67. Chapter 67

The kids have gotten cranky, and sun-tired, Castle thinks, so he starts herding them back to the towels, away from the pitfall and the army men's titanic battle against the sand beasts. He gets out their waters from the bag, hands them each one, waits until they start drinking before turning back to the bag to look for snacks. Dash plops down on a towel, sand liberally caked all over his exposed skin, starts messing with Ella about her sand dollars, tries to grab one from her hand.

Castle yanks him up, sits him down on the other side of the beach chair. "Leave your sister alone."

"Daddy, I want to see-"

"Later. When you can be nicer about it."

Dash's lip quivers; he crosses both arms over his chest and turns his head away. Good enough.

He pulls out goldfish crackers, debates the wisdom of letting their sandy hands all over their snack, but shrugs and gives it up. They've probably swallowed ocean water and eaten sand already today, little more can't hurt. He pours some out on the towel for Ellery, then does the same for Dash on his towel next to the chair.

"Dig in."

Kate snorts at him, pulling her hair back into a rubber band, and rewraps her beach-skirt-cover-up thing. She calls it a cover-up, but it doesn't cover a thing. Her narrow ribs, the flare of her hips, the long and fantasy-rated length of her legs - the cover-up only accentuates it all with its black, gauzy material, fluttering in the breeze. The two piece swimsuit is modest enough, but she looks sensual - gorgeous - in everything. A sack would still somehow flatter her.

"Castle, wanna get the toys?" she says, gesturing to the pitfall.

"Dash, help me start shoving sand-"

"No!" Dash crams the last of his goldfish crackers into his mouth, sucks down som water. "I don't wanna fill it up."

"Dash. We talked about this," he warns, bending over to grab the mesh bag they keep the beach toys in. He starts throwing in shovels and buckets, searching for army men that are stilled buried. If they leave a few, no big deal, right?

"Daddy, you can't make me-"

Rafe and Allie return from the boardwalk, bottles of water in hand, just in time to witness Dashiell's meltdown.

Castle lifts an eyebrow at his son. "Dash."

"Daddy, no. It's perfect and I worked all day, all day-"

"We can make it again tomorrow."

"I'm not doing it all over again!" he shrieks, grabbing fistfuls of sand and raising them over his head, cocked to throw. And the kid has a wicked aim; all that baseball he loves.

Kate snatches a fist, stilling his tantrum. "Dashiell Alexander. Do not even."

Dash pants, his chest heaving as he glares at both his parents, furious and impotent and too proud to back down now.

Rafe sits down on the towel next to Ellery, hooks his arms around his propped up knees. "Hey, Dash."

Dashiell flicks his eyes suspiciously to Rafe, but his hands are still clenched around the sand he's threatening to throw.

"I bet that if you don't pitch a fit - I bet me and Allie could take you to the pool. You and Ellery both. But if you're tired, and you throw a fit, then I guess not. The pool is only a reward for having a good day."

Dashiell drops both hands; Kate releases her grip. Castle watches his son for a moment, then glances over his shoulder at Rafe, impressed. Distraction. Either he's been listening to Alexis, or he has a natural talent for handling kids. And honestly, the incorrect grammar didn't even bother him.

Much.

Dash doesn't say anything to this offer, but he does give Kate a long, measuring look, as if to determine how likely it is that his mother will let him go to the pool.

"Dash," Kate says softly. "Help your father pick up the beach toys. Fill in the pitfall so no one gets hurt. Then we'll see."

Dash releases the sand in his fists back to the beach, wipes his palms slowly on his swim trunks. He stands up, gives another long-suffering sigh, then shuffles over to Castle.

"Good job, my man." He turns to Ellery, points at her. "Give those to Mommy; let her keep them safe. Okay cricket? Then you have to help clean up too."

Her face narrows in that mutinous look, like she's going to be stubborn about her sand dollars, but Castle leans over, wraps his fingers around her upper arm.

"Yes, Ellery Kate. Don't make me say it again."

She shoots him a look, silent and rebellious in her whole being, but she grudgingly stands, heads to Kate with her sand dollars cradled against her chest. She's already heard the promise about the pool; she won't risk it either. And Castle knows it's not really the pool that appeals to them - they have a pool at the Hamptons - but it's the prospect of spending time with Rafe and Allie.

And Castle seriously doesn't want to take that away from them either. He brushes his hand through Ella's hair as she comes back to him, dislodging sand, ducking her head with a nudge of his palm as she does. "Good girl."

The pool isn't such a wonderful idea - the kids are so tired - but if Alexis and Rafe want to handle them, he's not going to say no. Wear 'em out. The earlier they go to bed, then the earlier he and Kate go to bed as well.

Kate turns to him, alone in the condo, gives him a little laugh. She's been laughing all day, so much so that her mouth hurts with it, out of practice lately, but here they are. Alone.

They walked up from the beach, all of them, only for the kids to whine for the promised pool; they didn't want to go back; they weren't tired. Promise, Mommy, we promise. Right. But Allie and Rafe offered the treat, and Kate guided the kids under the outdoor showers at the end of the boardwalk, hosed the sand off them, and then there they went.

Leaving her and Castle to lug everything back upstairs and 'get dinner started' - or so he said. She wants to start something else.

She drops the bags in the entry way, takes Castle's hand and tugs him into the living room. Here they are. Alone in the condo. Dinner still a few hours away, really. Sun brilliant through the sliding glass doors. She should have Castle start the laundry, she should put away those sand dollars, she ought to shower the sand off herself as well.

But Kate knows what she *wants* to do, rather than what she ought to do, thinks he does too, if that little stunt in the ocean isn't proof enough. She turns to him with a sly smile.

"So-" she starts, only to be cut short by his mouth on hers, aggressive and claiming, his body crowding her.

Kate pushes back, clutches at a bicep, hooking her other arm around his neck. She bounces once on her toes to warn him, then jumps him, wrapping her legs low around his waist. Castle catches her easily, a smooth, practiced move between them. He kneads her thighs with his wide hands, thumbs digging into her quads, heat building sharply, spiking in her belly, cramping her hip flexors.

"Good catch," she murmurs, nibbles at his jaw as he adjusts her, an arm strong at her spine.

"Mm, thanks for the warning," he says back on a laugh, the hot puff of his breath against her ear, teeth at her lobe, tugging.

"Get this off," she mutters, sliding a hand down the neck of his shirt, the other snaking up the back, hampering her own need in the process, getting stuck. She tightens her legs around him, needing closer, closer.

"You first." His mouth at hers suddenly; she squeezes her knees at his ribs, catches herself in time to keep from doing damage, barely, no broken bones this trip, hears his wheezing breath, his dark, arousing laugh. "That's right, love, let me-"

"Not this time," she pants. His breath falters at her jaw; she takes back his mouth, working her tongue against his, roughly, swiftly.

She feels the moment his knees give, drops both feet to keep them up, smiling to herself in the kiss, lips parted but mouths, tongues still touching, seeking. Kate bumps him with her hip, nudging him back even as she gets both hands under his tshirt and pulls it up, off.

He hisses and his back arches; one of his hands bruising her thigh in reflex, his body stiff and held away.

"Rick?"

"Damn." He shakes his head, opens his eyes. "That hurt."

Hurt? Kate drops his shirt, runs her fingers lightly along his back, feels the immediate and sudden heat of his skin scalding hers. "Oh, Rick," she sighs, pressing her mouth to his collarbone - hot there too, maybe a little pink.

He pulls his shoulder blades together under her touch, wincing. Kate untangles from him, turns Castle around even as he wriggles his shoulders in discomfort.

His back is sunburned. Angry red and flaring with white spots that look like little fingerprints. "Did you not put on sunscreen?" she says on a sigh, trailing her cool fingers down his spine.

He shivers, groaning. "I let. . .Ella do it."

Kate huffs on a laugh, moves back around him to see his face - chagrined, pained, one eye crinkled up as he tries to laugh with her. "Oh, baby, that was a mistake. Let's get some aloe gel on this; I think I have after-sun too."

"But I wanna touch you," he whines, and she's already so on edge that not even the whine, nor the feeling of tender maternal regard can keep the flush from her chest or stop the clench of her stomach from hearing those words. "Kate, I wanna make you-"

"We'll see," she says, but she knows, he knows too, she'll find a way. She needs hard, but she can figure out how to make gentle work just as well. "Aloe." That first.

"That means yes," he growls back at her, his pupils flaring wide, dilating, head dipping towards hers. Hot mouth to match the heat of his back under her careful fingers; he wraps his broad hands around her thighs and hoists her up again; her legs wrap around him in reflex. "I can at least carry you to bed."

She fumbles with the doorknob at her back when they thump against the bedroom door, tries to remember how to make it work even as his tongue traces the skin at the line of her swimsuit. She moans, can't help it, her arm around his neck, fingers in his hair.

They fall back as the door pops open; she grips him on instinct, feels his body tense in all the wrong ways.

"Sorry, sorry-" she murmurs, peeling her fingers off his back, trying to get down. "Castle. Your back-"

"It'll keep. Want this first. Then we can play with aloe, all slippery and cold-"

She jerks, twitchy under his tongue, his mouth, his words. Always the words.

Jeez, she knows better than to let him talk when he's trying to seduce her. Her body aches.

"Yes, this first," she gives in, mostly to herself, pushes him towards the bed, trying to think of a way not to abuse his skin. "Don't lay down."

"Can do," he murmurs. "No fingernails."

"Try my best," she smirks down at him.

He starts to respond, more words, more talking, but she claps her hands to his face, tugs his mouth to hers, hard, breathless, ruthless, then pulls him away, certain she has his attention.

"No more talking, Castle."

She doesn't have to tell him again.