Surprise, pleasant and palpable, ripples through Castle's middle. He almost wants to tell her, Stop, slow down, we've got all night, but he's dimly aware of the time and the fact that they'll both have to be back in the bullpen in a couple of hours. Why not? as his hands settle on her hips, gently pushing her back against the frame, willing as much contact between them as he can get.

Her mouth tastes like the wine; the wine and the ozone and her own, natural taste. It's got his head swimming. His hands come up on either side of her, pushing the t-shirt up her ribcage, thumbs getting lost in the thin cotton. He cups the underside of her breasts in his palms, testing their weight, thumbs skimming her nipples through the fabric of the shirt.