Part of him remains courteously objective to her reactions. A bigger, more prevalent part of him, wonders if this is what Kate Beckett sounds like when she lets herself go. Would she sound any different if he had his hands on her in a more intimate setting? Would she be more or less vocal?

He skims his hands up the sides of her throat, pulling the crown of her head against his stomach. His thumbs resettle beneath her shoulder blades, pulling the last nerve bundles apart, his palms gently kneading her shoulders to spread the feeling around.