Note: I'm blown away by all of your kind words, truly, thank you so much! I hope you enjoy this next bit.
*Please note this chapter has an M rating*
Heather and Alyssa, I owe you everything as usual, thank you for being the best betas and for your constant support every hour of the day. Thank you also to Jaime and Marie for your never-ending encouragement and faith in me.
Please let me know what you think! :)
-day one-
Donna can't sleep.
Tossing and turning for the better part of an hour, she gives in, props up against the headboard and attempts to bury herself in her latest novel.
It doesn't work.
She doesn't know what snapped inside her, what led to the expulsion of complete and total honesty about Harvey, their relationship, and lack thereof.
It's been a long time coming.
Something about that morning, his carefree attitude and the ghost of the past in the heart of the present. Casual, suave, like twelve and a half years had not passed at all. Like they've always been here. Except they haven't.
And why not, exactly?
For once she wasn't afraid — just tired. Tired of wanting. Tired of waiting.
A quiet laugh escapes her. So what does she do? Agree to keep ignoring the tension. Not how they usually do it — not by omission. This time, through forbiddance. An acknowledgment coupled with a silent dare. They are so close to the edge of that invisible line that the smallest breath will knock them over. Into each other. Into what she always knew they could be.
And she's ready.
And, despite never fully answering her question in favor of more innuendo — she knows he's ready, too.
She knows Harvey, better than anyone else; better than he knows himself if she's being honest. And he is finally right there with her. All he needs is an extra push.
Donna closes her book with a smile.
She's going to have some fun.
—
Choosing an outfit proves difficult. She never deliberates over a dress — not even for a date. She always knows what she wants.
Donna makes it a point to look good every day; to look professional, to be taken seriously.
Rarely does she stop to consider the other... effects of her clothing choices.
She runs through her closet, considers her options.
Low back would be nice, she muses as she thumbs the black straps of her bridesmaid gown. She remembers the way his hands felt pressed against her skin, stroking her bare shoulders, skirting down her spine towards —
Nope. Definitely not. This is supposed to affect Harvey, not her.
She sweeps through the rack — too low, too high, not enough skin, too much leg — before she stops at emerald green silk and smiles something positively wicked.
It's long-sleeved, but appropriate for the season, and therefore will not distract from the prize — the open slit running down the chest.
She's not blind; she's caught him with his eyes in her cleavage far too often. This will do enough without giving away the fun.
And fun it is, she grins as she pulls her t-shirt over her head.
—
Donna steps off the elevator with more confidence than she's felt in weeks. Because she has him. She knows she does.
Until she rounds the corner, and fuck.
Harvey's back is turned, but she'd recognize that suit anywhere. That's the gray, three-piece Tom Ford that hugs his —
She closes her eyes to clear her head. No. Bad move.
Donna suddenly wishes she wore a thicker bra, instead of the black lace that will give Harvey a very clear picture of just what that suit does to her.
And he knows. God damn him, of course he does. It's not like she's so subtle, either.
But she has work to do, and she is determined to retain the upper hand.
She smooths her dress as she pushes open the door to his office. He turns around and his eyes immediately darken. They zero in like a bullseye on her chest.
Jackpot.
"Harvey, Louis says he's running late this morning and needs you to handle Kessler." Tight-lipped smile, she leans forward on his desk, granting him a clear view. "Can you do that?"
His jaw flexes, and it takes everything in her power not to look down.
Because the second she does, she's lost.
He's not speaking, still honed in on her breasts. Donna clears her throat to mask her laughter.
"Harvey?"
"Yes," he says slowly, the low timbre shooting straight to her core. "I can do that."
She straightens. Runs a hand down her hip, under the guise of smoothing the fabric.
"Conference room C," she tosses over her shoulder as she leaves, an extra sway to her hips.
She knows he's looking. She's Donna.
—
The meeting with Thomas Kessler tests Harvey's patience.
He thought he had her. There was no doubt in his mind as he got dressed this morning, in the grey suit he's seen her ogle on more than one occasion. His first win at the D.A.'s office with her on his desk. Their first Pearson Hardman holiday party, her gaze heavy after one too many martinis. The one she's told him to wear for court, multiple times. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out.
Attempting to concoct some bullshit to warrant a visit to her office, she blindsided him completely and the second he saw her in the green, he was a goner.
Apparently she pays attention, too.
He remembers the first time he saw her in that dress. A late night, after a particularly exhausting case, ice melting in their glass of scotch, the sound of his father's records filling the room. Donna helping him wrap up the final paperwork, and it's easy, natural, the two of them in the city that never sleeps, but that night feels like it was made for them alone. Donna stands to stretch her legs and makes an offhand comment, what a waste of a dress. He swallows the amber liquid in an attempt to still his tongue, keep him from blurting out that it's not wasted, and certainly not on him.
He does, however, let his eyes linger on the creamy expanse of skin. The curve of her breasts, their fullness and the reflection from the city skyline that leaves her glowing.
Their eyes meet; hold each other and everything they are and everything they are not a little too long before she bids him good night.
He's forced to visit the men's room before the meeting, splashing cool water on his face as he wills his body to calm down.
Usually he can hold his own. But it's different, this time, and he thinks he knows why.
It's the fact that she's openly trying to get him to crack that affects him this much — Donna has never done this on purpose, to his knowledge, and the fact that she allows him to see down her dress — might even want him to see — does things to him that are not client-meeting appropriate.
By the time he arrives at the conference room, Donna is charming Kessler, standing much closer than can be deemed professional. The man's eyes dip towards her chest and Harvey's blood boils.
"Thanks, Donna," he interrupts them, nodding at her as he turns to shake Kessler's hand.
"Actually, I was hoping Ms. Paulsen could stay. I'm interested to hear more about retainer options." Kessler ignores Harvey's outstretched hand in favor of gesturing to Donna. She smiles and brushes his arm as she moves into the room, sitting at the head of the table. Kessler follows immediately, eyes glued on her hips and Harvey wants to deck him.
He'll hear about it from Louis later, but Harvey does not give two shits about this man's supposed expansion plan. Not when he's very obviously leering at Donna's dress — or more accurately, where her dress is not.
And Donna is loving this. Her voice is low and soft as she carries on about payment options and firm culture. Thomas — please, call me Thomas — makes pointed comments about how he's always felt this was the right fit and it takes all of Harvey's willpower not to snap his pen in half.
Donna leans forward, her dress gapes, Kessler visibly swallows and Harvey clears his throat.
"I think we've heard enough." He slides the expansion agreement across the table with more force than is necessary. "It's important to keep your eye on the goal, Thomas."
It's not subtle. Harvey glowers at him, a look that says back the hell off. It's not his place and he knows it but god damn it, she wore that dress for him and he's not going to share it with anyone else.
Kessler signs the agreement without further comment. Harvey feels Donna's eyes boring into the back of his head. He knows what he'll see there and he almost doesn't turn around.
But he does.
And it is definitely not what he expects.
All his blood rushes south. Shit. She's doing this on purpose.
And it worked.
Her sultry stare, dark hazel glinting with a tease, innocent smile disappearing as she brings the tip of her pen between her lips. It's all too much, and he snatches back the papers from Kessler far too quickly before darting out of the room.
—
Thomas lingers while she gathers the paperwork, but before he can even get the question out Donna is turning him down.
That show was for one man and one man only.
Donna, one; Harvey, zero.
She doesn't see Harvey the rest of the day. When she leaves for the night the light to his office is still on, dim glow casting shadows on the wall.
When she's home she imagines going to find him after the meeting. Pushing open the door to the men's room. He's against the sinks, eyes locking with hers in the mirror.
She's bold; never breaking eye contact, she cups the bulge in his pants, scratches her nails up and down in a tantalizing rhythm that makes him stumble. That's fine. She'll push forward until his back is against the wall, trapping him there, unzip his fly to take him in her hand, hot and needy.
He looks at her like she's going to give him everything he has ever wanted. Like she already has.
And it's these moments in her fantasies that affect her the most; the tenderness in his eyes, in his every touch, the affectionate nature that he buries behind a controlled facade, breaking free for her and her alone. The heat in her belly explodes tenfold as dream-Harvey bucks into her hand, crashing his lips into hers as she fondles him. His hand traces the soft swell of her breast and she replicates the motion, pinching and rolling her nipples. Her hands aren't big enough and it frustrates her.
The dress doesn't come off. Her hand moves quickly under the bunched fabric, bent over her mattress as she masks her moans into her pillow.
-day two-
This is going to be harder than he thought.
Harvey winces, the unintentional pun not lost on him.
Donna greets him by the elevator the following morning, cup of coffee in hand but he doesn't even notice it, not when there is so much of Donna to look at. The plunging neckline, gentle valley of her breasts. Soft waves of red hair falling on bare, freckled shoulders.
She always looks like this; effortlessly, breathtakingly beautiful.
But it's her coy smile, knowing gaze, and the smear of pink lipstick on the plastic lid that send him reeling.
"Good morning, Harvey," she says warmly as he takes the cup from her.
"Donna," he replies, ghost of a smile on his lips. "Are you drinking my coffee now?"
She fixes him with a look. She doesn't back down; he loves that about her.
He loves so many things about her it's hard to keep track.
"You were late," comes the simple response. "Get here on time and maybe I'll let you have it all."
She's teasing, just shy of outright flirting and he'd call her on it but he's not going to let her have all the fun.
Without another word he sips the cool liquid, holding her gaze. There's heat coursing through him but there is also an intimacy he didn't expect, from the knowledge that this is a shared coffee, regardless of the intention. That her lips were where his are now, just minutes before.
Maybe he's crazy, but coffee has never tasted so good.
He licks his lips pointedly. Her pupils dilate, fixate on his tongue.
When a few more seconds pass and she still doesn't turn away, he decides to call her bluff. "Something wrong, Donna?"
She points to her own lip. "You have some..."
Oh, but he's going to make her say it. "Some what?"
Donna sighs, crosses her arms. To keep from reaching out, he thinks, or it's what he'd like to think. "You have lipstick on your mouth, Harvey."
He gives a half-assed attempt at rubbing it off. "Did I get it?"
"Not even close."
"Well," he says, gesturing at his bottom lip with a smirk.
Donna narrows her eyes, leans in closer. "That's against the rules."
"We'll make an exception. I can't walk around like this, can I?"
She's hesitating, and Harvey can't understand why. Moments pass as she blinks up at him, as if waiting for something.
Finally, she takes a tissue out of her purse and swipes at the corner of his mouth hurriedly.
He aches to catch her wrist in a silent thanks, stroke his thumb over the delicate bone.
But she made it a point to avoid skin-to-skin contact.
It doesn't count.
Before he can react, she's grabbing the plastic cup out of his hand, sipping slowly before wiping the rim with the same tissue.
"One more taste," she breathes, and Harvey's knees buckle.
Donna turns and strides down the hall towards her office, and he can't seem to hide the grin that creeps onto his face.
Because it's no longer a matter of if; it's a matter of when.
It's always been when.
The feeling settles in his chest, a solid comfort, this quiet revelation that for once in his life — in their lives — there is a clear path.
He doesn't know how, but the end result will be them, together.