"That's right," Beckett says, half-trying to assure herself of all of this, and besides, if they didn't want to do this, they wouldn't, right? It's the logic she uses, at least, right up until the moment Kate flicks her tongue against her clit and she forgets to think altogether.

"Oh, my--"

She bites her lower lip to prevent a flood of choice words from slipping out, but that barely muffles a following whimper, and she shifts again, toes curling, one of her hands scrambling to find something to grasp - trailing down along Bill's chest and stomach, and her wrist ghosts over the tent in his boxers.