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After the first frenzy of mouths and hands and arms, after she's guided his hand to lie over her heart, everything slows down. Kisses turn soft, quiet, warm instead of blazing hot, and she takes his hand and starts leading him into the shadows.
He knows exactly where they're headed.
She turns to face him, with a tug of her teeth on her lip that would look falsely coy on anyone else, touches his face with her fingertips. Yes, he's really here, and he wants her to show him, not what to do, but where she wants him to begin.
Her fingers curl under the collar of her shirt and the strap of her bra; her gaze loses some focus as she slowly drags the fabric down, tipping her head to bare her neck and shoulder. He lifts a hand to brush back her damp hair, lets his palm follow her hand, smoothing over her skin.
She leans back in his arms as he lays her down on his bed, lifts her head to bring her mouth to his again, and again. As he kneels, suspended over her, the faint memory of her body beneath him on the grass, her disheveled hair framing her pale face, makes him shudder.
"Kate," he murmurs, just like he did then. "I love you. I love you, Kate."
Her eyes fill with tears and his own vision blurs for a moment. Then her arms are around his neck, she's pulling him down to lie full against her and whispering.
"Yes," she breathes. "I love you, too, Castle."