - just an arms length away - chatting and laughing as they always did, completely unbothered by the fact that she had slipped away into her own little world.
A world that consisted of just her and Rick.
Her thigh was pressed against the length of his, her arm resting - with her palm upturned - across them both. He was telling her a story, of what she wasn't quite sure, because the gentle traipse of his fingertips across her palm and forearm had her mind somewhere else entirely. At some point he had wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. The way his palm moulded to the curve of her hip, the way her frame fit snugly against his side, the way she was actually allowing herself to feel safe and secure in his arms had her stomach flipping at a nauseating rate.
There was something about this man that had pulled her in.
One night, no strings.
He was ruining her plan.
His voice - a low, almost-tired rumble - pulled her from her thoughts.
"I, unfortunately, should be heading home," he said regretfully.
She bit her tongue to stop it from spewing her unfiltered thoughts, to silence the protests that begged to be voiced.
The smile on his face (one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and set flight to a million butterflies in her stomach) told her she didn't need to voice those protests, that they were written all over her face.
"I have a meeting in the morning," he explained as he looked down at his watch.
He sighed, his disappointment as evident as hers must have been. But she knew this night - as much as she had enjoyed it - couldn't last forever.
"I was hoping that maybe I could get your number before I left?"
Her heart skipped a beat as it argued with her brain.
That's not the plan!
"Y-you want my number?" she asked incredulously.
"Well, yeah?" he assured her.
She could tell by the tone of his voice that he was confused by her scepticism and, to be honest, she was a little confused too.
Only for the briefest moment, though.
Her ex: Adam. Adam Fucking Middleton had taken her perfectly intact, guarded heart, cradled it so delicately in his hands and promised her it was safe. He took it to the top of the Empire State Building and tossed it over the side, watching with a smile as it plummeted twelve hundred feet to the concrete below.
She was lucky that she had Lanie to help her pick up the pieces but knew that she couldn't let anyone else in; it was too much of a risk.
Yet, here was Rick and his charming smile, weaselling his way in.
She wouldn't allow it. She had a plan, remember?
"I've had fun tonight," Rick continued, oblivious to her internal spiral. "I don't think I'm ready to say goodbye just yet."
She shook her head slowly as she tried to find the words, a way to let him down gently.
She had, after all, spent hours with him; drinking, dancing, flirting. It wasn't an unreasonable request to ask for her number.
But her plan didn't involve him wanting to actually get to know her. It didn't involve him having anything to do with her after the night had come to an end. It didn't involve him becoming a part of her life in any way, whatsoever, no siree.
"No," she muttered pathetically.
Just stick to the plan.
His hopeful smile vanished, brow furrowed in confusion but he recovered quickly.
A gentleman: he didn't want to give her the impression that he thought she owed him anything.
But his words echoed in her mind - I don't think I'm ready to say goodbye just yet - because if she was being honest with herself, neither was she.
Her eyes dropped to his lips and before she knew it she was inching closer until her lips brushed delicately against his.
She paused in a moment of uncertainty but as his lips locked to hers any doubts she had dissipated completely.
She pulled back slightly. "I don't want to say goodbye yet, either."
He looked at her, staring so deeply into her eyes she thought that maybe he could see right through her but then his eyes dropped to her hand in his lap. He laced his fingers through hers.
"I have to go," he told her, quietly. "Come with me?"
The silence was palpable as he waited for an answer.
"Okay," she agreed with a smile.
His eyes darkened and a lascivious smile slowly spread across his face.
He lifted his hand slowly, purposefully, and tucked a small section of her hair behind her ear before leaning in until his lips were by her ear.
"Let me make a quick call," he whispered.
His breath skirted along her neck sending a chill down her spine. Goosebumps peppered her skin and every nerve in her body felt alight.
She turned her face toward him, hovering just inches away, and nodded.
"I'll be back in just a minute," he promised.
It wasn't until he stood and walked away that she remembered to exhale.
She closed her eyes and shook her head, silently scolding herself. Her heart was pounding and anticipation had coiled in her stomach like a tightly wound spring ready to burst. Against her better judgement, she was letting him in... but right now, she couldn't care less.
She could feel eyes on her and she forced the smile from her face as she turned to face her friends. They sat, watching, with amusement plastered on their faces.
"So, I'm going to head off now," she said as casually as she could, but she was fighting a losing battle against the cheerful curve of her lips.
She just hoped her cheeks weren't as flushed as they felt.
"You're not supposed to get attached," Lanie reminded her, her tone warning.
"I'm not," Kate lied.
His mother and daughter were obviously the furthest thing from his mind. That was, until he opened his mouth and invited Kate back to his place.
Thankfully, he had always been fairly quick on his feet.
After his mother had to move in with them, he was in need of a place he could go when he needed to just... get away. He had become a regular guest at The Morgan-Byrd Hotel in the (almost) four years since, and had built quite the rapport with the concierge team there.
As if fate were on his side, they'd had a cancellation earlier on this evening and had a last-minute room available for him.
"Thanks, Simon. I owe you one."
He ended the call and typed out a quick message to Gregory asking him to meet him out front, before heading back to the table.
The group was gearing up to leave, pairing off to head home for the night; Ryan and Jenny to the comfort of their home, Lanie and Esposito to (Rick assumed) whoever's apartment was closest. As they all walked toward the exit, Kate huddled against his side and he wrapped his arm around her.
"This is us," he said as he spied Gregory pull up right out front.
He let go of Kate and rushed the few steps ahead to open the door for her. With his hand on her lower back, he guided her into the vehicle.
His entire body tensed as he saw a flash of light in his periphery, but Kate didn't seem to notice.
She looked at him and smiled her thanks before lowering herself and sliding along the seat to make room for him.
They were no more than a block from the nightclub before her leg started bouncing restlessly and she began toying with the hem of her dress.
"You okay?" he asked as he placed his hand over hers.
"Fine," she said definitively, but the rapid bounce of her leg didn't ease in any way.
"You sure?"
"I just- I don't usually do this," she admitted.
He arched a brow. "Make new friends?"
She rolled her eyes and shook her head, but he saw the smile on her face.
He watched for a moment as she stared out the window, the glow of city lights illuminating her face as they drove by.
"There's no expectations here," he assured her. "Just say the word and I'll take you home."
Her restless leg came to a halt and she turned to face him, offering a soft smile. "Not yet."
He opened the car door for her and held out his hand. She took it, gratefully, as she stepped out.
Walking hand-in-hand, they entered the building.
"Mr Castle," Simon called as he crossed the lobby.
Rick heard Kate echo his surname, as if to burn it to her memory, and he couldn't help but smile.
"Simon, my man!" he cheered.
He dropped Kate's hand and paced forward, clapping Simon on the shoulder once he was within reach.
"No need to check in, I've got that all sorted for you," the concierge informed Rick. "You'll be in the penthouse tonight, I hope that is alright. I've set everything up for you. Check-out by no later than 11am."
"Not a problem. Thank you so much, Simon."
He pulled the tip he had prepared from the breast pocket of his jacket and passed it to Simon, then turned his attention back to Kate.
"Shall we?"
He wrapped his arm around her and guided her toward the elevator.
They stepped inside the carriage and he pressed the button for the 28th floor. As soon as the doors closed and they were alone she reached up and cupped his face, pulling him closer. Her lips locked to his and his hands fell instinctively to her waist, holding her body to his. He moved fast, knowing they didn't have much time before they'd arrive on their floor, and pushed her back against the carriage wall.
A moan escaped her as his tongue traced along her bottom lip and a chill rushed down his spine. He had to pull back before he passed the point of no return and things got too heated right there in the elevator.
But the lust that burned brightly in her eyes told him that this would be a night he wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon.
The doors opened and they stepped out with a newfound sense of urgency. He led her down the hallway to the private elevator that took them up one more level, directly into the open-concept living area of the penthouse.
They both looked around, awed by the grandiosity of the suite. Sure, he had stayed here before - but never in the penthouse. It's sleek, modern styling felt fresh and bright, but there was still a timelessness to it that felt comforting and intimate.
As she continued to explore the new environment, he headed to the kitchen.
"Want something to drink?" he called out to her.
She looked back over her shoulder. "Uh, just water, please."
He opened the refrigerator to find it fully stocked with the essentials - champagne, fresh fruits and other breakfast necessities - as he had requested, and he made a mental note to leave Simon a larger tip in the morning: he had earned it, going above and beyond to make sure everything was perfect.
He grabbed two bottles of water and headed back to the main living area.
"Thanks," she said with a smile when he handed her the bottle.
As she went back to browsing the shelves, he moved across to the couch and sunk down into the luxuriously soft cushions. He watched as her finger traced the spines of the books that lined the shelves, as her eyes scanned the décor and artwork.
"This place is beautiful," she mused aloud.
She took a sip from her water bottle before placing it on the shelf and moving over to a small media console. She pressed a few buttons and soft music began to play. The unmistakeable, satiny saxophone riff of Careless Whisper filled the air.
She smirked and bit down on her thumb nail to repress an amused chuckle.
"Mood music?" she said as she looked over her shoulder at him.
"I believe they call it easy listening," he corrected.
She walked across the room, slowly closing the distance between them. His eyes roamed up and down her body, taking in every detail now that they were in a properly lit room. Somehow, she was even more beautiful.
When she stood in front of him, he began to pull himself from the comforting embrace of the couch but she placed her hand on his shoulder to keep him in place. She lowered herself and placed one knee on the couch beside him, hovering above him.
He looked down at her leg, the silky smooth skin of her thigh exposed as her dress began to ride up and he couldn't resist the temptation to touch. He reached out and with slow, languid movements he memorised how her supple skin felt against his.
She placed her index finger under his chin and tilted his face to her before leaning down and kissing him. Her kiss was slow and sensual at first, but gradually grew more passionate and urgent.
He reached for her, guiding her closer until she straddled his lap. His hands roamed indiscriminately, learning every inch of her body as their tongues danced and fought for control.
He pulled away and rested his forehead against hers, taking a moment to catch his breath.
"Are you sure you want this?" he asked, one last time.
She straightened up, pulling away from him.
"I mean; you did say you don't really do this," he explained. "I just wanted to check in again."
"Are you having second thoughts?"
"No!" he blurted. "Definitely not."
"Okay." She smiled. "Me neither."
"Okay. I just-"
"Rick," she interrupted.
She placed her palm on his cheek and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.
"Less talking," she whispered.
He smiled. "Got it," he said before kissing her enthusiastically.
He gripped her hips and held her against him before shifting his weight and switching up their position.
Her back impacted with the cushions of the couch and she gasped, obviously not having expected the sudden change, but his mouth colliding with hers again silenced her instantly. Refocused, she locked her legs around his and leveraged him closer, each rock grinding his body against hers as her hands roamed back.
He travelled from her mouth; lips and tongue kissing, nipping and sucking as he mapped the strong line of her jaw and found the most sensitive spots of her neck.
A low, needy moan slipped from her lips and sent a surge of arousal through his entire body.
He rocked his hips, trying to change the pace but she only slowed down. Each languorous move she made had him trembling, desperate for more.
"Are you going to fight for control the whole time?" he mumbled the question against her lips.
Her hands glided up to his chest and pushed until their lips parted and he hovered above her.
"You really think just because you're on top you're in control?" she questioned.
Her low, sultry voice, the desire in her heavy-lidded eyes and the way she held his full attention with minimal effort had him second guessing that.
She rested her hands on her own chest, lazily tracing her fingertip across her collarbone. He watched as one hand journeyed down the middle of her chest, across her torso and in between their bodies until he felt the tugging on his belt. His eyes shot back up to hers and she smiled so innocently.
No, he wasn't in control. Not even a little bit.
She lifted herself to meet his lips, brushing delicately before she shifted further to whisper in his ear. "I don't submit."
"Never?"
"Never."
He shook his head, absolutely boggled by this revelation. "If I let you take control can I have your phone number?"
"Take control?"
She slipped her hand lower, teasing him, and his abdominal muscles twitched in response.
"Keep control," he corrected. "You're very obviously in control here."
She smiled and leant closer, nipping gently on his lower lip.
"I'll think about it," she purred victoriously. "But first... take me to bed."
He woke early, but not early enough.
She was gone.