Shortly after she's soaking and finally warming up, he knocks and opens the door, avoiding looking her way. He brings in pajamas and sets them on a stool. He leaves the door cracked, explaining the heat seems to have finally kicked in.
When she's finished, she decides not to call him back in. There's no way to gracefully help a naked wet body, and somehow thawing herself out had returned her wits about her. She isn't a damsel, whether in distress or not. The task is challenging but manageable, and soon she's dressed in some very unsexy green tartan flannel pajamas. She's grateful for the coziness and warmth though, and hobbles her way out of the bathroom.
She stifles a laugh when she sees him sitting in the armchair in front of the stove.
He looks up, grinning as he looks her over.
They're in matching PJ's. Harvey in hunter green flannel plaid might be the most amusing sight she's ever seen.
"Festive," she says.
"And matching," he answers dryly. "You hungry?" He doesn't bring up her dressing on her own, and she's thankful.
He moves to the further chair as she approaches, handing her a plate of the steaming pasta. Two glasses of red wine sit between them on a side table.
She raises an eyebrow.
"I found a box of it. I figure with as friendly as Pammy is, she wouldn't mind if we did some relaxing."
She figures he's right, and starts consuming both. It may be from the stress of the trip, but it's some of the best she's ever had.
"Your bath okay?" he asks.
"I feel about a hundred times better."
"How's the ankle?"
"Still twisted."
"We should prop it." Harvey gets up before she can respond, returning soon with a stool, pillows, and ice. He starts arranging it for her, his hands soft as he gently raises her leg.
Her skin goosebumps, before the ice even touches her. He's almost ridiculously attentive. It makes her blush and feel guilty for how apprehensive she's been. "You sure you're warm enough?"
"I'm fine now," he says, sitting beside her again.
"I wonder if Louis and Sheila had the baby yet."
"Nah. His anxiety is probably stalling her labor."
"Be nice."
"What? It can happen."
"And how would you know?" she arches a brow.
"Katie has teased Marcus about it for years."
She straightens, the idea of him being in any way knowledgeable about this not occurring to her. "Oh. Sometimes I forget you're Uncle Harvey."
He smiles, sipping his wine. "Maybe sometime you could come see me in action."
Her eyes grow wide. "To see Marcus?"
"And my mom. Would that be weird?"
"Your long-time secretary turned COO suddenly showing up with you to a family dinner after all these years? I'm sure no one would bat an eye." She smirks, and tries to silence all the questions her brain is begging to ask her subconscious.
"Your parents have met me," he counters.
"I met Marcus that one time he came into the city." She gives him the out he has to be looking for.
"Outside of the firm, Donna."
He's only asking because they're like family. Blurry lines. Not because of anything else. Her attempt to appease herself doesn't help. She's confused. And she has to ask. "That's something you'd really want?"
He smiles, staring toward the fire.
Everything about this trip and how it's going is unsettling her. Never has he been as unreadable all at once. Her gaze slips to the bed, chewing on her bottom lip.
"Not exactly the weekend we thought, huh?" he asks, almost apologetic.
"No."
"Is that…" he pauses, and she meets his eyes. He darts them toward the bed and back. "Going to be okay?"
"We're adults, Harvey."
"So… Is it?" he presses.
"Other than feeling like we're in a Hallmark Christmas movie?" she quips. She's not horrored anymore, and though this raised her heart rate, they're not on an adventure. Even if she might crave his body heat tonight.
"It's weird," he agrees, seeming reluctant.
"It's no different than dancing all night at a wedding, right?"
"Or more." It's bold— the light humor hidden on his face.
She shakes her head. Bringing up the other time isn't going to make this less awkward. "What's the rule about that?"
"The one you've broken too?" he challenges.
She decides to deflect, needing far away from that subject. "More wine?"
"I'll get us some."
Donna's stuffed. Harvey clears their plates and cleans up, then sits again, the tree and fire light dancing around them with fresh glasses of wine. They talk about Mike and Rachel. Harvey tells her about one of their new cases, and Donna tells him about their new craftsman bungalow they bought there. Mike hired a professional decorator to surprise Rachel with it all lit up for the holidays.
"What was your favorite Christmas?" he asks suddenly.
She thinks on it, remembering one of her favorites with her dad. "When I was eleven, there was this girl in the school who hated me. Made my entire year a living hell. Took over areas I hung out in, took over my friends. Then one day, she came up with my best friend right before break. Stephanie. My so-called friend teased me for always sitting with the recital teacher at lunch. The same secret I'd confessed to her to escape my bully. They skipped off, holding hands." She fidgets, the memory still irritating.
"And that's your favorite?" he teases.
"Do you always interrupt stories?"
His lips smash together. "Go on."
"My dad knew I was depressed. A few days of me moping and he pulled me into the garage and sneakily showed me a program for arts camp for that spring they'd gotten me as a gift. Told me not to tell my mom, but better days were coming."
"I bet little Donna ate that up."
"Oh yeah. I was in much better spirits. Camp ended up being my first experience in a play. It was where my love for piano grew. I came home with two new best friends."
He's biting the inside of his cheek, like there's something he's holding back.
"My dad isn't all bad, Harvey."
"None of us are."
She wonders if he's referring to his mother, or something else. "What's your favorite holiday memory?"
"I don't know."
"Come on, you've got to have one."
"Okay, fine." He leans back. "This one year Marcus found gifts hidden in the closet. All he wanted that year was a Gameboy. Couldn't shut up about it.
He saw his name on the tag, knew the box like his face, so he unwrapped it. The idiot. He took it out of the box and rewrapped it, planning to put it back before they noticed. Want to guess what happened next?"
"That didn't work out." She shakes her head.
"They moved the presents. He had to unwrap an empty box. Dad made Marcus give it back for three months. He cried and cried. It was his main gift, you know."
"Heartwarming story, Harvey. Glad you shared." It's her turn to roll her eyes.
"Are you going to let me finish?" he asks cheekily.
She seals her lips, waiting.
"I knew where they hid it. I felt bad, so I got it down for him when they left us alone. I was a sucker."
"Some things never change."
"Maybe not. You know he smashed his screen six months later? Banged his head into it because he was pissed at a game."
"You're kidding?"
Harvey shakes his head.
"God you're a pushover."
He chuckles.
They trade stories and laugh until Harvey needs to add to the fire again. They've finished several glasses of wine each, and Donna starts to yawn.
"Tired?" he asks.
She probably is. But honestly doesn't know. She wants to climb into bed, and perhaps that's what makes her not want to. Feeling his hands on her made her want more of the feeling. Being close to him. Feeling an ease between them.
They have no office distractions. No books. No phones. No television. Not even a way distract herself with other things around the cabin because of her leg. She nods because maybe even continuing talking and drinking might be a risk.
"So how are we doing this? Head to feet?"
"What are we ten? And if you think you're putting those by my face—" she gestures to his feet.
"Me on top of the covers?" He chuckles, teasing.
"I don't think that cross on their door needs to carry that much weight, Harvey."
Their smiles suddenly fade, and he's helping her over to the bed. She climbs in and he checks the stove, adding another log. She spreads the extra blankets across the bed, and he's soon beside her.
"Do you want the Motrin?"
She shakes her head. It wouldn't mix with wine so well. He climbs in beside her.
She's laying on her back, staring at the ceiling, the sides of their bodies touching and lined up. She can smell his aftershave. Him. Some kind of woodsy, citrus scent calling her in.
Her leg is throbbing, and she's not sure if she can sleep.
He stuffs his arms under the blankets, resting them at his sides. She feels his pinky lingering against her thigh. Maybe it's the injury. Maybe it's the fact she's vulnerable and they're alone. The lightest touches are making her crave more.
She lets her hand slip lower. Tempting closer. Until hers brushes his. The sides of their hands test each other, tentative until their fingers link. She can feel his body move with breaths. His chest expanding and falling. She wants to feel it. Know that she can.
"You comfortable?" he asks.
"Not really," she admits.
"Your leg?" he asks.
She confirms, using it as an excuse. She's not sure if the answer is the main reason, but it's less terrifying than the truth.
"Come here." His hand unlinks from hers and seeks for her other wrist. Pulling her to her side, his arm scooping under her head. He finds her leg and coaxes it over his, hand cupping just above her knee. It skims up, resting just above her hip. "Better?"
She feels like she can't breathe at first. Her face finds his shoulder, scent of foreign fabric that smells of someone else's detergent. He's smoothing fingertips in her hair. She wants to sink into him, breathe him in, let go the way her body wants her to. Lose herself in finding him.
His lips press in her hair and then he stills. He shifts until he catches her face. Eyes meeting. Intermingling breaths. An inch of a decision between them.
This is why they don't touch. An unlocked door. No longer off limits, hers for the taking if she only kept taking steps. Taunting; tempting.
But he put them here. He's letting them get this close when he has to know she wanted more, when he made her promise to never do it again. This isn't fair.
His head angles and she snaps. "No, Harvey." She pushes his arm off, and pulls herself to sit, disentangling as far away as possible in such a ridiculously small bed.
"Donna—"
She holds up a hand to stop him. "You can't just do this without an explanation."
His face tenses, a furrow in his brow. "Well since we can't seem to find the words, I thought we'd communicate a different way." He pauses before he looks up to her.
"I deserve more. We both do."
He sighs and pulls himself to sit, facing her, wearing an almost desperate expression. "Where do I start, Donna?"
"With how you feel." There's something almost cruel about her holding him to the mat like this, waiting for him to fully submit first or having her walk away. But she's given him her life without questioning why he deserved the constancy, and she feels like for once she's going to demand blind faith from him.
He looks down. "The way I feel about you," his voice is low, almost timid except for the depth of his tone, "I've never been able to express because I have nothing like it to compare to."
"Well, I guess that's a—"
"Let me finish," he demands, slightly petulant.
She acquiesces, biting back an impressed smile.
"I said before that I love you." He meets her eyes, voice almost harsh, as she holds her breath.
His face softens. "And at first that meant I needed you. Around. By my side. Loyalty."
"At first?"
"Now I've figured out I want to be around you. I like being the one to make you smile. I like being able to call you whenever I need to. I want to see you when I get home and goddammit I crave to touch you."
She feels mute, like stuck in a dream where all options have left you frozen in the face of a risk. Her heart is carved out and raw, all the pieces laying between them, even though he's the one that just confessed.
"Are you going to say anything?" he presses.
"I—I'm not sure I can." She's more than terrified.
"You challenged me." He bends his head, expectantly.
As if she's the one who brought them here. He's not getting off that easy. "First… why haven't you done anything before now?"
He sighs. "I've wanted to talk about it. It's not so easy."
"We should talk about what happened seems pretty self explanatory to me."
"I couldn't risk losing you." His eyes are firm on hers, and then he softens again. "That's… That's the only thing I can't live with."
She shakes her head. "Doing nothing could've risked everything."
"You think I don't know that? That's why when Louis suggested you come with me, I jumped. It's just, after thirteen years of holding back, it's hard to work you want everything into a conversation."
She's blinking, trying to hold back being teary and emotional and such a cliche about this.
"You know, the minute I realized you were actually kissing me? I've never wanted anyone more."
"Well, you had a shitty way of expressing that."
"You didn't have great timing."
"It wasn't planned."
They're silent, her mind circling, unable to process the words as fast as they came.
He's suddenly leaning in, close again. Hand pressing into the mattress beside her.
"Since you're struggling to tell me how you feel... If you could kiss me again right now, would you?"
Her eyes fall closed, briefly, like feeling the heat of his breath has her under a spell. When you've trapped words that linger in your subconscious repeatedly over a decade of years, they feel insurmountable to let free. She wants to throw the burden back on him. Make him say he wants to. She nods lightly instead, her eyelids fluttering.
He leans in more, breath trading with hers. Their lips brush, soft, instantly awaking a craving for more. He reads it, mouth parting, seeking her lips until their tongues touch. She grips his collar as he angles her with fingertips on her chin. Her head is spinning. She parts for her bearings. Their foreheads rest together.
"You're not going to demand the same from me?" she asks. Because maybe he should.
"Does my answer get in the way of me getting to see you naked again?"
She pulls back, tilting her head and he rolls his eyes.
"We deserve this, Harvey."
His face hardens, like he's bracing himself for something. It occurs to her maybe hearing this is going to be even harder for him than saying it. She's giving it to him anyway. "You scare the shit out of me. Or my feelings for you do. Because I never wanted to sacrifice as much of everything for anyone else. I don't want to need people."
"I know," he says, softly, almost defensively. His hand clenching on her thigh.
"I need you."
He swallows.
"And maybe I had my rule in place to see if we were ever strong enough to break it." She feels like she's going to pass out from the admission. Or his little grin that's hitting her in the chest.
His eyes now have a sheen, his chin almost shaking. "I do love you. Can I kiss you again now?"
How he seems to suddenly be one step ahead emotionally she'll never know. "One more thing first," she decides.
His shoulders fall.
She pulls in a breath, letting the last of her barricades fall free with an exhale. "I love you too, Harvey."
His face softens, relaxed, wearing the most genuine grin she's ever seen him wear. It finds her quickly, his mouth open and needing. He's savoring his exploration, finding her bottom lip then top. He pulls her up onto his lap, his hand cradling her face before it slips down her hair, to her neck and shoulder until finally finding her side. Her mouth parts more, craving him, wanting more. He sucks on her tongue, causing her to whine, then sweeps inside, taking turns with her lips and making everywhere else want the attention he's giving her mouth. She leans into him, needing him. Fingers brushing into his hair and nails tracing patterns. She grips as much of his trimmed strands as she can, pulling him closer.
His lips move to her chin then arrive and her neck. Her breaths are practically coming in pants just from the way he's devouring. He begins to unbutton her pajama shirt, then they pull apart, him looking her over and laughing. "Not exactly how I'd imagined this."
"Tired of undressing me yet?" she teases, beginning on his buttons too.
"I'm just getting started."
She swallows. So much so fast, and so much to… come.
He finally just pulls her shirt over her head, growing impatient of the last buttons and she does the same with his. Slow breaths and needing eyes linger over her naked skin. Eyes lingering over her chest then back to her face. If she wasn't warm now the want alone could heat her up.
She wants to straddle him, feel the entirety of his chest but a wrong twist tells her that's not going to work. "My leg. I'm worried… are we going to be able to do this?"
A thought of regret seems to pass over his face. "Shit."
Her thumbs flick across his nipples. "I'm sorry. Maybe we can—"
"No. I left protection in the car."
"I'm… covered Harvey. If you?"
He nods, then pulls her off his lap to his side of the bed, an intention obvious. He helps her out of the pants, gently slipping them from her hips. Then he's off the bed and removing his own. They're taking each other in, his want no longer hidden.
She reaches for him, gripping and savoring the velvet skin over his length. Using her thumb to spread the moisture already formed at the tip. He thrusts between her fingers, eyes closing. She coaxes him closure with a tug, leaning forward to take the head in her mouth. She sucks down his cock a few times, using her lips to spread saliva and work a slow rhythm, not wanting to end this quickly. Her hands find his butt, pulling him in enough to elicit moans while she feels his balance waver.
He's quickly threading fingers in her hair, gripping to slow her, their eyes meeting from her down there and him up there. How fitting. How Harvey. And yet the power levels felt completely reversed. She thinks it's a perfect metaphor for who they are. Him on top getting the obvious rewards, her in complete control with him at her mercy.
He pulls her gently back, dick near throbbing, a thick heat filling the room and constricting her chest. It's time. For them.
She's soon helped to her back, him parting her legs to fit between. He kisses her again, soon moving back down her neck, to her chest. He spends time there. Kissing the underside of her breasts, fingers skimming the outsides while his mouth finds a nipple. She arches to his exploration. Wanting more at any given place, while needing him to go further.
He's at her stomach to her hips, making her close to ticklish as her body squirms to his mouth. Hot air teases as he finds the inside of her thighs, sucking in flesh and exploring her outer lips. She reaches between her legs and grips his hair, harder than he had hers. Playful eyes meet hers between her legs. His mouth moves forward and finds her clit, not being shy about suction off the bat. His tongue flicks in tune with it drawing between his lips. It's almost to the point of too much while she wants to beg him never to stop. His fingers find her entrance and he moans vibrations against her clit as he slips inside.
They work to find space, twisting and thrusting deeper, searching for the spot that makes her gasp. Contact hits, and he's coaxing her demise from inside and out. She's glad noise isn't an issue because she's panting and moaning more than she can even fully process.
He's stilling her hips, keeping her down on the earth when her body is seeking another world. She doesn't take long to come hard, the room disappearing while she's only left with his name releasing from her lips. Releasing her from years of craving him— only set free by his assistance.
She's raw and throbbing with the best ache she's even known when his tongue carries her gently on the other side, fingers pulling out and leaving her wanting.
"Fuck, Harvey."
His jaw works, which seems to be enough of an answer that that was his next plan. He scoots to the opposite side of her, coaxing her to turn away from him. She looks back at him questioningly, and he answers with his mouth tasting of her. Sensual and assured, a flat palm on her abdomen pulling her back into him.
An open mouth kiss lands where her shoulder meets her neck, and goosebumps form all the way to her toes. He leans her forward a bit, bending her legs in front. His upper hand grazes over her chest and stomach while he kisses her neck. He adjusts her top leg, making room, his cock slipping along her slit. The intense rush she feels between her legs is almost more than she can take. She's rocking backwards, needing to feel him. He positions and slips inside, letting her adjust as he presses forward.
It's slower than she imagined out of necessity. But somehow better. His mouth exploring her neck and upper back alone playing a tune that could just about get her there. His palm squeezing her breasts, skimming along her bare skin lighting awareness to being touched this way by Harvey. She reaches behind to pull his head into her, then around her hip to pull at his. Coaxing him deeper inside. His fingers find their way between her legs, igniting her senses again. He works his hips, alternating rhythm with his fingers, mouth voracious on her neck.
Her body climbs slowly, so gently she's worried she won't go a second time. Then the tension prickles in her belly, right to the top before it drops her, soaring gently and softly to the ground. His body speeds up behind hers, finding his release in several final strokes.
They end entangled and spent together. Taking up half a bed that had started half the size she thought she needed, overheated and all tension eased. Exactly the reverse of how they'd arrived.
.
They awake to sunshine through the cabin's tiny windows. The fire had gone out overnight, their bodies still joined under the blankets seeking each other's warmth. Kissing him first thing in the morning feels like a more vivid version of a recurring dream. He takes her a second time, this time with care on top. Her leg is throbbing and swollen by the end, with purple bruising now fully formed.
Harvey brings her Motrin and ice, then gets started on making eggs, sausage, and toast. He brings her breakfast in bed, and they throw the pajamas back on just to stay warmer. Pammy and Bob arrive to let them know the road is plowed, and Harvey throws on his coat to go and get their luggage with Bob's help, this time parking closer.
When he's back, he helps her get dressed in her own clothes, then she pulls out a wrapped package from her luggage and hands it his way. He seems touched by the gesture, his forehead forming wrinkles in surprise. He opens the paper and the box, then pulls out a stack of documents. "What's this?"
"Can you not read, named partner?"
He rolls his eyes then scans the text. His jaw twitches. "My father's work?"
"A song. I had Samantha bargain for you to have rights. I know it doesn't get it distributed wide, but it's yours."
"Second Chances," he reads softly.
"I didn't plan on it being so apropos but…"
"Life sometimes works out."
"Yeah," she breathes.
"Well, my gift is going to go right along with that theme."
"Harvey, I always get my own presents."
"Not always." He gets up from the bed, then goes over to his garment bag and produces a large envelope.
"You're so original."
"Open it."
She unwraps the seal, then slips out her own stack of legal documents and reads. Theater, Connecticut. A transfer of title. The Donna? "What is this Harvey?"
His cheeks are flushed, and he bites his lip. "It's an old theater company I bought. For you. It's small and run by locals mostly."
"You found a theater company named The Donna?"
"Not exactly. You can call it whatever you want. I just thought that after what happened with your previous venture, maybe you'd like one that was closer to your roots? If it's a stupid idea—"
She silences him with her lips pressing into his. Tears spill out of her eyes. She's sure she's never loved someone as much as she loves him right now.
.
He leaves a stack of hundreds on the counter for Bob and Pammy. They say their goodbyes and Harvey offers them a trip on him to the city someday. New experience had led them to great things, so maybe it could for them too.
.
The hotel staff brings Donna a wheelchair as soon as they arrive. They have a staff medic come and check it, wrapping it in a brace and bandage, and suggest they go to the local urgent care for an X-ray first thing in the morning. Donna protests it's overkill, but he's not taking chances with her. Especially not now.
The lobby of the resort looks nothing short of spectacular. Three-story high ceilings with exposed stained beams, massive chandeliers lighting up the large space. If rustic could meet elegance they seemed to have the look mastered. He's pleased with her wide eyes and chatter surrounding it all. He thinks he could spend a lifetime trying to cause both.
Many of the planned activities are out, but there's no shortage of options when nudity and a shared bed are suddenly opportunities. They'll utilize room service and hot tubs but won't need much more.
They check them in quickly, immediately offering the two bedroom suite for their trouble. The irony isn't lost on them. They quickly decline.
The room is nothing short of just as impressive. Log walls throughout with a wooden ceiling, a large handcrafted headboard framing a king platform bed. He helps lift her on it, planning to keep her rested and cared for, and thoroughly making use of the rest.
She's looking out an entire wall of windows facing twilight snow, with ample seating to admire the view. A riverstone fireplace is on the far wall, with holiday decor throughout. She looks at him, her chest rising and falling. He sits beside her, feeling like he'd stepped into a different life. One where he could feel relaxed. Settled. Happy. Lucky.
Harvey's phone chimes and he answers. "Hello."
"Oh my god Harvey. I've never been so happy to hear your voice. You made it." Louis sounds positively giddy.
"Who called you? We just got to the resort."
"I threatened lawsuits if they didn't inform me the minute you and Donna entered those double doors. I had the search party ordered."
"We weren't lost, Louis. At least not all the way." Harvey meets Donna's eyes and she gives him a soft smile. "Just stuck."
"So…" Louis stops.
Harvey knows Louis is dying for the big question. "The baby come yet?"
Donna practically leaps over and grabs his phone, hitting the speaker button. "Wait, wait. I want to be a part of this. Did she?"
"Hi Donna. So glad you're okay."
"Louis!" she demands.
"She did." Louis's voice is the most proud he's ever heard, and almost… secure. Which was the oddest way to ever describe Louis.
"So?" Donna asks.
"Matilda. Matilda Darvey Litt."
"Darvey?" they both say in unison.
"What, I thought you were both dead."
"As in Donna and Harvey, Louis?" Donna asks.
"What other combination could it be?" Louis asks.
"We weren't even missing 24 hours," Harvey says.
"Sheila and I didn't want to tempt fate. She got a name she likes and I got Jewish."
"So she's Matilda glad you both weren't dead Litt," Harvey teases.
"It means heroine. She was probably good luck for you," Louis says.
Donna's cheeks flush just a bit.
"Maybe she is Louis," Harvey says, feeling his own chest full and content. This was his Gameboy, her Art camp, arriving at the perfect time and in the perfect way.
"So, tell us all the details," Donna presses, turning off speaker.
Harvey helps her prop up her leg while she talks, then she hangs up with a smile on her face.
"He's so happy."
"He's not the only one," Harvey says, sitting next to her, their lips brushing.
"You know what he said? His heart opened up. A new spot Matilda owned. He's such a sap."
"Never related to the guy more." Harvey kisses Donna until they fall against the pillows. Something telling him now that he'd opened up to Donna, his life had opened up to his more too.