9. Chapter 9

She isn't running any more.

She can barely catch her breath. Shameful. How has she let it get so out of hand? Kate leans on the stair rail for a moment, then forces her feet upwards.

Sixteenth floor.

Stairs used to be a piece of cake. She used to be able to jog the stairs. Not run. Who can ever run that many stairs? But jog, yes. After Ellery was born, there just wasn't time to be at the gym or the sparring floor for four hours a day. If she was off work, she wanted to be with her family.

But she's a cop. And she owes it to her children to do everything she can to make it home to them.

Damn.

Rick knows; he can see it. That's why his comment this morning. Mm, mornings with Castle. No filter. The man has no filter in the morning when he's still half-asleep and watching her with those lazy, seductive eyes.

Seventeenth floor.

Kate shoves down the burning in her lungs and the twitches of exhaustion in her calves, keeps climbing, half-jog, half-hike. She knows the last time she practiced self-defense moves with a partner was three weeks ago. Not acceptable. Really not acceptable, Kate Beckett.

And she had this whole little thing planned out; she was gonna talk to him about it this week, seduce him into her agreeing with her if she had to. But this? This reminds her that she might not be up to it.

Damn, damn. She hates it when she lets things get out of control.

Always happens though. Just when Dash's stuff is working out right, just when Kate finds peace about Ella's stubborn silence, something else crops up to upset the tentative balance of their family life.

Well, except it's her professional life she's not stayed on top of. Her own damn fault. This will be a good time to start back. Unending stretches of beach. Sand is so difficult to run in, and that makes for an excellent trainer. Rick will no doubt run with her when Alexis gets here, and can baby-sit for them. He likes to chase.

In the meantime, she might convince Castle to wrestle.

Kate grins and surges up the nineteenth floor, past the doorway, on up to the twentieth, past that door, breathing too hard, pushing herself, and to the twenty-first. Penthouse level, but, no, not a Castle kind of penthouse. This vacation was her idea, her plan. Regular commercial flight. Regular condo on the beach.

She wants to wrestle. And Castle, the man loves grappling her sweaty limbs, trailing his fingers up the wet line of her spine.

Kate wrenches open the stair door and walks quickly down the hall, trying to give herself a good cool down, knowing it's impossible now.

All she can think about is Castle's long body over hers, pinning her.

Damn.

The open hallway lets the breeze from the gulf brush across her skin, drying her sweat. She flips up the welcome mat outside the door and pries the key card off the floor, swipes it in front of the lock.

The door beeps, the light turns green, and Kate pushes it open softly. She has to catch the weighted door before it can slam shut, and then she presses it gently closed, drops the key card onto the hall table.

Kate brushes her hair back, tries to poke it under her pony tail. In the hallway, she stops for a second in front of the kids' room, hesitates with her hand on the knob. She can still faintly hear the television.

When she opens the door, bottom lip between her teeth, the darkness makes it hard to see at first. And then the television flashes blue across the bed, highlighting the boy. Asleep. Her heart eases. She closes the door softly, puts her forehead against the doorframe.

Good. Good. That's good.

Now to wake the big boy.

Castle twitches awake, the strange feeling tickling the back of his neck, warmth slowly radiating into his back-

"Mm, SweatyKate," he murmurs, opening his eyes.

She laughs over him, and he turns onto his back, reaching up to keep her from tumbling off. Sweaty for sure. Slick under his hand at her back, the hard knobs of her spine, the sweep of her ribs. He can smell her, pleasure and work. The good kind.

"Hey there, handsome," she murmurs, and licks the side of his face.

"You licked me?" Despite himself, arousal coils in his gut. "Mm, you licked me." She laughs again and lifts off of him, entirely disappointing. "Wait, wait. Where you going?"

"Come with me."

"Oh jeez, Kate, I was trying. Halfway there-"

She squeezes his ear, and he yelps.

"Hush, you baby. Ella's asleep. In our bed."

"And will be for hours yet," he grumbles, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "Where we going?"

"Balcony. Come on."

He opens his mouth and she ducks down to kiss him, silencing his next inappropriate comment. Can it be inappropriate if you're propositioning your own wife? Can't be.

Kate pats his cheek. "Gotta check that mouth in the morning, Castle."

"You can check it all you like." But he gets out of bed, wincing at the morning light, and takes the hand she offers him. "Huh. Touching that doesn't lead to sex? Doesn't this break your rule?"

She tugs on his fingers, ignoring him, and he lets her lead him out of the room, closing the door softly behind them. The wide open living room is brilliant with light; it occurs to him that they'll have to be careful to keep those vertical blinds pulled over the sliding glass doors.

She bumps his hip as he crowds her at the door, then they both spill over the threshold and onto the balcony. The morning light over the Gulf of Mexico creates a blanket of gems strung along the horizon, red and orange and yellow kissing the blues and greens of the ocean.

Kate turns around, running shorts and tshirt clinging to her body, limned in light. He reaches out and breaks her rule, hugging her against him just because, sweaty and all. "No sex, but I just want to hold you in the sunlight."

She sighs against him, rubs her hand down his back. "You know that's not a hard and fast rule, Castle."

Oh really? "When has it moved from, 'Castle, after I work out, I don't want anyone touching me, especially not you, unless you want to have dirty sex' to-"

Kate checks his mouth with another soft kiss; he lets her move slowly, a little surprised by her going-nowhere perusal of his mouth. His kind of kiss.

When she breaks from him, he grins at her, watching the nimbus of light on her hair. It's gotten dark again these last few years, but in the sunlight it's already starting to streak to chestnut. Those little hairs escaping her ponytail curl around her face.

"Not that this touching won't lead to some pretty great sex, Castle, but yeah. The rule can change as I. . .get better."

"Better?" He huffs at her. "This isn't rehab, babe. You wanna touch me, I'm all for that. You want me to back off, I can do that too."

"But you don't like to," she says, and the fact that she says it from just under his chin, tucked under him? - he's not worried.

"Yeah, but seriously. My hands all over your hot body is probably not socially acceptable. Or all that practical."

"You're not a practical man," she whispers, her tongue snaking out to his chin, her teeth following. "Not the point though."

"There was a point? Other than to let me see you all sweaty and gorgeous in the sunlight, on the balcony, with the ocean? And then start that dirty sex?"

She hums laughter against his throat and his hips involuntarily buck against her. Damn. Too early for her to be doing stuff like that and not mean it.

"Ah," she says slowly. "I like that. But first."

"This isn't first?"

"I had a point. It's. . .fuzzier every time you do - oh - that."

He grins and releases her hips, letting her have some space. "Okay, babe. What was the point?"

"Stop with the babe," she mutters, but she looks just a little knocked off course, standing adrift now. He sinks into the lounge chair and hooks his knee over the arm, watches her watch him. Yeah, he's got her. She steps forward, probably totally unconsciously, and takes a deep breath.

Closes her eyes. Damn. No hot morning sex yet then. Hot *and* dirty, he promises himself.

"My point. I - I wanted you to see it, this, first." She opens her eyes and turns back to the ocean, the sun glittering in the sky, the haze burning clean.

"I see it. You're gorgeous."

"Castle," she sighs, but her lips are quirked when she turns to look at him. "The ocean. The sun?"

"Still. You. Kate you blow it all away."

She comes to him and settles in V of his legs; she's always been a sucker for his words. Castle sits up a little and scoots back, giving her room, sliding his arm around her waist. Kate runs her fingers through the hair on his forearm, brushes her thumb over his elbow.

Her head comes back against his chest.

"I did something," she says.

"Oh?" He wants to brush his lips down the side of her neck, cross his legs over hers to hold her in place in front of him. But he has an idea that this is going to be an Active Listening conversation. One in which she'll talk a lot about something and he'll have to dig through to get to the real meat of it. Profile her.

So kissing the long, white column of her neck would be counter-productive, unfortunately.

"I talked to the Captain."

Oh. This is about professional stuff then. All righty. Where were they on that? She didn't want to take the Lieutenant's test because it came with politics. That's the last he remembers. (He remembers because he used that for the fourth Nikki Heat book, but that was ages ago. Maybe this has changed. He can be prepared for that.)

"About?"

"About you coming back."

"Kate?"

"Please?" She lifts off his chest and turns in the chair; damn, he can't say no to those eyes. Luminous and doe-like, pleading. The look she turns on him in bed when he's driven her crazy and she just wants to do it already. "Please think about it, Castle."

"Kate. The kids-"

"Dash is in kindergarten next year, that's full time. And I talked with Ellery's teacher; she said the three year old class has a five day a week program, and we both know that Ella needs that."

"Kate. I told you. I'm not putting them in five days a week for preschool. I'm not."

"I know. I knew you'd say that, but I mean, I asked and we can enroll her in the five days a week, pay for it, but only send her three days. I asked. . .they're willing to be flexible and take her any of those days, Castle. If we needed it to be Monday through Wednesday, or if it was Monday Wednesday Friday-"

"Kate. I don't know. I don't think-"

"I miss you. Damn. I hate it, but I miss you, Castle." She bites her lip and turns her head away from him. He can't remember the last time she turned away, overcome by some emotion she didn't want him to see. It's been a long time. He wonders why now.

"You miss me. I'm right here."

She laughs and shakes her head, still looking out over the ocean. "I miss you. . .professionally."

"Professionally." Well, there's something he never expected to hear. "You miss my silly theories."

She laughs, but it sounds a little hollow, a little forlorn. "I miss your smile in the precinct. I miss you teasing me in the car. I miss you bringing me coffee in the morning with your coat over your arm. I miss you sitting in that chair by my desk."

He sighs. "I miss it too, Kate."

"I know you do. And. . .and we could do this. Captain said it was fine for you to come back as a consultant for three days a week." She turns her head back to look at him, curling her knees up into the chair, suddenly made so small, compact, long lines and graceful limbs.

He can remember only a handful of times that Kate has asked for something from him. Asked like this, with pleading in her voice. One of those times was for him to leave her alone, and he refused, and she gave in to him, stayed with him in his loft while she was pregnant with Dash. Another of those times, he gave in to her, and now they have Ella.

So. Fifty-fifty on this.

"Kate, you know how it is. We get in the middle of a case and it's all I want to do. Three days? You know me. You know yourself. Are we gonna be able to limit ourselves to three days?"

"Someone has to pick up the kids," she smiles, giving him a soft brush of her fingers over his sternum. "I think we can make it work. I do."

"We're both workaholics, Kate."

"We can change."

"You don't think people can change," he reminds her, lifting an eyebrow.

"I think anything's possible with you, Rick." She leans forward and kisses his chin, the corner of his mouth.

"I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing?"

"You're very good at it, Kate." He rubs his hands down her back, shifts her hips so that she's straddling his lap. "I wholeheartedly approve of your seducing me. But."

"No buts. Just think about it."

"So this is set up for next year?"

"Um. . .could be as soon as next month. Ms. Kim agreed to let Ella into the three year old class on Wednesdays. So she'd go to the two year olds like usual, Tuesday and Thursday, and then to Ms. Jaimie's class on Wednesdays. You met her."

"Jaimie?"

"Yeah, blonde hair, tattoo on her neck?"

"Oh jeez, Kate."

"She's very nice. She and her husband have that rowdy kid, Elvis?"

"Oh, right. They named their son Elvis, Kate."

"He's cute."

"He's in Ella's class. And he talks too much."

"That's because Ella doesn't talk at all. She's got Dash at home jabbering away, and then in class, there's Elvis and Cici talking for her."

"She's started playing with Jake on the playground. Kim told me that. Have you met Jake? His mom is the one always wearing jeans?"

"Jeans," Kate murmurs, closing her eyes. "Oh. Yeah, I like her. Really casual. Low key. She always says something about my clothes. When I go." Kate shrugs and smiles at him. "She's a writer. Did you know that?"

Castle lifts an eyebrow. "She is not. Why hasn't she said anything to me?"

"I don't think she even mentioned it to me. I think it was Kim. She writes poetry."

"She does *not*," he says, startled. That tiny little girl? Well, woman. Yeah, okay, mother. Jake's mom is clearly Kate's age. Maybe a year younger. "She's a poet? I would never have guessed that."

"Jake's a good kid,"' Kate muses, stretching in the sunlight. "But back to next month. Consulting at the 12th. Dash's pre-K class is every day, Castle. And if we put Ellery in Jake's class on Wednesday's, then. . ."

She lifts an eyebrow, and he can see the hope on her face, a brittle hope. And that. How can he say no to that?

He sighs. "I'll think about it."

She smiles widely, her face more dazzling than the sun, and he'll promise her anything, agree to anything, for a smile like that.

"Oh. Oh, good." She wraps her arms around her neck and kisses his mouth, straight to the heart of him. Hot and clever, her tongue explores, her body unfolds to him.

"Are we getting to the real point?" he says, breaking off from her lips to breathe.

"The real point?" Her eyes are on his mouth; he can feel her fingers at the nape of his neck.

He grins at her, watches her pulse jump in her neck when he smiles like that. Wolfish. She told him that once. He smiles at her like a predator. Yeah. He wants to gobble her up. "The real point of touching SweatyKate."

"Dirty sex?" She laughs and lifts up to her knees, her hands trailing down his chest, and then she's moved off the lounge chair and is heading towards the sliding glass doors. "I'm gonna get a shower. You coming?"

"Not yet, I hope," he mutters darkly, getting to his feet to follow her.

She does him the favor of smiling at that and disappears inside.