AN: Happy St. Patrick's Day darvey fam! Here's a (not so) little St. Patty day smuff fest. Takes place any time before season 7. (Posting this a day late because ff was acting up).
…
"Nice shirt."
She turns to her right, flaming hair whipping in the process. A grin adorns her red-tainted lips when she meets him, her Donna senses having heard him over the cacophony of patrons and music around them.
"You came."
"You told me to."
"Asked you to."
He shrugs, taking a step until his hands planted themselves on the bar top next to her. "Same thing."
She rolls her eyes, and it's then that he notices the smokey green eyeshadow, enhancing her hazel eyes and matching her "Kiss Me, I'm Irish" shirt.
"Where's Rachel?" Harvey asks after a beat, clearing his throat to mask the shakiness he hears, noticing that the young paralegal was nowhere in sight.
Donna sighs, the sound just holding a touch of a dramatic flare, "She abandoned me." When he knits his forehead, she points to the far corner of the room, and his eyes follow her gaze to catch her best friend in a make-out session with Mike.
"Well, they started early."
His companion snorts, "It's this holiday, Harvey. Makes people… cut loose."
He raises his eyebrows, watching her brazen demeanor with half-amusement. The other half he quickly suppresses, sets his jaw to tamper down a desire that forms out of its own volition.
"Even you?" He finds himself asking still, voice throaty and bold.
She smirks, "Maybe not yet."
He watches with acute interest as she snaps her fingers, noticing her emerald green nails- a detail that makes his lips twitch- to flag down the bartender.
"Hey, Marco, I know it's a full house, but I've been waiting for at least half an hour now."
The young blonde man gives her a sheepish smile, swings a washcloth over his shoulder before he fills up a pitcher of beer.
"Sorry, Donna. We're short-staffed tonight."
"You're on a first name basis with the bartender?"
Donna shrugs, giving him a playful nudge as he gives her his own teasing smile. "Don't judge. You've done the same."
"I'm not," he chuckles, tapping his fingers against the wood countertop, "and I know. I was just-"
"Being a smart-ass?"
"It's like you know me so well."
She shakes her head, and given their close proximity, he's able to catch a whiff of her coconut scented hair. He inhales sharply, wills whatever feelings were bubbling to the surface to stay at bay.
"So… what are we having?"
He eyes the bartender- Marco- walking over to them, a tray filled with something he couldn't quite decipher.
"Here you are, Donna. Sorry for the wait. I put in a couple of extra for you, on the house."
"You're a good man, Marco," she winks at the young man, dropping a few bills she had reached from the back pocket of her jeans in the tip jar.
"What the hell are those?" Harvey asks again, eyeing the line of green gelatin shots in front of them.
"Jell-O shots, old man. Don't tell me you've never had them."
"Once. I think. Must've been in college."
"Really? They had those back in the day?" She quips, taking one of the cups and downing it in one-go.
"We're the same age," he reminds her with a light smirk, eyes darkening as he watches her throat swallowing back the concoction.
She shrugs, slides the tray closer to him in offering.
He puts his hand up, face scrunching up just slightly. "No, thanks. I'll order something else that doesn't look like someone already digested."
Donna rolls her eyes, "I don't think they carry Macallan here."
His eyes catch the ones of her claimed bartender, calling out for a beer amidst the loud celebrations surrounding them.
When he turns to her again, she has an eyebrow quirked. He shrugs, "I'm letting loose tonight."
She snorts, picking up another shot and throwing her head back as she downs it in full. He swallows against his own dry throat, watching the creamy area of her neck exposing itself to him.
"I'm surprised you came at all," she confesses after a beat. Marco dropped a bottle of Heineken in front of him, and he lifts it to her in cheers. She follows suit, clinking his bottle with her own shot. Third one in under five minutes.
"Why?"
She shrugs, "You seemed more than… hesitant before. When I asked you to come."
He reaches a hand to rub off the excess exhaustion and stress from his face. "Trial's in two days, Donna."
"And yet…" she motions to him, a knowing grin on her lips.
The corners of his own mouth tug up, "Someone told me it would be good for me. To de-stress."
Donna nods, "It would be." She gives him a once-over, a softness overtaking her features. He'd been overworking himself more than usual these past couple of days, preparing for a trial that had more than set him off with the pressure of needing for it to go well.
So, like the good friend she was, she had asked him to accompany her and Rachel to a little hole in the wall Irish pub on St. Patrick's Day- claimed it would do more good than harm for him.
"I need to prepare for this trial, Donna."
"You've already more than prepared. You're over-prepared. You need to have fun."
"I can't lose this case."
"You won't," she'd insisted with a finality and confidence he envied. "Plus… consider me your good luck charm."
"I guess we'll see," he sighs in the same dramatic flare she's so far more than mastered.
She shakes her head, "Ye of little faith."
He shrugs, grinning over the beer he gulps down.
"And you know… if you do lose the trial. It won't be because of me. You know it's bad luck not to wear green on St. Patrick's Day?" She teases him then, eyeing the suit he still donned from that day's work- now sans tie and coat.
"Who the hell says that?"
"Me."
He shakes his head, "I think you're wearing enough green for the both of us, Donna."
"You can never wear too much green," she sasses, picking up another Jell-O shot.
He eyes her again, feeling his inhibitions lowering as the alcohol in his system begins to run its course. Her auburn hair was standing to attention against the green shirt that hugged her a little too tightly, the v-neck just low enough to tease him with a view he wasn't supposed to be staring at.
"Well, I'll drink to that," he says softly, eyes remaining locked on hers as he downs the rest of his beer. A new wave of desire starts to crash against his heart, watching her own hazel eyes bore into his very soul. Drowning him in a sea of green.
…
Eight shots, three beers and two hours later, the secretary and her boss were in full celebration.
Or as as much as they could be- now sitting down on a pair of stools in front of the bar. They'd let the alcohol they downed reach low in their systems, making their laughs grow closer together, their hands growing bolder in their touches.
Mike and Rachel had come by to bid their goodnight, their giggles making the other pair look on in amusement as Rachel dragged off her boyfriend with little to no reservations.
"You know…" Donna starts, catching her breath from their latest laugh session- not even being able to remember what they were laughing about, "I can't remember a time I saw you so…"
"Handsome?"
"Happy," she rolls her eyes, a smile on her lips.
"Well, I'm in good company," he smirks, lightly tapping the hand that rested on her lap.
"Ever the charmer," she sing-songs. She traps his hand then, eyes glassy from the alcohol she'd administered more than exuberantly.
"Donna,"
His low warning makes her eyebrows quirk. They'd been toeing the line for the past hour, venturing into too dangerous territory more than once, but always pulling back.
"You want to have fun?"
"We're already having fun," he defends, hoping his voice sounded more steady than it felt.
"I mean… more fun," she traces the veins on his hand with her nails, watching as he swallows back against her every caress.
"You mean like go bowling?"
She pokes her tongue out at him, and he laughs.
"Nice tongue," when she raises her eyebrows he's quick to explain, "its green. From your little shot thingies."
She smirks, runs her tongue over lips in a way that wipes his own smile off his face.
"You never did try them."
"Try what?" He frowns, trying to ignore the way her legs bump into his, using their touching limbs to bridge her hand toward his knee.
"The Jell-O shots."
His throat bobs, catches her hand before it could reach higher. "Donna,"
"They were very good," she croons lightly.
"I'm sure they were," he whispers. His eyes flit to her lips, a mix of red and green meeting him and even though it's March, he feels like it's Christmas.
"You want to get out of here?" Donna asks after a beat, her own hand still linked in his, placed just above his knee.
He exhales, "I don't think-"
"You think too much, you know that?"
She's leaning into him now, nipping his jaw and he swears he could feel his very soul leaving his body.
His eyes close, feeling the way her tongue snakes out to taste the angle of his mandible, eliciting an involuntary groan from him.
"Donna… you're drunk," he tries to reason, hands placing themselves on her waist and he knows it's the worst thing to do when he can't imagine pulling away from her now.
She pulls back, however, lips quirked and eyes slightly hooded, "So are you."
He sighs, "You saying you want to-?"
"Just one night, Harvey. Cut loose. Have fun. Consider it a pre-trial ritual in lieu of a certain…" she trails her nails up his chest, sneaking inside to the small opening from where it was unbuttoned, "little metal contraption."
"So, we're trading in our- can opener ritual for a night of-"
"Sex? Yeah."
He's almost taken aback by her bluntness, chokes back a cough as he feels himself growing even harder under her gaze and words. Breathing becomes a challenge.
"Your place or mine?"
She smirks, "Yours is closer but," she looks around, missing his frown as she tries to find what she's looking for. He catches when the a-ha moment comes to light, her face contorting into a bigger smile, "I can't wait that long."
…
It's a blur. The way she leads him, wordlessly against a sea of overly drunk and loud patrons until she reaches what he quickly notices to be a stock room of sorts.
A quip is on the tip of his tongue, a concern he knows he needs to voice, but her hand is clasped tightly against his, talons digging into his skin just sharp enough to make him lose sight of everything but her.
Before he could fight against the fog in his mind, she's shoving him inside the dark closet, just big enough to hold two people.
Her lips are on his in an instant, shutting the door with his body, and if it weren't for the alcohol clouding his brain, he would've commanded her on her strength.
He groans into her mouth instead, holds her hips close to his and she bucks into him as soon as she feels his burgeoning need.
Harvey turns them around then, swallows her squeak of surprise when her back hits the door with a force that has her wrapping a leg around him, making him thrust into her.
She moans against him, tugging on the lapels of his shirt at the same time she slides her tongue into his mouth, letting him savor the alcohol that lingered.
He pulls back suddenly, trailing his lips from a her jaw to her neck, sucking on her pulse point with renewed vigor.
"You were right," he sighs, biting down gently on her skin, "those Jell-O shots aren't half bad."
She chuckles, the noise turning into a whine when his hand wedges between them, unbuttoning her pants to slide it inside her underwear.
"Jesus, Harvey."
"You didn't want to waste any time," he whispers, voice heavy with want and awe at the wetness he immediately finds.
Donna bites her lip, cursing the darkness they were encapsulated in for not being able to see his too-smug of a grin.
"You're right," she whimpers when he grazes his thumb against her clit at the same time he enters her with one digit, "I didn't."
She works to unbutton his pants in record time, blindly working the slacks just far enough for them to fall and reach inside his boxers to grab him. She sighs when she wraps a hand around him, already hard and standing for her attention.
He twitches in her hand, halts his own ministration as she runs her hands over him. "Donna,"
"Fuck me, Harvey."
He groans, her voice low and dripping with sex against his ears and suddenly it's a frenzy. He's crashing his lips against hers again, working in tandem with her to undo her pants completely, letting them fall far enough so he could hitch her leg higher.
"You sure about this?" He pants against her.
Her hands find their way to his chest, holding him against her as she feels the head of him protruding her lightly.
She bites her lip, "More than. Now," she tugs on his lower lip, soothing the flesh with a sweep of her tongue, "move."
He doesn't need to be told twice, making sure she's settled against him before he thrusts into her slowly, twin groans echoing the small room.
"Shit, Donna."
Her mouth is agape, hands gripping the lapels of his jacket as she feels him slowly stretching her. She takes a moment to breathe through the intrusion, mentally thanking him for pausing just long enough for her to adjust to his size.
It's not until she's pulling him down for a kiss, gentler than the ones before, does he begin to move within her.
He tries to keep it slow, wants to savor this moment with her, for them, after too many years apart. But it's her, and she feels like home and he can't hold back any more restraints, the last of his resolve slipping with the armor he'd placed around his heart.
She's meeting him thrust for thrust, moaning against him as he edges her closer every time he hits her in just the right spot.
The familiar tightening in her groin starts to unfurl, and she's grabbing hold of him tighter, whimpering out his name as a plead and a prayer all in one.
"Come for me, Donna," he groans against her, hand sneaking between to rub the bundle of nerves, coaxing a quicker release from her. It's not long before she's keening over, his voice and gentle movements drawing out a salacious moan that brings forth his own release.
He thanks the overzealous crowd outside then, the too loud music he had cursed from the moment he stepped inside the pub. It manages to drown out their twin groans, each expelling their names on heated breaths, mixing with a string of expletives that would've made a sailor blush.
His forehead lands on the crook of her neck after a couple of seconds, hot breath tickling her skin and eliciting a delirious chuckle from her plump lips.
She leans to place a feather-light kiss to temple, skin flushed and heated and she feels her own humming with the same euphoric high.
"If that doesn't bring you good luck, I don't know what will."
He chuckles against her, the sound vibrating her body and he pulls back, wishing he could see her in the darkness that surrounded them. Still, he manages to find her cheeks, cupping them with his hands as he brings his lips to hers in a sweet kiss.
"You ready to call it a night?" He whispers.
She shakes her head, and while he can't see her, he feels the move under his fingertips. "It's still St. Patrick's Day, Harvey. We can't let this kind of luck slip away from us."
He thinks he hears an ounce of something akin to trepidation in her voice, tries to mask his own doubt with a smile he knows she can't see- and he wonders if it's for his own benefit.
"You sure?"
She nods, and they're working toward fixing themselves up again, pulling up pants and smoothing out invisible wrinkles on her their clothes. "One night, Harvey. We're not letting it go to waste."
…
"Seriously?" He laughs, pausing his movements for just a moment.
Donna raises her head off his pillow, looking down to where he was staring, her pants half way down her leg.
She smirks, "I had to match."
Harvey shakes his head, that shit-eating grin still placed on his lips as he pulls the rest of her pants down. She kicks off the offending item, neither noticing where it lands somewhere on the floor.
He leans on his elbow, gently gliding her legs apart as he settles between them. His eyes are a mixture of humor and arousal as he gazes down at the poor excuse of the underwear she donned.
Emerald. Lacy edges. The words "Kiss me… I'm Irish" painted in orange with a bright green shamrock stealing the lawyer's attention.
"This is just…" he plays with the thin band holding the small piece together, snapping it slightly on her skin, "mean."
She chuckles lightly, and he looks up to catch her watching him. He has to still for a moment, lets his eyes adjust to the darkened room until he finds her's. He swallows back, her light smirk alighting something in his heart and groin at the same time.
He inhales sharply, holds onto her thighs without losing her line of vision, and presses a light kiss to her covered center.
She bites her lip, hands gripping the sea of white cotton below her as she heaves out a low whimper.
"This what you had in mind when you put this on tonight?" His right index finger traces the front of her thong, internally groaning when he finds her wet to the touch already. Again.
Donna sighs, trying her best not to squirm under his ministration- silently cursing him when he lets the digit continue a low glide against her. "No," she exhales, "I just thought… shit, Harvey… that it looked cute."
He hums by way of response, dipping his head to nip at the inside of her thighs. "It is," he murmurs, now tracing his tongue from the apex of her thighs to her lower abdomen and back again. Somewhere in their hectic make-out frenzy entering his apartment, they had taken off her St. Patrick's Day shirt, leaving her in an emerald green bra and matching panties.
"Very cute," he continues. His voice had taken on a smugness to it and she finds herself rolling her eyes on reflex, the motion apropos by the way he continues teasing her, this time holding the elastic band between his thumbs.
"You're an ass."
He chuckles, the sound reverberating through her, and this time she locks her legs around him, holding them above his back. His dress shirt was open, and she could just barely catch a glimpse of his toned chest from her current vantage point.
"That's a smart-ass comment for someone who isn't in a position of power at the moment."
"Oh no?" Her eyebrows raise in challenge, and before he could counter with his own complacent response, she's using her lower limbs to pull him forward, until his lips grazed her center.
"Point taken," he praises, voice gravely and filled with something akin to awe. He locks his gaze with her again, waiting just a fraction of a second before he's tugging on the straps of the lace, using her own guidance to pull the fabric as far down possible.
He licks his lips, settling against her again with his arms strategically placed under her legs. He pauses, sets his jaw and shifts in his spot as his own arousal continues a slow climb.
"Waiting for something?" Donna breathes, willing herself not to beg for him, knowing it was exactly what the asshole of her boss and friend wanted.
He shakes his head, "No, just… taking the moment in."
The quip she'd formulated to throw his way dies on the tip of her tongue as soon as his finally meets her.
"Shit," her head falls back with a low slump against his feather pillows, mouth agape and eyes screwed shut as he begins to work a slow magic on her.
He sighs against her, pulling back just long enough for her to emit a whine that makes his dick twitch in the restraints of his pants.
"God, I missed this."
Donna gasps, hands tightening on the sheets below her as his tongue grazes her clit. "You only… did this… fuck… once before."
"Hmm, too damn long ago."
He settles into her completely, lapping at her with a gentleness that soon makes her eyes prickle with a fresh wave of tears, arching into his touch.
She feels the room spinning then, as her eyes open and face the ceiling of his room. Her vision is soon a kaleidoscope of colors- blurring into galaxies and stars as she feels herself descending into nirvana.
Her hands find their way onto his hair, simply keeping him place as he uses a torturous mix of tongue and teeth, and soon enough she can't focus on anything but the coil tightening in her abdomen.
"Oh God, Harvey…"
But then he stops.
Her head snaps up, sending him her current version of a death glare as her chest heaves with the breaths she tries to take. She meets his eyes, black as coal and glimmering with something she can only discern as unbridled smugness.
"Harvey," she grits her teeth, tugging a little too hard on his short strands, eliciting a throaty chuckle from him.
"Patience," he croons, pressing a light kiss to the apex of her thigh, "if you're a…" he nips gently at her center then, pulling back just long enough to watch her head falling back again on a low whine, "…good girl, I'll give you what you want."
"Fuck you," she breathes.
He chuckles again, three little words catching in his throat by the wave of euphoria she's already emitting.
"You're… amazing… you know that?" He compliments between kisses, conveniently missing her still aching center, and he bites back another chuckle he only knows would send him to the doghouse when she squirms against him.
"And you're currently at the top of my hit list, Specter."
He sighs, "I'm just savoring the moment, Donna. Sue me."
"I might just," she grits her teeth, using her leg muscles to pull him toward her again.
"Hmm, hope you know a good lawyer."
His fingertips walk a slow pace up the inside of her left calf, having slid down somewhere in the middle of his tease. He glides them up until they're grazing her outer lips, seemingly waiting for her next reaction to continue.
"I'm not sure," she seethes, "I might kill the one I currently have."
This time he lets himself chuckle, still drunk on crappy beer and her, so he grants himself this moment of freedom- without the worry of rules or the meaning of them standing in the way. He just focuses on her.
"God, I love you."
She ceases, the fingers on his hair slacking and she wonders if even he heard his low admission. But before she could respond, let her heart succumb to the meaning of his untimely words, he's sliding two thick digits inside and she's forgoing any chance of coherency.
Instead, her back bends in a perfect arch, greeting his gentle intrusion with a moan that echoes through the still of the night.
He pauses for just a moment, allows her contracting walls to settle before he sets a low pace, rocking his fingers gently into her.
His mouth lands on her again, devouring her like a last meal, humming against how her every thrust meets his own. He curves his fingers slightly, making her gasp out his name and he's sucking lightly on her bundle of her nerves, catching her as she falls.
Donna quakes in his arms, not paying attention to how hard she's pulling at his strands, but somewhere in the back of her mind- far behind the fog that settles in the forefront- she thinks he doesn't care.
A low chuckle escapes her, mixing with the gasps and groans she expels as he gently continues to lap at her, increasingly becoming dizzy with how good he feels against her.
He sucks one final time, making her come twice in the span of twenty seconds. He waits her out, watches as she shudders and comes down from her high with a sigh he wishes he could bottle up forever.
He lets her ride out the final waves of her orgasm, only pulls back from her completely when a ghost of a smile meets her lips.
Harvey smiles, a full lightness hitting him square in his chest, and he squeezes her thighs, holding him against her lest he fall back.
He kisses up her stomach, trails his lips to the valley between her breasts until he meets her lips. "You good?" He greets her with another chaste kiss, falling off to the right of her with his own satisfied sigh.
"I'm- gonna need a moment."
"That good, huh?" He grins, bringing a hand up to lightly trace over her sweat-soaked skin.
"I'm too tired to fight with your smug ass right now, but… yeah," she breathes, slowly re-introducing oxygen to her lungs, "it was."
They meet halfway for another kiss, tender and too unlike their earlier unhurried ones.
"Didn't expect to get this lucky tonight," she manages to giggle once they part.
He quickly matches her mirth, "You're still drunk."
She shakes her head as best she could in her current position, barely unmoving and nearly glued to him, "I only had a few drinks."
"You had eight of those tiny disgusting green Jell-O shot things."
"Uh uh, it was seven."
"Like that's any better," he purses his lips, voice teasing but eyes soft as he brings his hand up to caress her cheek."
She leans into him, kissing the inside of his wrist before she snuggles closer to him.
"I should go home."
He pauses his movements, willing for the lump that quickly settled in his throat to pass. He swallows it down, rakes his eyes from her wild manes painting his white pillows copper, to the smokey green eyeshadow that had lured him into her siren call in the first place.
"Okay," he sighs at last. It's not what he wants to say, but he knows she doesn't want anything more than this one drunken night. Knows it was a fluke after their St. Patrick's festivities got out of hand right when they got too handsy- and that tomorrow would set them back to where they were once before.
"But I don't want to."
He almost misses her words, by their low whisper nearly drowning in the space between them. He wills his ever hopeful heart to settle, reminds his semi-fogged up mind that it's best not to read into things. Never with her. Not where it counts the most.
"You could stay here," he begins to reason instead, "we're both pretty out of it, anyway. You sleep here and I'll sleep on the-"
Her lips find his mid-suggestion, teasing him with a gentle sweep of her tongue that has him groaning into her.
"-couch," he finishes sheepishly. His eyes are glassy as he watches her, silently studying him. The light from the moon outside his windows illuminate her in a silver glow, and he finds himself unable to breathe.
"You told me you loved me."
He knits his forehead, trying to reclaim a sense of clarity against her words and proximity. It's only when her own hand cradles his cheek does he awaken from his momentary trance. "I- did?"
She nods, lip caught between her teeth, and he watches the internal struggle of her thoughts untangling before him. "You did."
Harvey swallows, "That was-"
"Let me guess, in the heat of the moment?"
"Donna,"
"Did you mean it?"
"You know I did," he sighs, heart hammering against his chest with a renewed sense of purpose. He thinks she could feel it when she inches closer to him, covered breasts almost flushing against him.
"Then why-"
"Because you only wanted it to be for one night."
She pauses, stays silent as his whispered words resonate within her, make her ears ring with the echo of his admission.
"I did," the redhead finally confirms quietly.
Harvey nods, "So… it's settled then. One night."
Her eyes search for his, tries to see past the darkness to find the tiny glimmer she knows still resides in his gentle gaze.
"Is that what you want?"
Harvey sighs, hand falling out of its own violation to land on her waist. He sets a low caress then, partly subconscious as he tries to get his brain functioning at a normal level again.
"I think you know what I want."
"I'm not a mind reader, Harvey."
"I thought that was exactly what you were."
She cocks her head at him, and he knows she caught his futile attempt to lighten the mood.
"I want what you want, Donna."
"And you know what I want?"
He shakes his head, "No. Maybe. I don't know." He brings his hand up to scrub the exhaustion off his face, settling it on her skin again. "Maybe we should wait to have this conversation tomorrow? When we're both a little more… inhibited."
"I'm feeling fine," she reasons with a half shrug.
He chuckles despite himself, the humorless noise making her arch an eyebrow his way. He sobers up just as quickly, "I don't want to screw this up, Donna."
"You won't."
"Then why don't we sleep this off, at least? Wait until I cook you breakfast and we're both- fully clothed."
She gnaws on her lower lip.
"What?"
"That's when you usually make your break. Run for the hills."
He frowns at her admission, a low guilt settling in him then, "That's not-"
"That's what you did last time," she reminds him.
"I didn't leave you in bed, Donna," he defends quickly. He recalls the other time- their first time- remembering how he woke up in her arms and they toyed the line with another round before he had to leave.
"No. You woke me up first. Then you bolted."
"I did not-"
She raises her eyebrows.
He huffs, settling closer against her still, a growing habit now.
"I just- you not wanting to talk about this now is the same reason why I don't want to wait 'till the morning to have it," Donna finally confesses quietly.
"Neither of us want to screw this up." She shakes her head in agreement. "I won't bolt, Donna. I want to figure this out. Whatever this is. Plus, you're the one staying over this time."
She quirks her lips slightly by the playful nudge he gives her. "Still," she frowns again, "doesn't mean you won't run."
"I won't," he promises, hand snaking up to lightly palm her left covered breast, "You're my lucky charm, remember?"
"You trying to distract me or something?" She sighs against his ministrations.
"Hmm, if I was trying to distract you, I'd be doing this." He leans over her, lips landing on the curve of her neck, placing open-mouthed kisses against her skin.
She grins, mewling against his tongue's work on her as his thumb lightly grazes her nipple above the green lace.
"You're persistent, I'll give you that."
He pulls back then, watching her plump lips gaping to let extra doses of oxygen into her lungs, "I'm just trying to make the most of tonight."
"And tomorrow?"
He watches as she waits for his response on baited breath, and he hates that he placed even an ounce of doubt in her mind.
"We'll start a new chapter of whatever… we want this to become."
Harvey leans over, catches her lips in a series of open mouthed kisses, making her reach out to him, curling her toes into his mattress as he slips his tongue into her mouth.
"But tonight… we'll continue to celebrate the holiday of your people."
Donna laughs, the sound airy and full, igniting an electric current straight to his heart, "My people?"
He nods, humming against her skin as he sets a new line of kisses from her jaw to her chest, greeting the line of freckles he knows resides there with gentle sweeps of his tongue.
"God bless the Irish."
She shakes her head, cheeks aching from grinning so much. "You're ridiculous."
He pauses, shoots his head up to gaze up at her as he plays with the edges of her bra. Eyes holding enough emotion to make her halt her breath.
"Lucky, is what I am."