She's overly sensitized as it is, nerves vibrating like a plucked string, and the combination of his hands on her and his voice, low and rumbling in her ear, is serving to accomplish something else entirely - besides giving her an otherwise impossible opportunity to unwind.

"Castle," she utters, in what she originally intends to be a small form of protest, but in the aftermath, Beckett realizes it had wound up sounding closer to a moan.