Too Many Times

Suits / Donna x Harvey (darvey)

Chapter 10 – I love to hold you close, tonight and always

I'm seeing the pain, seeing the pleasure

Nobody but you, 'body but me

'Body but us, bodies together

I love to hold you close, tonight and always

I love to wake up next to you

Pillowtalk – Zayn

They'd climbed on board this highway train to nowhere; a high speed engine where they'd been losing their fears in each other's arms. The tighter the space, the more fearsome he'd felt. But he'd been wrong, they were millions of miles apart and their insecurities had been blown out of proportion. Fucking to love and loving to fuck – without addressing the in-between.

I can't rewind thirteen years in one sentence.

There was no other way to encapsulate years of struggle with his heart's desire. So dirty and raw like the love they'd made. A light and dark love embodied in their relationship, ruled by his constant need of her – care, advice, adoration and constant presence. A war zone he'd never wanted to get out of until now.

His feet had trouble dragging him back to Earth and reality. But he needed answers from her too. Her running away couldn't be a rational one.

He'd kept calm at first, stroking his upper-left-arm; it felt cold to the touch and it didn't pain him to wish he were having a heart attack.

Was it the wooden house that felt stone-cold? The weather had been getting warmer with each passing day and he should have thought about opening those windows to let the air in. He hadn't cleaned the house either. He hadn't done all the things he'd been doing before. He hadn't taken care of himself. Why were the lights turned off? He'd left his mind, his old self wandering the rooms of his new self.

He went to the bedroom and saw that she'd packed her things and that the keys were gone. Harvey rushed back out of the house, ran to the street and only saw his pickup. He walked back to the house, head low and as soon as he reached the threshold, he closed the door with a loud bang.

Would it have made any difference had he been holding her? Or would she have run back here, packed her suitcase, grabbed the Mustang keys and left anyway?

He roared at the empty space, tossing everything in his path: chairs, food, and cutlery – filling his body with tears that were too heat-sensitive to cry. He tried calling her. And heard nothing but a dead-end ringtone until his hand went out of control and sound of a device being shattered to pieces against a wall hit his ears. He screamed some more, speeding up against that wall and hit it repeatedly. The translucent amber was gone from his eyes and he was hurting himself as if he were a punching ball. He had trouble breathing, shouting in agony – the tears bleeding off his hands red. Red tears of guilt, hatred and self-loathing in two angry fists. The sight of blood was the only thing capable of stopping him. The pain would have never been enough.

He went to the sink, opened the tap and kept his fists closed under the faucet, slowing down his erratic lungs. The beating in his chest started pumping back to his brain and he felt dizzy with ideas, thoughts and lack of them within seconds. He went to pick up his phone and noticed the screen and other parts broken beyond repair. He got off that train – the illusion of a mended relationship, fell to the ground and remembered why he'd never told her in the first place. He'd fucked up. All of it.

You feel guilty over something and I can't figure out what it is.

He'd never been ready for the better part of his adult life. She'd told Rachel that. He wasn't ready to be in a relationship with her then; so how could he be now? She'd reminded herself to forget on multiple times. Forget her deepest and greatest expectation: that he'd been in love with her somehow. Even if it'd been irregularly and even if that love of his had been on hold at times. Hearing him say it had been so different from the ever-present thought in her head. Panicking and running off hadn't simply been a reaction to his words but a consequence of the inability to form coherent words herself. He'd opened up his heart and the biggest wound of all; preventing any further scarring.

She couldn't keep her mind off the image of him answering her with such vulnerability. Packing her things hastily, she'd grabbed the first keys she'd found – feeling them in hand. She hung onto them as if she were taking a part of him; a symbol of departure and an exit she had no choice but to go for. The car that didn't have a remote keyless system was the last physical contact she would get from him.

She drove to Boston and stopped at South station. She bought a one-way ticket to New York, waited till 4:34 PM on the platform but didn't get on it. She waited some more in the waiting area, checked her phone for calls. One missed call from him and texts from Robert she had no intention of going through.

Even though she had no idea what she would say, she called him.

One second and it was over. She called incessantly only to end up on his voicemail each time. She felt strange, alone, guilty and embarrassed for reasons that escaped her as her mind was too focused on a series of words that meant the world to her. On her way back to New York City physically for the first time since she'd found him, Donna felt unprepared; no matter which side her feet would drag her back to next.

She bought another ticket for 5:38, got on the train and then off it before it could take her anywhere. Donna considered the fact that she should have gone to the airport instead. There was no way in hell the flight attendants would have allowed her off a plane.

He hadn't called her back. She was crying by 6:00PM, doubts forming in the shape of strangers – as if he were there trying to stop her from leaving. But he hadn't gone after her and it killed her inside. It certainly didn't stop her from buying another ticket as if Amtrak needed her money to survive another fiscal year. She couldn't even think about getting a refund on the trips she hadn't taken. She bought a bottle of water and a Mars bar. But nothing could get past her lips.

The train was leaving in 30 minutes and the only reason for her to stay hadn't shown up, neither swept her off her feet nor tell her everything would be okay. Sometimes he seemed to be right there in front of her but these men were wearing suits on a Sunday. It was all in her head and the most disturbing hallucination of all. He was everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

Only then did she see the big picture instead of trains and tracks leading to everywhere but where she was supposed to go. All the lies and truths between them had been on a collision course. Every aching void taking form frantically in her brain.

She'd been shaking her legs, thinking about Lower Vine Brook with him maybe waiting for her to come back. She saw a young couple hug before stepping on the train again. They kissed, said goodbye to each other. Donna's eyes shot open as she read an all too famous three-little-word exchange on their lips that ripped her heart out.

The crash was wearing off and it didn't feel right.

There was something telling him to go to the Flare and spend time with his brother and the rest of the gang. Find a solution in conversation rather than heavy drinking. He'd been staring aimlessly at the front door, wondering how he could turn this around without giving his body instructions like taking a car ride around town or straight to Boston to look for her at the airport or train stations. He never cared once about the fact that she'd stolen his car. He wanted to drink to failure – failure at the way he'd given his all to her.

He recalled a moment she'd looked at him. A never ending plunge into his own darkness. And forever in her eyes, he would be searching for this life.

His heart and gaze were in a moment, stuck and alien to the inexistence he'd felt for hours. Tired of hoping she'd come back and already tired of a life without her. Harvey had no intention of bracing himself for the next fall. He'd left her once before after all.

He expected the sound of a car roaring nearby. But nothing came. No engine stopped but the one inside of him. Until he realized his legs had been walking of their own accord outside his enclosed space. Somewhere he didn't want to be and far from that Ceylon tree and the wilderness he'd come to love again.

Surrounded by the twisted tales in his head for several miles with the night sky falling all around him, Harvey opened what he thought was a closed door. As he walked to order some MaCallan at the only place that served it in the area, a familiar figure closed on him.

She'd stopped by his place and his car was still here but no sight of him. She waited another hour to see if he would show. It was just her, this house and the Ceylon tree. She'd taken a turn around the neighborhood without success. She checked her phone and tried calling him again. She went to his mother's but no one answered. There was only one place she could head to for information; the bar that they were supposed to go to – as a couple meeting other couples for drinks. Life was so simple five hours ago.

She parked her car and turned the GPS on her smartphone off. The Flare was dozens of voices louder than the music that was playing. Boston sports teams' logos, signed uniforms and televisions were plastered all over the walls. She had a good feeling about this place. She saw Marcus wind his way through tipsy customers to order drinks.

"Marcus!" She rushed to the bar.

He turned around: "Hey, Donna! Glad you guys could make it."

"Hey, Gosh you look so pretty." Daphne hurried up beside the redhead, followed by Fred and Katie.

"Where's Harvey?" No introduction was necessary.

"I thought he was with you?" Marcus looked behind Donna but saw no one.

"Did something happen?" Katie's words stung Donna back into frantic mode.

"He wasn't home; he wasn't anywhere and I need to talk to him. I–"

"Calm down, Donna. Take a deep breath." Fred joined in the conversation.

Daphne placed a soothing hand on Donna's shoulder: "Honey, I'm sorry but we were waiting for you both. He hasn't shown up."

"What did he do this time?" Marcus closed his fist in anger. Donna noticed how similar the two brothers could be.

"Nothing, it's all me this time," Donna explained. "Just… just tell me where he could be."

"Do you know?" Katie asked Marcus.

"I have no clue where he is."

Donna sensed Fred was studying her. "I think I know where he might be."

The worried look on his face told her she had to hurry.

Sophie leaned on the bar, the nape of her neck exposed and her protruding mounds almost sticking out over her dress. The low-cut neckline was a sight for the bartender's sore eye.

"Get me another shot and this man right here another of what he's having."

"What do you want Sophie?" Harvey brought his drink to his lips.

"Hey, Stranger!" Sophie licked her lips, sensually. "Where's the girlfriend?"

"Far." He drank half of the glass and set it back on the coaster.

"You know what Gary?" Sophie called the bartender back. "Give us a whole bottle of whisky."

Harvey didn't have it in him to protest. He didn't know how much he needed to drown his fucking sorrow.

"Did you guys have a fight?" She was all too cheerful for his taste. But whatever her intentions, he couldn't blame her for asking.

"This doesn't concern you."

"It's okay. I don't mind staring at you all night long if I have to." She bent over slightly, to grab a bowl of peanuts, trying to give him a good view of her ass.

"Do you always steal food?" Harvey noticed her movement but prevented his animal instinct to kick in and watch.

"Gary knows I like to get some things… free of charge." She wasn't even hiding her intentions anymore. "I can give you some if you want."

Donna pushed the doors of the Zone open – a cheap-looking excuse of a nightclub to drink and bang according to Fred. Fake wooden walls with vivid spotlights darkened and dazzled her vision at the same time. Laughter and screams clouded her ears. She examined the room, searching for a face she didn't hope to see. Women twiddling their hair at pissed off dudes, standing drinkers on the dancefloor trying to fondle women twenty-years their junior, drinking games gone wrong, pint glasses, cocktails, someone crying in a corner, couples secluded near the bathroom and moans escaping too many of them for her to feel at ease. She tightened her grip on her shoulder bag.

Her eyes eventually set on a familiar whisky bottle and unexpected shot glasses. She recognized his signature V-neck long sleeve black t-shirt and sighed in relief even though she knew he would be drinking his way out of this. It was her mistake, not his. She realized there were muscles under that shirt of his. Her excitement vanished when she noticed a woman's hand resting on his upper-arm.

"Not interested." He looked away but she grabbed his arm, forcing him to switch position on the bar stool.

"Okay, let's talk then." Sophie gave him a sultry look that meant her leading the conversation was the least of his problems.

"I want to be alone." He finished his drink.

"That's what you said the last time. And I think you and I both know we have unfinished business."

He rose up and sighed: "Get the fuck out of my way."

"So what do I have to do?" She put her hand at the junction of his pants; eager fingers slid down over the denim and kneaded his crotch greedily. "Jerk off your memory?"

"Get off me." He violently pushed her hand away.

"Hi, Sophie," Donna cut in and let her man's name fall from her lips. "Harvey…"

She walked between them and graced him and his front with her back protectively.

"Look what the cat dragged in! The needy one," Sophie let out.

"Harvey and I need to talk, Sophie. If you don't mind of course…" The tall redhead had decided to take things into her hands and to keep her cool for as long as possible.

Harvey was too stunned to speak and his Adam's apple jumped when elegance personified had come to his rescue.

"You know I sucked his cock, right?"

"And exactly how do you think that is going to stop me from laughing at your sorry self?" Donna locked cautionary eyes on the other woman.

"From the looks of it, you weren't able to keep him satisfied."

"Is crotch grabbing all that takes?" Donna felt a surge of electricity coursing through her. She stared the woman down and not even once allowing herself to blink. This bitch deserved all sorts of evil entities chasing after her. And the former secretary was eager to give her a good look at who she would lose against. "And knowing him, he's going to lose his cool if I keep this conversation going for too long."

"He was doing fine without you so far," Harvey huffed, moved to face the counter between the two women but was cut off by Donna.

"Honey… Allow me."

"Honey?" He quirked a brow and within seconds, she pressed herself against him, her hand finding the nape of his neck. She yanked the V of his shirt with her other one and brought his head down to hers. His eyes shot open as her soft salty lips lured his into an all too ardent temptation. Lock picking her way through the inside of his mouth had her feeling like she was the only woman in the room. He stood wobbly-legged, a growing desire to get to know her again – gradually losing his breath. He never sensed that he was over-exerting himself thrusting his tongue into her forced entry, eagerly colliding against her teeth and caressing her language every chance he got. She moved her hand to his hair as her tongue cooled off remnants of whisky replacing the taste with her own. He moaned into her mouth and his arms fell to her waist. He pulled her as close to him as he could.

She left his mouth slowly to catch a much needed breath, a thin line of saliva standing between their lips. She opened her eyes and said, panting against him: "Hey."

"Hey." He kept his closed, swaying her to his own rhythm.

Never breaking physical contact, she turned her head to meet Sophie's displeased figure.

"Like he said, he's not interested. So get the fuck out of here before I punch those tits of yours back into your ribcage."

Sophie left the scene of the crime accepting the evidence in front of her.

"Well, crotch-grabbing definitely gets you in a mood. She had no idea who she was going up against for sure." Harvey nudged his nose against Donna's.

"Her hands were too small to begin with." She said feeling him trail kisses along her jaw.

"I thought I had lost you." He nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck.

"I'm sorry." She brought her arms back around his neck and forced herself not to burst into tears again.

"Let's get out of here. Shall we?" He was beaming as he let go of her frame and extended his arm to take her outside.

She nodded – confidence having left her eyes and, holding on to his face for emotional support, she accepted his arm.

"Did you walk here?"

"I did. Took me over an hour."

"Did you call that guy about the painting?" She stroked his arm pensively.

"No." He noticed his car parked outside and led her to it. He addressed the car with a paternalistic tone: "Glad to see you're back too."

"You have to." Their initial and yet short conversation was still on her mind.

"Don't we have more pressing things to talk about?" Standing in front of the driver's door, he extended his hand out to her. "Keys?"

"How many drinks have you had?"

"Not enough." He clenched his fist like a based-on-reflex therapy.

"Are you taking me home?" The pronoun and word had escaped her – improvised for her and dangling meaning in front of him.

"Home has a nice ring to it coming out of your mouth." His smirk told her that improvisation had worked against her.

She took the keys out of her pocket and tossed them at him. They got into the car and he drove out of the parking lot and onto the full moon road.

Blocks and minutes had gone by. Donna felt Harvey grab her left hand.

The redhead cleared her throat. "Sorry about stealing your car."

"You came back."

"I did." She looked at their hands. "I tried calling you."

"I broke my phone. Why did you leave?" He gripped the steering wheel tightly.

"Is that so? I can still ask you the same thing."

"Are we gonna keep having two conversations at the same time?" His hand left hers, leaving unwanted chills.

"Watch the road." It was probably uncalled for but she missed the contact of his skin against hers. She noticed his knuckles were bruised but said nothing of it.

"How did you find me?" He checked the rearview mirror to his left.

"I went to look for you at the Flare and Fred told me where you could be." The woods to her right were touched by the vivid light of the full moon. This was the other side of Lower Vine Brook. They weren't far from suburbia. She had never felt so far from home.

"I'm glad he did." He sped up, feeling reinvigorated.

"I really didn't know what I would be walking in on." She shuddered at the thought of him with another woman. He didn't owe her anything but she couldn't get the sight of Sophie out of her mind.

"Donna…" He looked away from the road to treasure her in a quick look. "I would have never–"

"I'm in love with you too," she cut him off, staring down at her entwined fingers. She looked over the dashboard and saw a deer crossing the road and yelled his name.

His transfixed orbs left her outline, saw the animal speeding up out of his way and felt his limb move without him. Tires scratched and the wheel turned right, bringing the car out of the road and onto the soft shoulder fast. The car eventually came to a halt between the road and lines of trees.

They both caught the breath they'd been holding.

"Are you okay?" he asked, foot glued to the brakes. He took his seatbelt off to check on her.

"I think I am." It had been a close call. She was shaking.

"You told me to watch the road… I'm… I'm..."

"It's okay. I'm okay." She watched him unfasten her seatbelt and wrap her upper frame in his arms.

She tilted her head back and cupped his cheek. "And you?"

"I'm more than okay." He ran a hand through her hair with the brightest look in his eyes to date. "You just said you were in love with me too."

"I can't stay here, Harvey." He felt her thumb caress his scruff, drawing and leaving tears in its path.

He yanked his hand away and got out of the car hastily. He walked deep into the woods, feeling the trees caving in on him like the walls of his old office. Flashes of her at her cubicle, never trespassing enough to make him feel the pain he was feeling now. Rays of light weren't blinding him enough to forget on this anxious path away from her.

She followed him into the woods and called after him. "My life's in New York! I can't just stay here and leave it all behind."

But he kept walking deeper into the wilderness. The full moon illuminating the back of his hair, creating soothing lines she couldn't reach out to anymore.

"This isn't how I'd planned any of this." She was getting further away from him in her mind but her feet never complied with it. "Harvey!"

"And how exactly did you think this would go?" He stopped before a cedar tree, crouched and sat against its trunk. "That you and I wouldn't sleep together? Struggle to say all the things we've been meaning to say for years only to have you run back to New York the second things got too real?"

She'd caught up to him by then, standing only a few feet away. "You have to help me here, Harvey."

"I don't want to help you. I want you to stay with me." He kept staring in the distance – coaxing the trees with his eyes to get some form of answer.

"Look at me, Harvey!" The words had the desired effect. He switched his gaze back to her. "You know I want to stay with you. But this isn't my life." She moved to stand next to him. "And maybe this is yours but–"

"You don't want to be a part of it." He interrupted her softly.

"I want you to be the part of my life I wake up to every morning, spend most of my day with and go to bed next to at night. But I feel like we've been dancing in the dark for two days; and our problem seems to be work-related."

"Just like it used to be," he sighed.

"Yes." She wanted to scream until she saw him extend his hand for her to sit next to him. He silently asked her to join her between his legs so that she could rest her back against him. She dropped her bag on the side.

Donna took the time to observe his hands that were securing her against him and asked: "What happened to your hands?"

"I thought you were gone for good." He didn't remove his hands from view.

"It isn't in my blood to leave you." She caressed his bluish knuckles with her fingertips.

"Are you saying it's in mine?" He countered. She felt him stiffen behind her like a rock.

"I'm saying now you know I need you. You have no reason to be gone." She opened her bag and took the bottle of water she had bought earlier. She could sense they hurt; she offered to wash them.

"I prefer whisky, you know?"

"Press your palms together." He sighed and obeyed. She began pouring water on them and heard him wince.

"Rub them together under the water." Donna poured some more and he allowed the cool water to cleanse them, inside and out. She took his hands and checked their state, paying attention to every detail in the same way she used to straighten his tie or neatly coif his hair. She closed the bottle and tossed it aside.

He felt her lean into him more – her own substance adjusting to his.

"Then why do you have to be?" His constricted chest relaxed against her back, thankful in thought at the way she'd taken care of him; again and for old times' sake.

"Because going back there isn't leaving you."

He breathed in loud into her neck, the smell of red hair burning his nostrils and dropped a kiss that made her close her eyes. A tear he couldn't see escaped her right eye and cascaded over her cheek.

"I know." He rested his cheek against her temple.

"Harvey?" She gulped and her eyes shot right into the distance, fixated on the certainty of trees – standing proud and tall around them.

"Yes?" His name already felt like goodbye on her lips.

"I want you to hold me."

"I'm already holding–" She interrupted his next words by lifting her sweater up a little above her navel and placed his left hand against it. He crooked his head, brow furrowed to see what she was doing. Her fingers began to shake working the button of her jeans. He stopped her movement. He understood. She didn't have to keep going. His other hand left hers and he loosened the button and slid the zipper down slowly. He moved his hand and skimmed his knuckles against her inner-thighs, delaying stimulation.

She gave his mouth better access to her neck and felt his breath tickle her skin. His fingers stroked the area between her thighs and groin above her pants at a glacial pace. Her breathing grew stronger, shutting her eyes and the premise of arousal while producing an uncontrollable wriggle of her butt. He closed his eyes feeling her cheeks press together against his groin.

All of this felt strange. She couldn't waste a minute without him. She was asking him to be with her one last time. She was unable to see him and yet no doubt swirled in her mind as to who she was with; Harvey was the man she could always fall back on. Too many times she'd felt like she was getting tired and old. Slices and cuts of their previous life together were flashing before her eyes, compromising her final decision. She wondered if she wanted to open his eyes so much that she had forgotten to open her own.

"Is this why you wanted my hands clean?" A smirk formed against her ear. He rested his hand at the intersection between her skin and the hem of her lace.

"If I'd said 'I want you to touch me', what would you have said?"

"I'd have said 'say it again'." His deep and husky voice had her clit throb urgently.

"I want you to touch me."

"Open your eyes then," he breathed, placing his hand over the covered mound. Four joined fingers established hold on the fabric, tugging, folding it up and clinging to it. Her inner walls were still protecting the wetness underneath. He felt her cheeks warm up against his scruff –irritation and heat all too real.

"The freckles have to stay," he let out, kissing her cheek.

"They can't leave." She gripped each of his legs for support. She felt her arousal swell in her clit, in her guts and through his groin. The seconds passed of fingers rubbing her covered slit, stretching the fabric and making the muscles of her core flex.

She spread her legs further, the junction of her pants creating an unpleasant friction against his sore knuckles. He groaned, pulled his hand out and sought the comfort of silk, curls and skin under the hem of her panties. Two days sent them insane into the mechanics of pleasure, forgetting why love was so hard from the start.

She held her breath when she felt his first strokes against her, his fingers parting her before easing his middle finger in a comfortable up and down rhythm. She panted at the touch, body writhing and ass zigzagging against his groin. Rewired and salvaged, she wished he could find that shortcut back to her. She hoped the fingers roaming over her were part of that alternative route.

His other hand reached her bra and he started to fondle one of her breasts through the soft material. He sucked an earlobe and pulled a cup down under her breast, creating a temporary shelf for him to freely grasp hold of the nipple. He pulled the hard flesh between two fingers. She moaned long and low, arching, jolting forward and wanting more.

In spite of the bones and joints of his hand hurting, he kept alternating motions over her clit, lubricating his barely inserted middle finger from her opening as he went. The tightness of her jeans was a punishment but he felt himself hard at being jailed by her, tortured by her apparel and trapped inside.

She didn't think she'd ever been able to stimulate herself – thinking of him – the way he was making her feel right this very moment.

He could feel her let go and sensed she wanted to take her pants off. Leaving her core and breast, he helped her get rid of them, panties reaching down to her knees. Legs still parted, she bent her knees slightly and jutted her pubis forward. He slipped his middle finger inside of her first and built a slow rhythm trying to hit her G-spot. She was this religion coaxing him into atoning for his sin.

He remained still for a moment, enjoying the feel of her around his roughened and callused finger. The animals could be prowling around, he didn't care. He'd found his mate in the city of dichotomies, Beaux-Arts meets Art-Deco, meets Modern and International styles. Exhilarating, exhausting and inspiring was this postmodern tale of two souls trying to make the most of their century on this Earth. Too afraid the outside world would've consumed them, he'd forgotten who he was. Work, city life; he didn't know if it could be him again, feeling too enraptured by the beautiful world she was to soil her back into his broken one. The hand gesture soon followed as he inserted his ring finger. He panted against her neck, inner-walls closing in on his come hither motion; palm sometimes facing upwards and sometimes resting on her pubic bone for support as if indecision could delay the inevitable.

He rested his head on her other shoulder and parted her hair to the side. "Move against me."

She wanted to yell for him to come back to her. But she couldn't force this choice on him. She twisted and turned on her spot. The rhythmic build-up between her legs disappeared as she insinuatingly reached for his pants. He yanked her hand away, forbidding her from proceeding and placed it back on his thigh.

"Move," he groaned, fingering her again.

She'd felt him grow to his hardest point but couldn't free him in return. She'd kept writhing against him, hoping he would get some release too.

He'd slip away and come back stronger with every meeting thrust. She'd kept her eyes open, head resting against the crook of his neck, slipping down his shoulder only to move back up. Unsteady and supported at the same time, she couldn't have asked more from him. He'd resigned himself to jerking his aching cock to the harsh pounding her backside was causing him.

This was their story, telling her what to do, asking her not to leave and her enabling him, feeling the slow motion of their life take a step back and culminating in a standalone realization. She was about to lose her fears one more time, fucking his remaining finger sensually only for the woods to see.

"I love you… Harvey."

He just kept thrusting his vibrating middle finger in and out until her moans took on a desperate tone. He let go of her and wet buzzing fingers began working her clit, the circular motion sending her over the edge – and had her lose the fear she had. Language was replaced by pure unadulterated bliss.

He didn't need one last gift from her. He'd wanted to be it from the moment he'd met her and make this go on forever. Thanking her for loving him all those years. He'd erased the rules of mutual pleasure because he never wanted to stop feeling her against his control. He would keep the residuals of her orgasm under a tree, dirt and bark having soiled and bruised his backside, repairing his connection to earth. The setting was paradise compared to having to live with the memory of it all. She was already gone, far into the New York City skyline, skyscrapers inviting her back in and shielding her from view.

"I love you too."

His own release soaked through his boxers and pants and yet it could have never cast a shadow over hers. It was all he could see. Her being his, writhing forever in his arms; holding her close and bodies together no matter the barriers, no matter the distance.

His mouth was burning against her skin. Hot breath riffled the hair nape of her neck, soothing her erratic one.

Lessening her grip on his thighs, she wanted to fight the invisible hand applying pressure around her neck. His fingertips stroked her stomach; the shared guilt resting in his hand was an unforgettable sight to behold. The tight throat feeling she couldn't help but feel responsible for subsided in the end.

"What now?" She repositioned her bra cup and straightened her sweater.

"I'll drive you to Boston." He stroked her shoulders and watched her get back on her feet. She pulled her panties and pants up.

"You're not getting out of that car with those pants."

"I have no intention of getting out the car, Donna." His words hurt her more than she thought they would. "I just can't."

"I know." She sighed and picked up her shoulder bag, leaving the bottle behind and all forms of cleansing and mending gone with it.

He straightened himself back up too and followed her to the car.

Driving to Boston he realized they'd broken up. Her saying nothing during the car ride, him never once looking at her – none of it felt like a trip to freedom. Moments passed and the release of before became an unstable memory; an all too bitter goodbye and a desired dramatic turn of events. He felt old and tired. Afraid to be alone again with the one who got away by his side, he realized he'd been hers. He was feeling what she'd felt with the decency to let him know head on. Neither racing against time nor contemplating detours, he just drove – drove her away from him.

How a firm built a family he understood. The kiss she'd given him on the forehead before taking her suitcase, he'd felt deeply. He couldn't have handled another kiss on the mouth. He couldn't have handled words spoken to him. They could have been together from the start. They could have built a family. He could have given her everything but had focused on his other one instead. Finding ways to forget her, dating women to incite self-worth knowing deep down none of them could compete. Every time he had to get her back and despite how long it took, she'd indulged him. He just never thought he'd managed to lose her to her job.

He watched her – fiery red and dreamlike figure – disappear behind automatic doors and wondered if he'd traveled back to a time when he'd asked her to come and work for him vowing never to mention their other time. The tears in his eyes told him this was how she'd felt that day. Pain, anger and disappointment at seeing him prioritize his need over hers; only without the promise of working side by side, a ritual and the perspective of years to hope for things to change for the better.

TMT

TMT

TMT

Well, I guess that was the chapter. Can't lie here, I really struggled with it. Alternateshadesofblue was my rock through this. Her input and words really made me feel more confident about it. I understand that Suits isn't an HBO, Showtime or STARZ show but this is how I wanted to tell this part of the story. This chapter left me on the fence and I sort of hope it does that to you too. The whole point is to feel undone. Chapter 11 coming soon.

Don't forget to show me some review love (or disapproval if this threw you off which I would understand completely).