It's a movie moment. A book moment. Something that he'd stick between the rising action and the resolution; maybe devote half a chapter to the build up and the inevitable, sweet, stumbling fall toward completion. He would have been okay with just holding her -- really -- just letting her know through his physical presence that he was there for her, had been, and always would be.

In the instant before she closes the gap, Castle tastes ozone. It's her breath, falling warm and full against his mouth and he can count on one hand the number of times this has happened in real life. In fiction (in his head) it's happened a thousand times, in a thousand different ways. Kate Beckett is kissing him.

That's something you'd turn the page for.

It takes him less than a second to decide. Then he folds his hand over her shoulder, bringing it to the side of her throat where her pulse beats, low and steady. His thumb underneath her jaw. Gently easing her head back to get the better angle, mouth flush and responsive over hers.