Author's Note: So I've recently discovered Mad Men and have been glued to the TV for days. I blame this new addiction for not having updated sooner. Also, thanks for the reviews :)
Chapter 7
"We're going to be late," Donna reluctantly murmurs because the last thing on her mind is files and memos and unread case files. Harvey's chin rests against her stomach. She's wearing an old Harvard sweatshirt of his. It's pushed up, covering only her breasts, leaving her midriff exposed. Harvey's smile is wide and his eyes are dancing as he traces each of her freckles with his tongue. He does this frequently, she notes.
"I'm sure your boss will understand if you're late," he says, all charm and arrogance. Though she can hardly be annoyed when he looks so gleeful, nipping at her skin, marking her. He places a wet kiss above her belly button and rolls over, laying his head flat on her stomach. Her fingers thread through his hair of their own accord, musing it playfully. He bats her hand away, smirking.
"We have to go in sometime," she points out.
Harvey stretches out languidly, runs his fingers lightly up her side. She wonders if he knows that he has a habit of tracing patterns on her skin.
"I don't see why. If I'm not there, you don't need to be."
She begrudgingly admits that he isn't entirely wrong and lets her head sink further into his pillow. "Mike may have a panic attack if you're not there."
"Forgive me if I'm not thinking about my associate at this current time," he remarks sarcastically. Donna relents easily because she's trapped under the weight of him, immobile from the waist down.
"No later than eight-thirty," she half scolds.
His hand searches for hers, their fingers tangling together. "I can live with that."
It's the first time she has been in his bed. And if she's being honest, Harvey isn't alone in wanting to spend all morning in it. Donna finds it almost alarming how easy it is to forget about the world outside of his bedroom.
Her thoughts don't stray to Pearson Darby or the meeting with Jessica she knows Harvey will likely be late for. She doesn't even muse over the other women who have been in this bed before her because Harvey has the unique ability to make her forget that there was ever anyone else.
They have been doing this for almost three weeks now and somehow each night still feels like the first. She revels in the attention he gives her body, using his hands to commit every curve to memory, cataloguing each sound she makes when his lips and tongue wander across her skin.
It's Harvey and he doesn't do anything half-heartedly, so she should have expected no less. But he has never let her know this side of him and she finds herself often stunned by a man she has known for the better part of thirteen years.
"I'm glad you came over," he says offhandedly, staring at the ceiling. The words are admitted simply, but cause her to turn her head to bury a smile in his pillow.
"You wouldn't stop haranguing me about it," she says, her voice muffled.
He laughs at her. "Well I haven't slept in my own bed since Sunday."
For some reason it only now occurs to her that they haven't been apart for the past five nights. Donna eases herself out from underneath Harvey and his head collapses on the mattress.
"Do you mind? I was comfortable," he grumbles, making an attempt to tug on the sweatshirt she wears. She ignores his objections and pads into the adjoining bathroom. Donna strips off Harvey's shirt, making a mental note to sneak it into her handbag before she leaves. He has at least three, but this is the only one that fits her and she plans to claim it.
She steps under the hot spray of the shower, leaving the door open. No more than a moment passes before Harvey steps in behind her and wraps his arms around her waist.
He has never truly been a morning person, despite being in a profession that tends to require such a thing.
But she is, and most mornings she rises before he does. She is usually on her second cup of coffee before he tumbles out of bed. Some days he finds it hard to string a sentence together before the sun rises, but her face is alert, her smile sharp and bright without fail. On the mornings where he's lucky (like today) and she allows herself an extra twenty minutes of sleep, he can catch her before she quietly slips out of bed.
She has a routine, he's noticed. Coffee first, shower second. She likes to get dressed last, after she has curled her hair and applied her makeup. She also likes to crawl over him – fully dressed, and kiss him until he wakes up, though he is never actually sleeping. He figures she probably realises this.
It's taken him years but he has learned to endure the incessant chirp of his alarm, the cold air of his apartment and tying his tie with sleep addled eyes. He used to hate mornings but Donna suddenly makes them bearable.
They prefer to arrive at Pearson Darby separately, or she does anyway. He usually gives her a head start, allowing himself to be late just to save face in front of the other partners and associates – particularly Mike. That kid is too damned intuitive for his own good.
When they arrive at the office, she is twenty minutes late and he is five minutes behind her. But there's not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in her dress. She looks as she always does, and Mike doesn't even bat an eye when he breezes past her desk and into Harvey's office.
It quietly thrills him to possess the knowledge that her body was slick and wet against his no more than an hour ago, that she'll go through her day as normal, smelling like the soap he uses. There's a faint hickey on her left breast, barely hidden by the fabric of her dress but he knows it's there and so does she.
His eyes meet hers through the glass walls of his office. She tosses her fiery hair over her shoulder and flashes him a mischievous grin that goes unnoticed by his associate.
Mike briefs him on the latest developments in their case. His knee is jiggling distractedly and he spits his words out in rapid fire. Harvey estimates that Mike has probably chugged down an entire pot of coffee and judging by his rumpled suit, has likely slept overnight at his desk. Harvey on the other hand, has never felt this well rested in his life.
"You look like shit by the way."
Mike's eyes blink uncontrollably, doesn't even bother to look offended. "I feel fantastic."
"You seem it," he mutters sardonically.
Donna's voice interrupts them, buzzing over the intercom. "Jessica is here to see you."
Jessica saunters in seconds later, her shoulders stiff and her eyes hard. Their interactions since the firm's merger have been deliberately limited and each time they meet, she dons a shield of armour, not unlike his.
"Ross, out."
Mike panics, his eyes widening. Harvey tilts his head toward the door – Mike apparently not taking the hint. Jessica clears her throat once and he obediently scrambles to his feet, exiting the office without another word. Harvey is almost embarrassed by the display.
"I think you scared him away," he snorts.
Jessica folds her arms, towering over his desk and refrains from taking a seat. If he were Mike, Harvey may have found the exhibition intimidating.
"I've got another case for you. The client is a close, personal friend of Darby's."
"Great. Book a meeting with Donna," he says dismissively.
"He requested you personally," she says, as if it should mean something to him.
"I said I'd do it," he snaps. She gives him a hard glare and braces her hands on the edge of his desk.
"I wasn't asking." Harvey abstains from rolling his eyes, but clenches his hand into a fist.
"And I don't need Ross on this either," she instructs. "The last thing I need is for that kid to raise any red flags around Darby."
"Fine, understood."
She nods tersely. "Dana Scott will be by this afternoon to brief you," she says as she departs his office.
Shit, Harvey thinks, though he isn't at all surprised.