37. ThirtySeven: Monday
Thirty-Seven
He came by only an hour ago, gave her the whole morning and afternoon to herself, but that as soon as he showed up, that's all it took to find their way into her bed. Slow and lovely, her body meeting his as the rain drowned the world outside. He sits back against her headboard and does the crossword puzzle from yesterday, waiting on her. He brought his laptop thinking maybe he'd do some writing, but she appropriated it.
She presses her toes into his thigh and he lifts his head to glare at her, but she's studying his laptop with interest from the foot of the bed.
"You gonna give that back?" he mutters, reaching down and clutching her toes.
She shivers and glances up at him. "Let go of my foot."
"What? Why? You ticklish? And what are you doing on my laptop?"
"Google maps. And no. But let go - I went running before you came over, and I haven't showered-"
"So what?" he laughs. "Sweaty toes? Kate, I think maybe bodily fluids isn't-"
She glares at him and jerks on her foot, but he hangs on. "I have blisters on the ends of my-"
"Blisters?" He unwraps his fingers, but holds on to her foot, looking intently at her toes. White, puckered skin at the ends of her big toe and the one next to it. "Hey, your index toe - pointer toe? oh man, they need a word for this toe - it's almost longer than your big toe."
"Shut up," she grouses, curling her toes and tugging again.
"No, no. This is good stuff. Deformed toes. Who would've thought?" He squeezes her toe and inspects her blisters. "These hurt?"
"Not really. Sorta. Let go."
He releases her foot and uses his own to nudge her hip, then the laptop she's got balance on one knee. "So what are you doing?"
"Planning my route. Do you mind?" The sarcasm is so heavy in her voice that it sounds ridiculous. Probably what she intended anyway, because a little eye roll accompanies it too.
Castle pulls his feet up and gets on his knees, plants his fists in the mattress so he can lean in and smack her lips with his own. He can taste her grin. He's about to prove to her that he can thoroughly distract her when his phone rings from the living room. Where his pants probably are.
"Ah, you've been saved by Alexis," he murmurs, mouth at her cheek. "Lucky you."
She laughs. "Go get your phone."
He comes back to her bedroom with his jeans on and she shoots him an appreciative look from the bed. She's still got his shirt on though. He doesn't want it back. Yet.
"That was Alexis. She wants to meet us for dinner at six."
"Oh, six?" She winces and glances to the computer screen again. "Okay. Ah, we need to leave now then. We've only got an hour and a half."
"We need to leave?"
"Yeah. I wanted to walk, but it's still pouring out there, so we'll have to take a cab."
"It takes an hour and a half?" He tilts his head and she lifts her hand to him. He takes it, pulls her up off the bed. She comes in close, shutting the laptop and lifting on her toes to brush her mouth against his throat.
"I don't know how long it will take, but I don't want to be late meeting Alexis."
Castle dips his head to kiss the corner of her eye, slides his hands up to her waist. "Okay. So how about you give me my shirt?"
"Ohhh," she murmurs, turning her mouth to his. "Not enough time for that Castle. But I promise. It'll be worth it."
He laughs and cups her hips. "Already is."
The rain drizzles outside the cab's windows, creating a cocoon of muggy intimacy in the back seat. He slides his hand along the pleather and then over her thigh, stroking his thumb over her jeans, fingers curling at her hamstrings.
He loves encircling her leg like this, loves the way she leans into him just a little. They've crossed the Hudson inside the Lincoln Tunnel and come up onto the JFK in Union City. The cab takes a few turns and then stops outside an office building.
Kate leans in to the cab driver. "Can you wait for us? It won't take long."
"Meter's running," the guy mutters.
Kate nods and grabs Castle's fingers, prying them off her leg until they're only holding hands. He follows her out of the cab, sliding off the seat and out into the muted rain. His hair and skin are damp in seconds, and Kate's got one eye closed as she looks back at him, lashes clumped together.
"You coming?" she laughs, tugging on him as she heads for the front door.
"Yeah. Memories," he sighs, grinning at her.
She rolls her eyes and opens the front door into the lobby of the office building. He comes in right behind her and puts his free hand at her neck, brushing her hair out of the way so he can kiss the wet skin there. Mm, memories.
"Get off me, Castle," she laughs, shrugging her shoulders to dislodge him. "I'm trying to show you something."
He realizes she's got her phone in her hand, messaging someone, and he lifts up from her neck, glances around. "Uh. Okay. Lobby of an office building."
"Yeah, I don't think we can go up, but check out the directory. Seventh floor."
She stays where she is, just inside the door, and he heads for the elevators where the white directory lists the names of various companies housed inside the building. Seventh floor.
"Risinger Photography?"
She hums and he glances back at her. "Castle. I've got Ryan here-" She holds up her phone, wriggles it. "-and I've told him he has permission to email you-"
His phone vibrates once - right at that very moment - and he reaches into his back pocket, pulls it out, glancing at her.
"That Ryan?"
He looks at his mail and sees Ryan's official work email. "Yeah, with an attachment."
"Open it. That's what I did at Risinger Photography."
Suddenly he has this crazy-fierce sense that she's somehow slipped away and taken pornographic - but why would Ryan-
"No, Castle," she mutters. "Jeez. Just open the attachment."
How does she know-?
"Oh," he laughs, lifting his eyes quickly to her and then back to the photo on his phone. A - she's - "Tennis skirt?" And tennis racquet, and her foot up like- "Oh my - you are kidding me. You were a model?"
She sighs heavily and he looks back up at her; he knows the giddiness in his eyes isn't entirely merited, but this is good. As good as the weird toes and tattoo and the way one of her br-
"I was trying - I thought it would be easier than waitressing. It was just a summer job. Stop laughing."
"You're mortified. I find that hilarious."
"Shut up," she laughs.
"Why are you showing this to me? Oh wait. Did Ryan hold this over your head and you're just cutting him off at the pass-"
"No," she laughs. "Just thought - it seemed appropriate. I'd come here to the photography studio every week, and they'd have me do photos for catalogues. I got a lot of free clothes."
"Tennis skirt. Look how young you are. Wow. And hot. Can I say you're hot? How old are you here? Still, nice tight sweater-"
"Okay, eyes up here, Big Rick."
He laughs again and then the name, the picture, the modeling - it finally connects. "That case. Fashion Week, right? That was when Alexis's old baby-sitter found me. Ahhh, is that when the guys found this? Oh man. They didn't show me this? I'm supremely offended."
She's grinning back at him, the smile split wide across her face, all beautiful teeth and lips and the shine in her eyes that makes the whole day brighter. Despite the drizzle.
He reaches out and captures her by the hip, pulls her in against him. "You're cute."
"You're kind of lecherous," she laughs. "I was about Alexis's age-"
"Hush, hush. Don't bring my daughter into this when I'm trying to imagine you taking off that tight white sweater." He dips his head and meets her mouth, brushes past it for the column of her throat, his tongue tasting her skin.
She shivers hard and draws an arm around his neck, pulls herself up into him. "Cab's waiting out front."
"So?" He nibbles at her collarbone, glad for the v-neck of her tshirt, the way he can reach so much lovely, tender skin.
"So Alexis is waiting."
He groans. "There you go again, bringing my daughter into it-"
"Dinner, Castle. And then-"
"And then, and then?" he breathes out, lifting up from her chest to look at her.
"I might have that sweater and tennis skirt at home."
"You do not!" he gasps.
"No, but you have a good imagination."