32. ThirtyTwo: Wednesday

Thirty-Two

"Fallacious," she murmurs, humming the word at his throat.

Ug, she's good. "You're trying to kill me."

"Uh-huh. . ."

He slips his hands into the waistband of her jeans, nice and snug, and wriggles his fingers as she yelps.

"Cold. Jeez, Castle."

"You wanted ice cream."

"Ice cream. Not your ice cold fingers on my ass."

He grins and snags her mouth for a smudged kiss as she moves her head away. "That's what you get for being sexy."

"Cold?"

"Yeah, that and my fingers on your ass, both."

She laughs and nudges him away, reaching for her bowl of ice cream. His mother starts down the stairs just at that moment, and Kate tries to pull farther away, but he holds on, squeezing and getting the jerk of her body into him as she gasps.

He laughs even as Martha calls out her greeting. "Hey there, kiddos."

"Mother."

"Um-" Kate narrows her eyes at him and tries to covertly snatch his hands out of her pants, but not-uh, Kate, not happening.

There to stay.

"So. It's an ice cream for lunch kind of day? How nice. I am headed for a date at-"

"A date?" he grins, flashing his mother a curious look. "With whom?"

"Ah-uh. Not going to jinx it. Besides, by the way you two are looking at each other, I'm sure you'd like the apartment to yourselves, so I'll get on out of here."

Kate buries her face against his chest for only an instant, then lifts her head and looks straight at his mother. "That would be nice, but apparently it's not necessary. Castle seems to think he can do whatever he likes no matter who might be around."

His mother laughs, and he feels - is he embarrassed? He's a little embarrassed. Huh, he could even be blushing. Who knew?

Not moving his hands though. He wriggles them a little more, sliding farther, and she lifts up on her toes into him, either in warning or delicious torture. He's going with torture.

"See you guys later," his mother says, waving her purse over her head as she turns for the door.

"Bye, Martha. I hope you have fun."

"Yes, break a leg, Mother."

"You taste like Mocha," she murmurs. "Which is strange because you had Rocky Road."

"Fallacious," he says back, grinning as she hovers over his mouth, hands at either side of his head to hold her up. They stumbled from the living room to his study; she brought him to his knees at some point and they didn't get past the floor this time. Absence makes the heart grow fonder?

"That's not an acceptable use of the word, Castle."

"Sure it is. Your argument is fallacious."

"I don't see how-"

"The idea that I wouldn't taste like Mocha just because I had Rocky Road."

"Still don't see how-"

"You taste like Mocha," he asserts, stretching his neck to capture her mouth with his, sliding his tongue inside to sweep along hers. She gives a little moan, her hips crashing down into him. He slides his hands to her cheeks and holds her there, drops his head back to the carpet to look at her.

She blinks hard and shakes her head a little. "Is that - I'm not sure where we are in this conversation."

He grins, self-satisfied, a little smug, and kisses her again, quickly. "You taste like Mocha, so therefore, I do too."

"But just because I have the taste of Mocha in my mouth doesn't mean that I can't taste anything else-"

"Not what I'm getting at," he says with a laugh. "Actually, I'm saying we've mingled tastes. Your tongue's been down my mouth so much-"

She socks him in the shoulder for that and slides off of him with a laugh, falling down onto the floor. But she puts her head on his bicep, twines her legs around his. He curls his arm up and strokes his fingers through her hair, pressing a gentler, less intense kiss to her still-smiling mouth. She does taste wonderful.

"I don't want you to go home," he sighs.

She goes still for an instant and he knows it was the wrong thing to say. Too much, too soon, most likely, and she-

"Is it bad that I don't want to either?"

He lets out a relieved breath. "No? Maybe."

"I'm not moving in, Castle."

"No. I know." He wishes - but no, what he told Alexis is true. She needs time to be this different person - this person that's let go of her old way of life and started a new one.

"But doesn't mean. . .I can't stick around a night here and there?"

"Of course not. No. Yes. I - I want you to stick around as many nights as you want to."

She hums and ducks her head, her mouth against his side, at that spot where his pecs meet his ribs, nearly at his armpit. She seems to be breathing him in.

"Are you - are you sniffing my armpit?" he laughs.

"No," she says with exaggeration, then sighs. "Yes. You smell good."

"I do? No, no that can't be true. We just - and I know I got sweaty, think you did too, so I'm sure it's not that pleasant-"

"Shut up, Castle. Talking is ruining my hazy afterglow."

"Fine, fine. Sniff away."

She pinches him and he yelps, rubs at his side where she's dug in. Kate knocks his hand away and uses her mouth to skim the bare skin there, easing the sting with the touch of her tongue.

"First smelling and now you're licking-"

"I said shut up, Castle."

"You're leaving?"

She stands in the doorway of his bedroom with her bag in both hands, biting her bottom lip, her hair in a curtain around her face. "I think I should."

"Why?"

"I spent last night-"

"So?"

She shifts back and forth, watching him.

"I don't want you to," he says, and he knows he sounds petulant and a little pathetic, but he feels a little pathetic. He just wants her. He just does. He loves her. After that whole conversation last night about thirty days and thirty years, he feels like now is the time, they should just do this, and he doesn't want to spend any more nights or days without her here.

Even though he knows it's better for her to stand on her own two feet first. He knows it is. Still.

"Castle-"

"Or I'll come home with you-"

"No."

The breath rushes out of him at that, but - but - he struggles for it to not mean what he knows it doesn't mean. It doesn't mean that.

She drops her bag on the floor and walks towards him. She'd caught him as he was coming out of the bathroom and his hands are still damp from washing them, but she takes each palm and kisses it.

He lets out a sigh.

"I am not taking you away from your family," she says softly. "That's why I said no about coming to my place. That and that alone."

"One night isn't-"

"If you came home with me, would it really be for one night?"

He meets her eyes and knows she reads the truth in his. She studies him for a long time, then her hand reaches up and smooths through his bangs, her fingertips lightly skimming his forehead, over and over.

"I ought to go home, Castle. I'm not - I can't move in with you yet. I need to-"

He grins. "Yet?"

She rolls her eyes, leans in to press her closed mouth to his, hard and quick. "Not yet."

"I like the sound of that."

"Give it time. Give us time. Give me time?"

He nods and lifts his hands to her waist, squeezing, tugging her in closer. "So you're staying for dinner, staying the night?"

"Yeah," she gives in, but the way she's looking at him, the way she says it - it doesn't sound like giving in at all. It sounds like delight, it sounds like relief, it sounds like she wanted him to convince her.

He cradles her, palms against her jaw, and touches his mouth to hers, lightly, reverent, grateful. Her fingers curl at his wrists, but she isn't tugging him away, only anchoring him.

Her eyes regard him and then she turns her head to kiss the heel of his hand. When her gaze comes back to his, she's soft and gorgeous and brimming with tenderness. "I do love you."

Whoa.

Wow.

Wow, how that hits him. So good. A punch to the gut, his insides turned out.

"Are you crying?"

"No." And he has to kiss her again just so he doesn't look like a total girl.