Dripping wet and shivering, Donna clutches the towel around her as Harvey opens the door to her trailer. The harrowing storm scene was brutal to film, but she didn't complain, simply grateful she still has a job.

After all the media backlash, and a full day of deliberating, the producers fired and replaced Declan with the assistant director. A relief that can withstand her numb extremities.

Once she has a hot shower, she'll be back in hair and makeup, ready for the next shoot.

Guided through the luxury trailer by Harvey, she hugs herself as he reaches into the small bathing cubicle, and switches the pump to high. Her teeth chatter as he fiddles with the knob. "It takes… a few minutes… to warm up."

Grabbing another towel, Harvey cocoons her in a second layer while they wait. She spent hours being soaked with tanks of icy water, and he noticed she was keeping weight off her ankle in the last couple of takes.

Worried, he balances her with two steady hands. "You okay?" She nods, still quivering, and he sighs. "Would you tell me if you weren't?"

Her eyes sparkle with amusement as she shakes her head, which prompts a low chuckle from him.

The woman is damn near impossible.

Not sure what else to do, he curls his fingers into a loose fist, his knuckles grazing her cheek to see if she's warming up at all. The skin speckles pink under his touch. She's blushing, he's sure of it. But her mouth still has a blue tinge, and he drags his thumb to the corner of her lips, thinking about kissing them senseless, until they're plump with color again.

The pipe in the shower gurgles, spraying out water, and he shakes himself free of her hold, dropping his arm. "I'll leave you to it."

Disappointment kicks Donna's rib cage as he retreats through the door, but she pushes the ache aside long enough to rejuvenate under the hot stream of water.

Soaping herself, she daringly lets out her fantasy of Harvey kissing. Since his previous rotation, his behavior towards her has changed. He's still demanding and infuriatingly smug, but they're growing comfortable around each other, and a yearning blossoms inside her.

He was so close just now, staring at her lips with simmering desire, and she would have responded eagerly, her will molded by his powerful, big hands.

She smiles deviously.

Maybe it's not too late.

Maybe all he needs is a tiny push to encourage his more intimate side.

Stepping out of the shower, she grabs the medium-sized towel that normally holds all her hair and she wraps it around herself. Tightening the knot, jiggles her breasts, giving them extra lift.

A quick mirror check confirms she's almost decent, enough so that if Harvey rejects her — she's confident he won't — the mystery will stay alive.

Plastering on a seductive smile, she swings her hips out of the bedroom.

"All warmed up."

Slouching against the small kitchenette, Harvey tries and fails to keep his eyes averted as she struts over the sink. "So I see." He stands up straighter, clutching the bench behind him while she pours a glass of water.

Leaning casually next to him, her gaze fills with mischief as she takes a sip. "Mmmm, it's good. Very wet."

Her gaze locks onto him, her hips shifting and drawing his attention down to devilish length of the towel. He inhales, then expels the air with a rough cough. "You should get dressed."

"Why?"

Fuck. Because he might have an embarrassing accident if she doesn't.

"You're my client," he says firmly. "I don't mix business with pleasure."

"But you want to." She calls him out with impure, adulterated sass. "Admit it, you're into me."

For a moment he wrestles with the truth. Denying he's attracted to her would be an insult to both their intelligence. So, he plays an honest hand. "You're half-naked, and I'm human. Don't read into anything."

She places the glass in the sink, her fingers brushing the knot that's squeezing her cleavage. "What if I was completely naked?"

His jugular bounces as she moves closer, her wide doe eyes making it hard for him to think properly. "Donna." The warning is anything but stern. More of a raspy plea. "I mean it. We shouldn't—"

A fast knocking startles them both and Harvey grips her hand, ensuring her towel stays right where it is.

"Go, get dressed."

Once again, Donna experiences a tug of disappointment, but she'd rather not parade around in front of whoever is at her trailer.

Although it would be comical see Harvey's reaction.

"Go."

He gives her a small push, and she does as she's told, slipping into the bedroom and quickly changing into a jumper and jeans.

Tossing her wet hair up into a bun, she jumps when Harvey's angry shouting carries to her side of the trailer. In a panic, she rushes back out to find him yelling at a ghostly pale teenager.

The kid, nearly in tears, stutters as he stumbles down the steps. "I… I'm sorry, Sir. It won't happen again."

"You're goddamn right it won't!" Harvey snaps. Because he's going to have the weaselly prick's ass, fired.

He slams the door closed, and Donna grabs his arm, pulling him around. "What the hell was that? You scared the life out of that poor kid."

Harvey marches across to her table, where the delivery from the courier is sitting. "That poor kid snuck through all our security checkpoints because someone instructed him to deliver this in person. You want me to give him a goddamn medal?"

The bite to his sarcasm deflates Donna's anger, shaky steps bringing her close to the long narrow box. Beneath the cellophane lid are twelve black roses with a card that has the word "Soon" scrawled on it.

Gasping, she covers her mouth, looking to Harvey for comfort, but his eyes are cold and unsympathetic.

"Let's go."

Fear spreads through her, one question racing through her mind. Soon, what? She's already come close to being crushed to death, and it's obvious that the person who wants to harm her hasn't given up.

"Go where?"

"To do your job," he growls. Like he should be doing his, not falling all over himself, getting distracted anytime she bats her goddamn lashes.

Fuck.

"But what if—"

"My job is to handle this." He ignores her panicking worry, flinging the trailer door open again. Where she has her hair and makeup done is secure, and she'll be safe so long as she stays there.

"Move."

Donna flinches at his harsh bark, her wobbly legs following his instruction. In a situation like this, she's learned to listen and trust him, and when he drops her off at the styling department, she doesn't make any wisecracks or smartass retorts.

"You stay here until I come and get you, understand?"

She nods meekly, the response leaving him unsatisfied. "I mean it, Ms. Paulsen. You don't leave this room, not for anyone else. Not even if the president himself comes knocking. Are we clear?"

His formality hits her like a smack in the face, and she clenches her jaw. Yes, she's scared, but Harvey acting like an asshole triggers a reset. "We're clear."

"Good."

His towering form abandons her, and she sinks her eyes closed, overwhelming dread digging roots. This movie was supposed to propel her into the big leagues of Hollywood. Instead, she's worried that by accepting this role, she's put her life, career, and even her heart on the line.

The urge to pack up and go home to L.A. chases her around for the rest of the afternoon, making her fingers itch to reach out and call Louis when filming is delayed again, this time because of on-set security concerns.

God, she misses him.

If her agent was here, he'd be giving her some overly dramatic pep-talk about how fabulous she is and fuck anyone who dares mess with her.

Instead, she's stuck with Harvey, who keeps snapping and shouting at her. Or worse, ignoring her completely.

His tense silence suffocates the drive back to her rental. Yet, when they arrive, he insists on having eyes on her, forcing her to stay in the study so he can work.

She attempts to do the same thing, stretching out on the couch to focus on her script and nothing else, when that damn light starts flickering above her, and the frustration inside her boils to breaking point.

She's only human, too.

Having her life threatened, plus putting the film in jeopardy, was bad enough. Harvey treating her like she's a stranger and herding her around as though she's an undignified bovine, fuels the fire in her, and she snaps.

"Are we going to talk about what happened today or not?"

"We did talk," he grumbles. "I debriefed you. You're safe. You want a hug, go back to L.A."

She slaps her script down on the table, rising up from the sofa. If Harvey won't acknowledge her needs, fine. The one thing she can do to regain control is fix the goddamn irritation that's been irking her since she moved here.

"What are you doing?"

Harvey's gruff anger doesn't sway her determination as she tugs the couch directly underneath the light. Ignoring him, like he's been ignoring her, she climbs atop of the cushions, pressing her palms against the back of the sofa to test its sturdiness.

Harvey follows her gaze up to the dimming globe, realizing what she's attempting to do. "Donna, leave it."

"So it's Donna again, is it?" she snipes, lifting herself onto the wobbly backrest. Her fingertips brush the ceiling to steady her balance, wrapping around a smirk when Harvey's chair angrily scrapes across the floor.

She has his attention now.

"Get down from there!"

With determination, she reaches for the plastic rim, stretching up on her toes and tightening it when the couch tips as Harvey grabs her. She squeals, his palms catching her as his weight pushes her into the cushion, his face inches from hers and flushed red.

She smiles sheepishly at him. "I fixed it."

"You're insufferable. You know that?" he growls.

Her smile widens as she wriggles her hips against his groin.

"You have no idea."

The blood rushes south from his brain, his dick hardening as her cheeks glow pink beneath him, and fuck it. He's not going to let her get away with teasing and humiliating him. Not when he's been tormented by the vision of her scantily clad body all fucking day.

Donna gasps as his mouth crashes against her lips with bruising force, her surprise melting into a mewl as she drags her nails down his back, digging her heel into his thigh.

Every inch of him exudes defined muscle, and she's deliciously trapped as his hands roam her body, thrusting under her sweater to grope her breasts.

Her teeth nip at his ear. "I knew you were into me."

The sexy whisper doesn't provoke him. He already has the upper hand, her taut nipples straining in his palm as his knee nudges her legs apart.

She'll be begging before she's smug again.

He pulls off her jumper, lifting himself and taking in the sight of her flushed, heaving chest as he pops open the buttons of his shirt. She's infuriating and stubborn, but she's also impossibly perfect, her lips calling him back to her mouth.

He kisses her more slowly, intense with his exploration, making her whimper with hungry need.

So goddamn fucking perfect.

He reaches inside her sweats, toying with her panties, and rubbing the dampness that's already soaking through the fabric. She gurgles a cry as he slips between her folds, spreading her wetness with teasing strokes.

Panting, she throws her head back, arching her hips, and he chuckles. "More agreeable now, aren't you?"

Donna flusters, unable to gather a retort as he moves down, peeling away her clothes and breathing hotly against her center, waiting. It's obvious he wants her to beg.

And she does.

"Please."

Her submission triggers an insane reaction in him, his cock throbbing as he tastes her, savoring her sweetness while she writhes wildly.

"I need," she chokes. "Harvey."

The way her whimper coils around his name, fuck, he'd give her anything, his control merely an illusion.

He's just a slave, and he gives her what she needs, his body humming with burning satisfaction when she cums hard.

Tending to his own needs, he drags himself up, too overcome to act smug as he releases his straining erection. Making no assumptions, he strokes himself, groaning as he relieves some of the tension, his hooded gaze following Donna's graceful rise onto her knees.

She bats his wrist away, cupping him with a small squeeze as her tongue licks his ear with a lazy whisper.

"I want you inside me. I'm on the pill, no condom."

He jerks in her palm, slamming his eyes shut with a shaky breath, and her laughter tickles his throat.

"Now who's more agreeable?"

That's it.

He grabs her hips, roughly turning her on all fours, and wetness pools in Donna's folds as his thick cock rubs against her. His hand fists her hair and she arches her back, crying out in pleasure when he thrusts deep inside her. "Yes! Don't stop."

He doesn't. Harvey pounds into her, the feeling insatiable. Everything about her that doesn't drive him crazy is fucking unbelievable. Her walls clench, and he holds onto a tiny shred of sanity until she cums a second time, screaming into the cushions. Then he lets go, exploding and emptying himself inside her before collapsing against her slick skin.

Neither of them say anything, no quips or smart remarks when they untangle themselves. Then Donna stands, naked and confident in front of him, extending her hand.

He grins.

Yeah, they're definitely not done.

She leads him to the bedroom, riding him to oblivion, and then he makes love to her slowly, committing every curve and freckle to memory, because it's a night he never wants to forget.

In the early hours of the morning, when she's asleep in his arms, he gently strokes her hair, savoring the peaceful few minutes before he walks out of her rental for the last time.

The reality that she won't see him again cuts deep in his chest. But her life depends on his focus, and falling for her is too much of a distraction.

It hurts, but it's for the best. Her home is in L.A., and they would never have worked out, anyway. She's too damn stubborn, and he doesn't know the first thing about making someone who deserves everything happy.

…

Weary and exhausted, in a good way, Donna smiles as she enters the kitchen, expecting to find Harvey leaning over the stove, cooking them a hearty breakfast.

When she's greeted by Dana brewing a pot of black coffee, her heart drops. The agent isn't supposed to be here for another few days, and Harvey's warning about boundaries makes her suddenly anxious.

"Hey," she says quietly, scrubbing a hand through her hair. "Everything okay? Where's Harvey?"

Sympathy flashes in the woman's gaze, and she nods, swallowing the tight lump in her throat. "He's not coming back, is he?"

Dana shakes her head.

Harvey was candid with her. He told her he'd fucked up, that he was taking paid leave, and would handle the transfer of the case with Jessica.

The thing is, Harvey doesn't make mistakes. If he slept with Donna it was because he'd already figured out that his feelings were compromised, and she seriously doubts he's going to abandon the redhead. But as far as appearances go, he made it clear he wanted a clean break.

"For what it's worth, you mean something to him. Not many people can claim that."

Donna doesn't find that surprising. Not when Harvey spends his life pushing away the people he cares about.

Dana's words are of little comfort, but she gets through the day. Even though Harvey doesn't respond to any of her messages or texts. He makes his stance perfectly clear through his silence; he wants nothing more to do with her.

That suits her just fine.

The last thing she's going to do is chase a man who's too cowardly to fight for what's in his heart.

She's better off without him.

AN: This might be the first time I've posted sexy times without a beta. Next chapter, woof, back to the drama/action. Who's with me?