Nine

Nichola sips her wine, staring analytically at her computer screen. She's recoded this page six times, and it still doesn't look right. Annoyed, she gets up and walks a circle behind her chair. She turns the music down and tries to think. What am I missing?

Her phone rings on the desk, twitching in a small circle as it vibrates. She glances at the number and doesn't recognize it. It's a Manhattan area code, and it's definitely a cell-oh!

"Hello?"

"I've been to one restaurant and three bars, and you're nowhere to be found. What are you doing tonight?" Nichola sits back down in her chair, grinning.

"Harvey, I gave you my number so you wouldn't have to stalk me anymore." He laughs.

"For your information, I've been out for work. I just wondered if I'd run into you somewhere."

"Well, for your in formation, you won't. I've been home working all night."

"Ahh ha. Would you be interested in joining me for a drink?"

"Mmm, that does sound good but it would mean I have to get dressed. And I don't really feel like putting clothes on," she says, smirking at his silence.

"How busy are you?" His voice has dropped several steps. She reaches for her necklace, thinking.

"I need to get this done tonight, but it shouldn't take me long. Where are you?"

"Not that far." She smiles.

"Well…you're welcome to over here for a drink. Let me know when you get here and I'll come let you in."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Single-malt, right?" He laughs.

"Right." Grinning, she hangs up. She glances down at her over-sized sweat pants and her t-shirt and sighs. Well I guess I should at least put some jeans on. She takes a sip of her wine and turns back to her computer, determined to finish this page.

She works for five minutes before Harvey texts her. Smirking, she saves her code and goes to her room to change her pants for jeans and the t-shirt for a small black tank top. She runs her fingers through her hair, fixes her part, and fixes the smudge of eyeliner under her eyes.

Harvey is waiting outside, scrolling his phone aimlessly, his other hand in his pocket. Nichola smiles softly, amused by his stiff professionalism in comparison to her laid-back comfort. Always with the three piece suits.

"Hey, you." He looks up. She leans in the doorway, her keys hanging from a lanyard in her hand. A smile slowly makes its way across his face as he looks her up and down.

"You lied to me." She grins.

"Well I wasn't going to walk down here in my underwear. My building's full of night owls." He laughs and kisses her. She smiles against his lips and slips her fingers in his. "Come on."

They step inside the elevator and he pushes her into the wall. She groans softly at his hips against hers, his hands grasping her shirt. She breaks the kiss and meets his eyes, grinning at him.

"What's gotten into you?"

"It's been a bad day."

"I can work with that."

She leads him into her apartment, letting him have his way with her as they make their way to her bedroom. She deconstructs him piece by piece. His pinstriped jacket and vest fall at her feet and, lips locked, she unbuttons his shirt like an expert. She breaks the kiss to breathe for a moment. Harvey tilts her face up to meet her gaze. His brown eyes are a little glazed over, like he maybe has a drink too many in his system.

He kisses her again, pulling their hips flush. She feels a shock of electricity when her skin touches his and reaches for his belt buckle.


"Mm, okay, so if I thought I could walk, I would get up and go back to work," Nichola murmurs, eyes closed. Harvey laughs.

"Back to work already? I dunno whether to be offended or impressed." She grins and rolls onto her side.

"Well you're the reason I can hardly move, if that sways you one way or another." He smiles. She likes his smile, likes what it does to his eyes, the way it relieves the tension in his face.

"That was good, wasn't it." She nods.

"Very." Even better than last time. God, he knows what he's doing with that mouth, doesn't he? She studies his face as he looks at the ceiling, trying to figure out what's going on behind those pretty brown eyes.

Regaining some strength, Nichola sits up with a groan. She runs her hands through her hair and slides out of the bed to get her clothes. Harvey sits back against the pillows, a smug look on his face as he watches her dress. She does so slowly, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. She pulls on her underwear and tank top and leans in to kiss him slowly.

"I didn't finish before you got here, and I have to be able to post a new page at five, so I have to get this done tonight. All I need is ten minutes or so," she says, pulling back. "I believe I owe you a drink?"

"I'll get it," he says, getting up. She nods.

"Mmkay. Drinks are on the table by the fridge. There are glasses on the self over the sink," she says, leading him from the room. She finds her glass next to her computer and sits down in her chair. She types quickly, sure she's about to set a record in code-writing.

Harvey pours his drink and watches her from the kitchen. Her desk is situated in front of the large living room window, at the end of a white L-shaped couch. She types furiously on the Macbook, her back to him, her legs folded in the chair. He takes a deep breath and a large sip of whiskey, directing is attention to anything else he can find.

Her apartment is an odd collection of vintage and modern. It's a little haphazard, a little messy. Sleek, clean lines in white and stainless steel are cluttered with her everyday mess and what were, at some point, matching décor in purple and teal. Where Nichola is always perfectly presentable, even when she's casual, the apartment is everything she doesn't present to the rest of the world.

He notices a lot of empty magnets on her refrigerator. There are a few pictures of her with Lauren, a few with other girls. The picture at the top catches his eye. Nichola looks like a kid. She stands on the beach with her arms around Mike-who looks exactly the same as he does now. There's a Smirnoff bottle in her hand that she can't possibly be old enough for, a surfboard at her feet, and she grins from ear to ear.

"You surf?" he asks, turning to her. She laughs.

"Yeah." A word that answers one question and asks so many more. He decides to start with the one that's become bigger and bigger the more time he spends with her.

"How did you end up friends with Mike?" he asks, sitting on the couch a foot from her desk.

"I met Mike the day I moved here, actually," she answers without looking up or slowing down. "We lived in the same apartment building for a couple years. The picture on my fridge is from that first summer, actually. It's pretty old. And no, Mike doesn't surf."

"Ah." He glances at her computer screen. She types the codes seamlessly, as if she were writing an email. His eyes find the record player on a table on the other side of the desk. Huh.

"Do you actually use the record player?"

"Yep. My collection's not very big but I use it a lot." He nods. She finishes typing with two ceremonial taps of the return button and hits save.

"Oh, shit," she mumbles. "Damn i-oh, there we go. Okay. Done." She closes the computer and smiles at him.

"Apparently I didn't need ten minutes after all," she says with a shrug, reaching for her wine. She takes a sip and looks back up at him. "What were you doing barhopping for work?" she asks as if the thought just hit her.

"I had a few different meetings." She nods.

"Your clients more agreeable after a few drinks?" He smiles.

"Usually." She smirks. He can tell she holds a little bit of contempt for his job. He can only imagine it's thanks to that ass of a lawyer Donovan.

"But you said today was bad?" He hesitates, thinking over his answer. "Sorry. I know we said-if you don't wanna get into all the personal stuff-"

"No, it's okay, it's not that," he says, shaking his head. "I'm just trying to think-how much has the economy affected your business the last few years?"

"Not at all. The internet is probably the only place that didn't get hit. The value of my stocks dropped a little but I've almost made it all back." He nods.

"Okay, well, not all of my clients fared so well." She nods. "And companies who aren't my clients aren't exactly looking to pay a thousand dollars an hour for representation, no matter how badly they need it." Nichola chokes on her wine.

"I'm sorry," she says at the concern on his face. "You bill a thousand dollars an hour?" He nods. There's a hint of self-satisfaction in his smile.

"Jesus Christ, I should really reconsider my career path." He laughs. "No wonder Mike wants to be a lawyer so bad. Wow. Anyways, yeah, no one wants to spend that kind of money, I get that. So what, people like you are having trouble finding new business, right?"

"Essentially, yeah."

"And your client wooing didn't go very well tonight?"

"Not really, no." She offers him a sympathetic smile.

"Sorry."

"I'm not exactly hurting for business. It's just nice when things go my way." She smirks.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"At least something's gone my way tonight," he says, eyes twinkling as the corner of his mouth tucks slowly into a smile. She tilts her head to the side, cocking an eyebrow.

"Oh, yeah? And what might that be?" He laughs and reaches out for her. Grinning, Nichola sets her glass on the corner of the desk and gets up to deposit herself in his lap. Her lips meet his softly, gradually applying pressure until he opens his mouth and lets her in. She wraps her arms around his neck, playing with the back of his hair as her heart begins to beat a little faster.

One kiss and it's like someone flipped a switch. She's never met anyone who could turn her on so completely so fast. There's just something inherently sexual about him she can't help herself.

He pulls her close and she unwraps her arms, letting her hands slide down his bare chest. His skin is hot under her fingers. She presses her palms to his chest, feeling it rise and fall against her. He pulls her tank top over her head and kisses the soft skin of her chest as she hums softly in appreciation.

Hands gripping her ribs almost to the point of pain, he lifts her up and lays her down the length of the couch. He slides his hands under her back and she raises her arms over her head as he kisses her hard. Her chest pressed to his, she feels like her heart is going to be right out of it. All she can hear is the blood pounding in her ears and her own heavy breathing. All she can feel are his lips on hers, his skin against hers.