Jack McCoy gritted his teeth. "Dani – are you – I can't –"

"Nearly," she panted against his neck. "Nearly there, Jack, nearly –"

"God – I —"

"A closed class is defined by …?"

McCoy raised his head. "What?"

Danielle Melnick threaded her fingers through his hair and arched beneath him. "Heirs. A closed class –"

Only Danielle Melnick would be thinking of wills and probate law at a time like this. McCoy struggled to marshal rational thought. "Limited and un-expandable after the execution of the will."

"Oh yes," she said, and moaned. "Like that. Right there, Jack, right there — " Her nails dug into his back. "How limited?"

"Definable. Dani, is this really the time ..?"

"The perfect time." She wrapped her leg around his waist, using the leverage to move faster and harder beneath him. "Precedents on definable class?"

"Smith versus Hickson, Witherspoon versus Witherspoon, Macauly –"

"Oh god yes," Danielle all but screamed and McCoy felt her go over the edge and let himself follow her in blinding release. He managed to roll over before he collapsed, spent and limp.

After a moment, she gave a low chuckle. "That was fantastic. God, I knew the minute I saw you in class you'd be a hell of a ride, but Jack, you exceed expectations."

He smiled. "You chose a pretty strange time to revise for a civil pro class we both passed two years ago."

Danielle rolled her head on the pillow and gave him a wicked grin. "The perfect time," she said. "Or I wouldn't be being nearly so complimentary."

McCoy raised his eyebrows. "I should have realized you had your own agenda."

"With a couple of items left on it," Danielle said. "I'm not done, yet."

"I'm afraid I am," McCoy said ruefully.

She raised herself up on her knees, and then straddled his chest. "Not yet. Time to revise your Latin. That lovely mouth of yours was made for more than moot court, Jack McCoy."

McCoy understood the concept, but it wasn't something he'd ever thought he'd enjoy – until Danielle was trembling and sobbing above him, one hand braced on the wall and the other clutching his hair, the smartest and most articulate woman he'd ever met driven to incoherent begging by the touch of his lips and tongue. By the time she shuddered and cried out and pulled away from him, he was hard again, aroused by the taste of her and by the intoxicating awareness that he could make even the formidable Danielle Melnick yield to him.

"And they say Latin is a dead language," he said as she sank down to rest on his chest.

She chuckled, and patted his arm. "I'm sure I have a smart comeback," she mumbled. "Give me a minute to come up with it."

He ran his hand up her back. "I've rendered Danielle Melnick speechless?"

"Don't get cocky," she said. "It's temporary."

He captured her hand and drew it downward. "Too late. So what's next on your agenda?"

"More Latin," Danielle said, sliding down the bed. "Let's move on to the letter 'F'."