The dress isn't the only thing wrong about the night, but it's what starts the trouble.
Robert was supposed to be the one accompanying Harvey to the Sage-Primrose charity event, since many of their clients were attendees. But when he ended up double committed for one of his top client's sixtieth birthday party, the honor went to Louis. Who then ended up canceling, since he and Sheila were at the ER, with their new cat.
Lucky her, Harvey insists she fills in. Making up something about firm presence she knows is a reason to use her to distract him from mingling.
A quick call to her tailor ends with her usual guy on vacation, and his usual magic absent.
The dress the new girl delivers is more than over a touch more revealing than she's comfortable with, but she doesn't have time to be choosy. A V-neck line— emphasis on the V —with a long side slit, and backless, with the exception of two tiny straps that connect low on her back. It's satiny, teal, and sends the message she is planning on letting it fall to the floor with her date after the event.
Which wouldn't be as big of an issue except that her companion for the night, is Harvey.
She can feel it's a mistake as soon as he sees her.
They're meeting in his office. She's looking through the books on his shelf, adjusting any unevenly placed spines. Reminiscing about categorized albums and how they worked together to keep them in place. She hears his steps.
"Only Louis would reward someone with a new cat for sex."
She turns. "Wouldn't you want a gift for chancing a baby girl with his face?" The expected quip from him doesn't come. His jaw is slack and his face is traveling her torso.
"Harvey?"
He darts his eyes away. "We should hurry up and get down to Ray."
There's room enough for an elephant between them in the car on the way there. And he doesn't look at her for more than brief periods, and always above her chin. Instead of avoiding clients, he's leaving her alone to run off to clients.
The tiny misfitted stitches around her waist are like a reminder she should've been in a tub with a glass of wine and ample bubbles.
The night would be positively dull if it wasn't for the stream of men that seemed to appear whenever Harvey disappeared. Mingling is beginning to grow into less patient brush-offs.
She finds a quiet spot to take a break, and sits her clutch on the table beside where she's standing. The move doesn't help, as another guy fast approaches.
He stands in front of her, setting down a full glass of champagne and bumping against the surface so the liquid sways. He's tall, dark, and fairly attractive. He smiles, leaning in his head. "You know, I'd never leave you alone like this." He points through the crowd in Harvey's direction.
"Not surprised. You're not leaving me alone now," Donna replies with disinterest, taking a sip of her own drink before setting it down.
"Come on. Not even a chance? I'm a lot of fun."
Donna rolls her eyes. He's lost before he's even started and it's not worth her effort. Before she can say, 'Get lost', he's a step closer, and chest tenses.
"What's that guy got that I don't? I bet not much." He grins and it's suggestive.
She stands a little taller, not happy with his proximity. "A killer right-hook. But I've been known to throw a few myself if the situation calls for it." She punctuates the warning with an even of her face, and the guy scowls as he pushes off the table beside him, just enough to knock over his drink, spilling it and several others on the table. She swipes at her clutch, trying to grab it, but instead knocks it to the floor, just under the table. He's long gone.
"Shit." She carefully squats, barely able to get much distance with the tight fabric of her dress. The liquid is dripping off sides of the table to the floor. She's trying to avoid the stream while reaching it before she ruins her phone and the rest of the contents.
It's just out of reach. She looks around. Of course, this is the one time everyone is leaving her on her own. No one is noticing since she's purposefully out of the way.
She leans a few more inches and stretches, just managing to get it between the tips of her fingers.
That's when she hears fabric tearing. The feeling of the front of her dress slipping makes her panic and embrace her chest.
The straps aren't attached anymore, and she's pretty sure the cool air on her behind isn't coming from under the skirt.
She glances around frantically, making sure no one is looking while she clutches her purse under her arm and stands. She tries to connect the thin straps with the fabric torn above her rear end.
Shit, shit, shit! She can't reach them with one hand. Transferring the clutch in front, she slips out her phone with her other hand and scans the room. Waiting would bring attention, and judging from the rest of the night that's the last thing she wants. She reluctantly decides on Harvey, managing a voice to text.
Get over by the south doors, now. 9–1–1
He shows up a minute later, looking back toward the crowd. "Donna, I was in the middle of talking with—"
"Get behind me!"
His eyes grow wide. "What?"
"Just...my dress ripped."
His gaze briefly drops, then he quickly complies. "What happened?"
"Does it matter?" She pulls both sides of her bodice snug. "Here, just grab the straps and…"
He does but not snuggly enough and she feels the front slip again. "No, dammit, Harvey. Tightly."
"I'm trying." The backs of his knuckles brush a line mid-back to just below her waist. His touch there puts her spine on alert, and other places she's trying to ignore.
"Don't let go. Bunch it up with the ripped fabric." Just above her ass, the fabric tightens, opening her front slit and exposing ample leg. "Not that much." It loosens slightly. "Okay. That's good. Don't change anything."
"You're nearly indecent back here." His voice is a touch high.
Heat rushes her face, and she swings her head to the side, shooting him a look which he meets with barely repressed humor behind his eyes.
His face quickly evens. "What are we doing now?"
"You're getting me out of here and to my apartment." She glances around the room, trying to hide the unease she feels with a fake smile.
"You really want to take a cab like this?"
"What happened to Ray?"
"I promised him the rest of the night off."
She pulls in a breath. "How am I getting out of here, Harvey?" She's practically whining but she can't tame it with the panic building in her stomach. This isn't the crowd she wants to expose herself to. Not to mention, she's feeling flushed and she's not sure if the blush is from the embarrassment of potentially flashing the crowd, or just him.
"I can give you my coat? With the button and your bra—"
"You don't wear undergarments with a dress like this."
"Nothing?"
She raises a brow.
His eyes trace over her, and his Adam's apple bobs. "We could find maid's closet or something? Wait it out until people leave?"
"You want to stand here for hours holding my dress on?"
"You really want the answer to that?" His head's bending.
She shoots him a death glare. She knows she's being challenging, but nothing he's offering is making the growing rapid beat in her chest subside.
"Alright, just, walk with me like nothing's going on. I'll hold it on and figure something out."
"What if it slips?" Her brow tightens.
"Just, trust me, okay?"
She swallows, and they walk. He has loosened the grip on her dress a bit, a fist low on her spine. His thumb brushes against sensitive skin with each step and she prays he doesn't let the slippery thin straps out of his fingers.
They pass one of Harvey's long-time clients close to the door, who shoots them a curious look. "Leaving early?"
"Donna's tired," Harvey offers, and she could kick him because it makes it appear that they're leaving together. Not that she has a better response but it doesn't help the mania at being close to naked in front of a client with only the trust of Harvey's fingers.
"Well, you better get the lady home then. Enjoy the night, you two." The man is wearing a too-pleased grin when they begin to walk away.
"Do you have to make it look like we're together?" she demands.
"I sort of don't have a choice right now, unless you want me to change this one."
"No. Just…" She dares a glace to her chest, examining the shifted situation she can feel. "This is slipping."
"Maybe I could find a bathroom or something? You could wrap the dress somehow." He shrugs.
"There's not a lot of fabric to work with if you hadn't noticed."
His mouth parts, then a smirk develops.
"You're enjoying this," she accuses.
"I'm… thinking of an idea." After a short pause, he motions them on with a jerk of his head.
She lets him lead through the hall into the lobby. He's heading towards hotel check-in.
"Harvey, what are we—"
"Hello. How can I help you?" asks a woman with a dark-haired bob behind the counter.
"Um, my friend here accidentally ripped her dress, is there any way we could get something for her to... cover with on the way home?"
The woman's smile fades. "You know we have rooms for exactly this reason."
"Excuse me?" Donna asks.
"I wasn't born yesterday. If you and your girlfriend want to engage in… activities in our hotel, you need to purchase a room."
Heat prickles Donna's skin, anger rising like steam in a tiny pot. "I'll have you know—"
"Look. We're very sorry." She feels a kiss planted on the side of her head. "We got carried away. Is there any way we could get a room?"
His request is more uncharacteristically polite than she's ever heard him in her life.
The corners of the clerk's frown pull in and she looks down at her screen, punching at the keys. "We have a standard single queen room available."
"We'll take it."
"Harvey," Donna warns.
"You mind reaching for my wallet?" His eyes dart south.
She huffs out air, but then feels breath tickling against her ear.
"If we get in a room, you'll be safe and we can figure out the rest later," he whispers.
She closes her eyes, not feeling very safe, and reaches into his pocket. She's not sure where they're going from here, but the idea of being out of public is appealing, minus the fact she's close to naked and she's feeling a little dizzy from his aftershave. She's careful not to venture further than needed as she searches for the feel of leather. She tries not to mentally linger on how open the fabric feels inside, like maybe it's being stretched in the front. He's not…
She decides not to expand on that thought. His card is handed over the counter and then she's signing paperwork.
"I know it's a long shot, but any chance you have ideas for late clothing delivery?" Harvey asks.
The woman doesn't respond and hands back his card and an envelope with key cards, looking between the two of them. "All the local delivery services ended an hour ago. You'll have luck in the morning. There's a robe in the room if she gets cold."
Her jaw drops at the implication and she's sucking in a breath to let out a string of words when Harvey's practically dragging her towards the elevators by the straps of her dress.
"You shouldn't have stopped me from saying something," she says.
"In case you forgot, your dress is barely holding on right now."
"She was rude."
"She thought we just banged in the hotel hallway."
As if public sex was that abhorrent under normal circumstances. Which this isn't. She's trying to avoid eye contact as people leaving the elevator are staring at them curiously.
They get in after them and she's thankful no one else is around to follow behind. She lets out a sigh.
When the doors close, she reaches to push the floor number, and the straps slip traction. "Harvey!"
"You moved quickly. Besides, no one's here."
"You're here." She turns to look at him and his eyes dart from lower to even with hers, licking his lips.
She can't even begin to address him possibly taking a peek. "I'm going to kill Ronaldo when he gets back." She shakes her head.
"Who?"
"Ronaldo, my tailor."
"He's responsible for this? Maybe he planned it. Is he here? Does he have a penchant for charities with nature themes?" He grins.
"No. I'm pretty sure I'm not his type. And he's in the Maldives."
"Then why are you killing him?"
"For being in the Maldives. Instead of here. Making sure I'm in a more sensible dress that's not going to fall to the floor with four-hundred people staring. And my colleague."
He doesn't respond at first. Perhaps referring to him only as a colleague was harsh on reflection.
Then he's staring at her, a challenge behind his eyes. "Nothing I haven't seen before, Don."
"If you're imagining me naked..." she warns.
"What, you never have? Remembered me?"
Her eyes begin to wander down, remembering the pocket incident then stops herself.
The door dings and their floor is lit up. She begins walking to avoid saying more. They pass several people before finally making it to the room. She holds the small envelope in the arm clutching her purse, and slides out the card. Then she manages to get the door open and them inside. The door closes.
It's dark so she stops to look for the switch. In the neverending cycle of no good luck for the evening, he collides with her.
And that's when a certainty of the night is confirmed. She feels something distinctively him pressing into her hip.
They freeze. He pulls back, the connection of his erection leaving. His grip must've slackened because suddenly he's reaching around her front with the opposite hand, the other gripped just above her behind. He's feeling all over the skin of her back, and she's dropping cards and purses again to hold onto the front. A chill travels the expanse of skin following the brush of his fingertips. There's enough light to see the rise and fall of his chest, and feel the hot breath coming in and out of his lips.
She could ignore the obvious and maybe she should. But her dress has slipped, and they're standing there in the dark with his arms around her and suddenly the resolve has become as precarious as the satin and she's not sure how they're getting out of either situation when so much is waiting to be revealed.
"Harvey," she decides. Because between them it should be enough.
"I know," he answers, in that petulant way of his.
"Should we...talk about it?"
"Now?" he asks, a desperation in his tone.
She sighs, deciding to let it go. "How are we getting from here to decency?"
"I could get you to the bed."
She arches a brow. "That's escalating things."
He angles his head. "I meant for you to lay on, so your dress doesn't fall more and I can find the robe."
"Can you see your way to the bed?" she challenges.
"Not really."
Neither move or speak. The unknown has them paralyzed in place.
"Donna. We're in the dark. No one's here. You have your top. I can just let go and—"
"No. Don't."
"I won't look."
"That's not what I…" She wants to scream. They knew each other perfectly and yet couldn't hold a conversation. "Are you? Still?"
"Am I what?"
She swallows. And waits. Forcing a decision. Maybe he'll deflect. Maybe with skims of fingertips and his body pressed to hers she doesn't want him to.
"Look the dress is— was —distracting before it got like this. And with us so close and your skin, the… your hair, and sorry, the visuals I just..." He shrugs. "And now we're alone here."
"So it's just that. You're only human," she clarifies with a slight tease; a challenge.
She sees his jaw shift and his face fall forward an inch. "No. Not only those things."
"Then?"
He's not quick to answer. She can feel how tense he is, as if his body is fighting with a layer of emotional armor to guard against anything leaving the confines of him. He's at war with himself, and maybe he always had been and that's why this part of him is so hard to read.
"I can't stop wanting you," he blurts out.
She falls back, her brow raising.
"More of you. Home. Work. My life. But yeah, I've wanted to get you out of this dress from the second I saw you in it."
Her bottom lip has fallen slack. Maybe to assist in breathing. Or to leave an opening for his lips her thoughts can't catch up to. Something is falling, but it's not her dress. It's an ache inside she'd been trying to hold in place so it couldn't take over again. The one that says she wants him too. Awakened with a touch of her lips to his. Silenced by his bitterness and fear.
His gaze darts to her lips and back again. "Should I?"
Her shoulders do a quick shrug and her head shakes. He's asking for permission. She's not stepping further than this. She's already nudged him when she swore she'd never do it again.
His move. His turn.
His jaw tenses as he scans her face. He swallows. His fingers of one hand tighten just below the back of her neck, making her bodice snugger. The fabric low on her back is let free, with a palm low on her spine.
Her arms slip down from her chest, giving away control of one more thing to him. He takes her in with his eyes. His face looks almost pained, then his tongue darts over his lips. He's pulling her to him, mouth finding her bottom lip. His tongue tastes a path across it. Discovering more of her mouth, he's open and needing, letting free all he'd suppressed but almost given into during their last kiss.
Her knees are instantly weak at the feel of him joining them, and she whimpers. Their mouths are seeking something they'd lost long ago, pursuing a suppressed need above the surface. What's undiscovered beneath makes her heart race to a beat her brain can't catch up to.
He must be feeling the same because he slows, breaking apart only to rest his forehead against hers. He's panting, chest rising and falling breaths that she wants to lose herself tangling her own heavy ones with. She can feel he's fighting with something still. Holding in. Afraid. In a way she's not even sure she can figure out.
The heaviness scares her. "Over already?" she teases, but regrets it when he starts to turn his head away. Her palm finds his cheek and she stills him, bringing him back to her face. "What?"
"I can't… lose you. More than I already have."
"I'm right here, Harvey."
"Are you?"
The vulnerability has her near breaking. She wants to demand how he could question it. And crumble at the thought of them always carrying their damaged fears. She knows him. Knows more about him than any other human ever will. Perhaps the depth of this man's uncertainties will never be a thing she fully grasps. Maybe the reason they'd been residing side by side for so long is about meeting strength against strength, cracks smoothed over by loyalty and well-timed candor. She'd been the place for him to fall. But never been the place for them both to rest.
Which is maybe why she's tired. Of fighting them. She rests hands on either side of his waist.
She collides with him. Feels the charge between her legs when his need for her makes contact, savors the noise that escapes his throat. His eyes have gone dark, and then he's kissing her again. Instead of hesitation, he's taking. No longer searching but hunting. Tongue tangling against hers, body pressing her backward until they hit a wall. There's a frenzied choreography to their seeking of each other. Her arms tangling around his neck, fingers trying to grasp at tiny hairs to pull them closer. His groin tries to coax pleasured sounds muffled against his mouth with each grind into her. A free hand finds her face, the swell of her hip, bunching up fabric for reasons other than preserving her modesty.
Too much clothing is in the way. She tugs his tie loose, and pulls out the tails of his shirt. His lips slip to her chin, slowing there when she tries to remove his coat. The arm looped behind her is in the way of the action, and his lips still on her neck. He pauses, maybe waiting for her to break what's about to happen but the ache between her legs isn't about to let go of the control.
He pulls back, making her startle when he flips a switch to the side of her. With this many years, she doesn't blame him for wanting to see. Then, he's watching her face when he releases the only thing holding her dress up.
She feels it fall from her body, air hitting her skin and colliding with the nerves running under it at high speed. He helps it over her hips until it's pooled around her feet. She kicks off her heels. He takes her in for only a second until he's attached to her, mouth latching collarbone, palms sliding from shoulders all the way down arms. He yanks her hips into him and a whimper escapes her throat. All doubts of him wanting her have slipped at rapid pace, and the ache building before he's even fully touched her is so strong it's almost painful. His lips taste down her chest and fingers brush the sides of her breasts.
She grips his lapel. "Harvey."
He hums, not bothering to stop his exploration. When his tongue finds a nipple she nearly folds. She needs a solid surface.
"You need to catch up." She motions over his clothed frame. "I'm not liking you with all the power."
"Oh, trust me, it's you who holds all the power right now." He holds her back steady while his other is skimming fingertips teasingly on the outside of her thigh.
She pushes on his shoulders and he pulls back. Her head tilts. "Give you an inch you take a mile, huh?"
"I've only started to take, Donna."
"You think I'm gonna fall for smooth talking?"
"I figured I'd start with what we're familiar with. And haven't we already gotten past falling?" He's grinning. Happy. In a way she doesn't usually get to see him.
Something in her shifts at the sight, covering up the heat and smothering her with everything else they are. There's more behind them than the current intense want. An undeniable risk.
He seems to read her mood, because he's forward, his hands cradling her cheeks. "Is this too fast?"
She laughs under a breath. Because fast is never something this could be. "No. But maybe you could meet my vulnerability here."
"Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Be naked."
He kisses her quickly with a smile on his lips, then pulls off his coat. She's helping him with buttons, and he peels his shirt off next. She rests fingers on his belt. Waiting. He meets her face. Then she's going forward, unbuckling and setting his pants free to his ankles. He kicks them and his shoes off.
Her focus falls to the last piece, sucking in her bottom lip, teeth dragging over it as it slips back out. He's flush with her again, mouth devouring her neck. She's pulling down his boxer briefs and he helps them off without breaking contact of his lips.
His palm scales her side, skimming over her stomach and between her legs. He groans on contact. "Fuck, Donna."
He's slipping them between her lips, beginning a motion on her clit. After several strokes, a finger slips inside. His thumb taking over. With the work of his open mouth on her pulse point, she nearly buckles.
She reaches for him, ready to return the torture and nearly groans when she feels his hard shaft. His mouth slows when she starts stroking him, resting his forehead to her chest.
"I don't think we're making it to the bed." He thrusts into her hand.
"No, I need a surface." His fingers are thrusting inside and her legs aren't cooperating.
"I'll lift you."
"There's a bed less than ten feet away."
"Fine."
Neither have time to linger on his mild complaint because he's lifting her to him, hooking under her knees until her legs circle him. He backs them to the bed, sitting so she's straddling his lap. His mouth busies itself on hers again, keeping her spinning. Hands memorizing every curve and muscle. Down her back, then using them to jerk her forward until they're flush. Breaths meeting against breaths, rising and falling of chests moving in more harmony than perhaps they ever have managed before. Synchronicity, a comfort they'd always sought but never could get the final step right.
He slows. "Shit. I forgot. I should get my wallet."
"I'm covered. As long as?" She doesn't want to linger on the thought. Too many names and too much time between them.
He shakes his head. "There hasn't been anyone else."
"Me either. Not for a while."
"So we're good?"
"More than."
He smiles, and suddenly this feels more than she'd ever been able to imagine it before. She's lifting up on her knees, needing to feel all of him. One of his hands helps, rubbing the head of his cock against her. Teasing her clit, brushing over her entrance.
"God, Donna. If you dress hadn't been ripped you would still be ruining it right now. You're so fucking wet."
A pulse from her clit is screaming for them to get moving. "If it hadn't ripped, we wouldn't be doing this. Stop stalling." There's an urgent plea in her request, since pretenses had fallen away with the reveal of nakedness.
He lets out a breathy chuckle, positioning himself. "Thank god for favors."
Then, she sinks down on him, slowly at first. His lips tuck into her neck, resting there, hot breath from him reminding her this wasn't a dream. Her head falls back in an involuntary need. Both pleasure and ache mixing together in a cycle of alleviation and need. Each down motion getting him a bit further inside, and each up making her body beg for the repeated contact.
A hand cups under her breast, lifting it to his mouth until he latches on a nipple. She pants, picking up speed, so close to the edge but still too far away. His other hand seeks between them, thumb making swipes against her clit in a perfect rhythm. She's mostly on her own making their bodies connect, but he's personally attending to her internal need. His mouth, his thumb, his cock, all swirling together with the taste of his skin, the sweep of his hair against her cheek, the sweat shared between glistening skin.
She feels the tightness coiling up. Tingled skin and centered tension all building under the work of his thumb. "Harvey…"
He sucks harder on her nipple, flicking his tongue more rapidly over the oversensitized skin. She's pushed over the edge. Tidal wave covering her up and spinning her under the current. She's lost all control and yet she's safe the entire time. Light behind her eyes from the surface of the fall; every inch of skin touched by the fullness of him surrounding every expanse of her.
When it ends she's at the shore, tangled up in his limbs with his certainty settling her back down. He kisses her, still inside, still unfulfilled himself. Palms are smoothing down her hair. His lips intensify, sucking hers between his. Her want for him has only partially subsided, and she wonders since the dam has broken if she'll ever get to a point where she could have enough.
He needs more and she can feel it with the jerks of his hips.
She breaks their kiss. "You take over."
He stares at her, hair in every direction with her at the cause, dilated pupils so dark she'd be lost in them if not for the twitch it creates between her legs. He's shifting her around, maneuvering her beneath him. He hooks a leg over each arm, then thrusts. Fills her in a single motion. The sound escaping her throat is uncontrolled and primal.
"Okay?"
She nods, fast and without sound because she needs to feel all the soreness him taking all of her creates. They're nothing more than combining bodies now, out of sync from the world in finding the unity with each other. She's scratching paths all over his back, coaxing him. Trading gasps and moans, letting all the last pieces vanish between them. He's over the edge quickly, several quick and staggered thrusts ending with him resting against her.
He rolls to the side, and she realizes they never even made it to the head of the bed, nor did they pull back the covers. He pulls her arm furthest from him, coaxing her to turn his way.
They're face to face, body to body.
She pulls in a long breath. More having just happened than she'd usually let herself fantasize about.
"Was that okay?" he asks, not letting anything suppress his grin.
She fights hers, already feeling how insufferable he his. "Obviously it was to you."
"Donna."
Right now, her name off of his lips says more than most words would. She goes for honesty. "I'm freaking out a little bit. About what this means. But it was more than okay."
He pushes a strand of hair back from her face, looking down. "Freaking out. About how we feel?"
"There's so much we haven't worked out yet."
There's a struggle behind his eyes. The same one she's seen many times before when he's not sure whether to admit something.
He fidgets, linking their fingers and staring at them. "Listen, you're everything to me." His eyes raise to her face. "And I do love you."
She sucks in a breath, forcing it out even and slow between her lips.
"And as far as how, I'm still working that out. Because I don't understand how I can feel as much for you as I do right now, and have never managed to move on it before."
"All this because I just had sex with you?" she teases, but she's not so sure if the humor reaches where it should.
"No," he answers with annoyance. "Because I want to sign my whole goddamn bonus to your tailor right now."
"I'm not sure that proves the point you think it does."
"I really love my bonuses, Donna. And what about you?"
"What about me?"
"You want to drop the act? You're not on stage."
"You know how I feel." How something she could need so badly from him is so terrifying for herself she's not sure.
"I wasn't talking about satisfaction."
"Stop."
He leans back, an impatience about him.
"I love you, Harvey. Are you satisfied?" The irritation from the admission feels an awful lot like fear with the tumbling currently happening in her chest.
"In all the ways, Donna." The grin takes over his face. "Do you need me to get you anything? Water? A towel?"
"A shower."
"Together?" he suggests.
"Could there be another way right now?"
"Nope." He sits up, offering his hand and helping pull her to stand.
She grabs the box of tissues from the nightstand to clean up. "We really do need to figure out clothes for when I leave."
"I'm not letting you out of here until at least Sunday. But can I be in charge of your outfit when we order something?"
"Oh no. You practically gave me a nip slip at least five times. My clothes aren't going to be in your hands anytime again soon."
"Good. I prefer you naked anyway." He steps closer, openly gawking with a bite of his lip.
"God, you're predictable."
"What, you have a lot of great qualities naked."
"Such as?"
His lips mash together. "No, I can't tell you that."
"Oh no, you started this." She raises a finger as a warning. "You can't not share now."
He cocks his head and shifts, an irritability to him. "Fine. For one thing, you have pretty nipples."
She nearly snorts and she has to cover her mouth. "Pretty nipples? And what makes them pretty?"
"This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you."
"And exactly why I need to hear the rest now."
"They're… Round. And… Pink. And they…"
"Yes?"
His foot stomps, body slumping with defeat. "Feel great against my tongue."
Heat rushes her face. "They do feel good with your tongue against them."
His previous discomfort seems to fade, a soft curve of his lips replacing it. "See, I knew what I was talking about."
"Harvey?"
"Yes."
"Get that cute ass of yours in the shower, and start the water."
He takes a step closer, leaning in a few inches so they're face to face. "Are you planning on telling me all the ways you think my ass is cute?"
"No." She pushes him forward. "But my hands might."
A/N's: So, um. This ended up not fully beta'd. But I have a busy week so I wanted to get it posted. This ended up changing a lot from my original premise. But hopefully it's still enjoyable? Season 8 is hard to write, since the characters' emotions are artificially paused. Ahem. Anyway, as always I'd really appreciate your thoughts if you can manage a review.
BTW, I have the best readers in the world. And really enjoy reading for my four very good friends, who also help keep me writing. Bew0G, mieh, Specter-Paulsen, and notwithhaste are all amazing writers and you should check out there work! And love on them. Writing is terrifying and vulnerable, and even harder without feedback. Thanks to mieh especially for helping me sort out a specific part. ; )