Shifting with Beckett, helping accommodate the slow rhythm her hips set, Kate forgets how to breathe.
She's lost in the brush of Beckett's hot skin against hers and the press of Beckett's shoulder blades against her chest; the soft sounds Bill and Beckett make; and the way Bill's Adam's apple jumps as he can't seem to swallow enough.
(Part of her wonders and hopes this is what she and Bill look like when they're having sex -- completely caught, suspended, in the present, wrapped up in each other, with everything beyond the bed ceasing to matter, whether it's a few minutes or a few hours.)
Her hands move over Beckett's skin almost involuntarily, smoothing down and up Beckett's hips and stomach, skimming her ribs, cupping her breasts.
no subject
She's lost in the brush of Beckett's hot skin against hers and the press of Beckett's shoulder blades against her chest; the soft sounds Bill and Beckett make; and the way Bill's Adam's apple jumps as he can't seem to swallow enough.
(Part of her wonders and hopes this is what she and Bill look like when they're having sex -- completely caught, suspended, in the present, wrapped up in each other, with everything beyond the bed ceasing to matter, whether it's a few minutes or a few hours.)
Her hands move over Beckett's skin almost involuntarily, smoothing down and up Beckett's hips and stomach, skimming her ribs, cupping her breasts.