He feels himself fall backward when she presses palms to his chest. Not from force, but for the hollowness he knows the motion means.

Oxygen fails his breaths, like being stuck in an aware panic.

She reaches for him, but he feels himself fall back. She ignores him and steps again, grabbing his hands. "I don't want to walk away. I want to stay."

After lingering over the new hope on her face he presses his cheek to her temple, arms wrapping around her. More faintly than he really needs because of all the open wounds. Just enough to feel close and not let go.

He falls back, scanning her face. The vulnerability makes him frown. He knows he may never be enough for her. There's a war of guilt and fear in that.

She trains his harshness, ushering him to the right channels. The courtesy fades when she's facing his anger herself, and maybe that's the true burden that kept him away for so long. His own dickishness, even when he tried not to be. Not being aware enough to know what she needed.

He wants to bury himself in the cause of fixing this. Beyond anger and fear or any stupid need, he needs her. Far more than he's ever with anyone else. He'll turn the world upside down to keep fighting for it if the pound in his chest has any control over him.

He speaks softly to her, scared he's gotten too close to forcing her free. "I fought my feelings because," he pauses, her wide eyes adding weights to his chest. Like quitting a fight, withholding now would only make him a coward. He stands straighter. "Because a relationship risked losing you."

Her eyelids flutter, and she swallows with a nod.

His mouth bends in a slight smile, and he grabs her hand. "I hear they call this a city of risks." He bends his head, trying to erase the nerves with charm. Even if she's the last thing he ever wants to gamble.

He sees a hint of her smile, but it doesn't reach her face.

The rich brilliance of a trumpet begins, followed by the beat of a drum set. It's the unfitting soundtrack for her their tentative state.

"Do you want to go back?" She looks toward the stage.

"What do you want? Still feel like some jazz?"

A spark lights in her eyes and she nods gently. He grabs her hand, walking toward the show. He pulls their chairs closer to keep them connected. He hooks his arm around hers, linking their hands.

They move to the blanket as the afternoon grows late. Her settling between his legs and him holding her close. He rests his head against hers, breathing her in. Whispering thank yous for this and pressing kisses to any bare skin he can find.

They finish a bottle of wine together and soon find their way to the dancefloor. Lights like stars are threaded through the trees above, glimmering wishes to the connected couples below. He holds her close, dipping her just to earn a smile that allowed him to fully breathe. Their eyes meet when she comes down from the thrill. They're tangled up in silent communication — some mix of questions, fear, and need. All things he's fucked up but he hopes he soothes them enough with the traces on her spine and the promise on his face.

As stars take over the sky she's shifting around a lot, digging through the empty ice chest.

"Are you ready to leave?" he asks.

"The show's not over yet. Do you?" she asks, caution in her tone.

Guilt hasn't untangled itself from his chest. "It's been a long day. We can go back to the hotel." She's staring at him, face even with thoughts racing around behind those wide eyes of hers. "What?" he presses.

"And I'm not trying to over plan. I'm just hungry and we're in the city." She shrugs, eyes landing in her lap.

"Donna, I didn't mean—"

"We both said things. Let's just enjoy the night."

He suddenly hates brushing this under the rug, not even for himself. It's a facade he'd seen her wear a thousand times. Until tonight he'd been thankful for it, except now it's making him realize how much remains unfixed.

She's beginning to pack up their things, and when she sets the ice chest aside he knows she needs more than room service tonight. This he can fix. "Did you have a place in mind for dinner?"

She looks to him and shakes her head.

"Then I'm taking you out."

A soft smile grows on her lips and suddenly, she feels more like the Donna to his Harvey than she had in a long time. He sucks in the bit of confidence it gives him.

She meets his eyes, nods, then shoots off a text to the coordinator before they head for the rental car.

Despite the ample shade and sunscreen, Nevada sun has taken its toll on her for the day. She's dehydrated, oily and dry all rolled into one and it has her chilled. Before dinner, she needs a warm shower and a change of clothes.

They're walking by the back of the stage when they catch sight of Ronnie Adams again, motioning them over.

He stumbles a bit as he walks, she's sure hours into celebrating with the line-up of performers.

"Tired of jazz already?" he asks.

"Hasn't happened in forty years." Harvey lifts up their intertwined hands. "I'm taking Donna to dinner."

Ronnie studies them both. "Good on you. She's earned that and more."

She touches Ronnie's arm. "Thanks for the great show. Best jazz festival I've attended," she adds.

"She's not mentioning it's the only one," Harvey teases and she hits him.

"Don't listen to him, Ronnie," she says.

"Being someone's first isn't a bad thing." Ronnie tips his head.

Donna raises her brow before they wave goodnights and goodbyes with Harvey chuckling under his breath.

"Now I see where you got your double entendre game."

"Jazz clubs and musicians when I was twelve."

"I always assumed it was boxing gyms."

"That, taught me how to fight for what I want."

Their eyes meet, and the Harvey Specter tenacity focused on her makes it hard to fully breathe.

"Hey Harvey!" Ronnie calls from behind them. It breaks their stare and he motions Harvey aside. Harvey lets her go long enough for them to exchange a few words.

They wave one last time and Harvey meets back with her.

"What was that all about?" she asks.

"It's a surprise."

She bends her head. "Isn't that what started this in the first place?"

"Let's just get to the car and go get ready for dinner. I've got the perfect place."

They immediately decide he should take the extra bedroom to get ready. Besides the fact it will get them to dinner faster, they're both aware that getting naked for a shower in the same room is going to end with no dinner and their situation in the same place it was the night before.

Which leaves her in the anxious position she's currently in. When she planned for the trip, she packed two sensible dresses, two casual outfits, very delicate lingerie, and one extra sexy and barely-there dress.

Being that this is dinner in one of the sexiest cities in the world, the latter is the obvious choice except, maybe she shouldn't give him the distraction.

In the end, she's staring in the mirror at her black halter dress with a half-length skirt. Her entire back is nearly bare, and her front is not much better. With one slip of his hand he can have access to pretty much wherever he wants. The thought makes her damp already and she's not sure how they're surviving the night.

Things don't improve when she walks into the living room and she sees him. He's leaning against the window frame, dressed in fitted black slacks and a navy slim fitting shirt, the first couple of buttons free. He looks like a god ready to take whatever control he wants and wow did she want him to. Even if it wasn't the best plan for the moment.

He pushes off the window, turning to her and immediately frozen in place. Except for his eyes, those were active and exercising themselves over her. His throat bobs and fuck are they in trouble if neither of them has control.

"Hi," she manages.

"Hello." He's grinning now, striding to her in a few steps. His hands take her waist.

She keeps her face even, forcing herself to stare into his eyes and ignoring the cologne that makes her want to bite his neck. "Are you ready for dinner?"

"I'm ready for something," he says with a smirk.

She bites the inside of her cheek, swallowing down what she hopes is the heat she feels in her cheeks. She allows a quick glance down and then is disappointed about what she can't see without being more obvious. She decides then and there they're horrible at keeping their want at bay. "I'm hungry," she complains.

"So am I." He's still grinning.

"Will you stop?" she scolds.

"You're the one wearing that dress."

"I didn't expect today when I chose it." She sighs. But she doesn't want to bring it back. "And you're wearing that."

He looks down at himself. "This old thing?"

She tilts her head. "Take me to dinner."

"Reluctantly. But happily." He holds out his arm and they make their way to the elevator.

Nothing tall seems very impressive when you come from a city built on heights. Staring up at the Stratosphere feels the closest thing to home in a desert that's stretched out and nearly all low. They step out of the limo he'd surprised her with and walk into the doors, just as Donna hears screams from the riders on the heart-stopping rides at the top.

They check-in and board the elevator, a long ride 106 floors up to the Top of the World restaurant. They step aboard the revolving restaurant with full-length windows sporting 360-degree views of the entire lit-up city. It's spectacular and the closest thing to a New York experience they can get this many miles from home. They can see the entire city in all directions.

"Harvey, this is amazing."

"So I was told."

They're seated directly beside a window, and the room turns at a slow pace. Before long they're served an appetizer of Filet Mignon Tartare, then Caprese Salad, and finally a collection of seafood and grill for dinner with copious amounts of wine. It's romantic and the food is decent considering their New York tastes and she feels completely right with him sitting across from her.

They're laughing and teasing freely and even if they're not touching on what happened earlier in the day, she's slipping into letting tensions go.

Soon the plates are near empty and taken, and all that's left is them and the wine. The realization that they're at the end of the night, looking like they are and feelings still tangled up lies between them in the stiff air.

His hand reaches for hers, resting on the table, brushing his thumb along the back. "I'm really glad you stayed."

"Me too." Because she is, even if she's hesitant believing they'll get to another place.

"Or came here at all."

She nods. It's everything she ever dared to wish for mixed with everything that made her afraid to dare at all. They're complicated and yet so right it's terrifying.

He's looking away, seeming lost in thought when a smile begins to form on his lips. He swings his head back to her. "Remember when we met and you said something about me not knowing how Donna you were?"

She looks away shyly. "Oh god."

"What?" he asks, tongue in cheek.

"Don't even tease, Mister I'm-the-best-goddamn-closer-this-city's-ever-seen," she mocks in a deep voice.

He tilts his head, annoyance behind eyes she knows are hiding amused.

"First off, I wasn't going to tease you," he states.

She shakes her head, not sure she believes him.

"I was going to tell you that when you said it, I had not a goddamn clue what you meant, but I was determined to find out."

"How 'Donna' I was?" She uses air quotes, a bit embarrassed he remembers her boldness.

"How you took down an overconfident ADA with a name and a face."

She shifts in her chair, aware of the fact that little grin of his is as much about the memory as his eyes peeling over her right now.

"Well, you're lucky I found your name before another hot-shot lawyer," she plays, sipping her wine.

"I am."

Their eyes meet. He's stacking up words that make her unsteady and soaring and she's losing the battle of flight over them. She tries to ground herself but when he's looking at her like that, their hands joined.

"You know, it didn't take me long to figure that out."

"How Donna I am?" She keeps trying for jest.

"How I could never chance losing you," he admits.

The earnest look on his face makes the air thinner and the room faint. Time seems to spread too far between their words.

She swallows. "Well you haven't. Lost me." She shrugs, eyebrow arching. "Much," she adds, thinking of Louis.

He frowns. "I made some mistakes along the way."

She pulls in a shaky breath. "We both did."

His eyes haven't left hers, sobering and serious. Looking every bit as handsome and lethal to her control as he always had.

"I'm sorry about the…" She pauses, rolling her eyes and pushing out a breath. "The contract. It was stupid and the only reason I made it—"

"You don't need to do that." He shakes his head. "It's not like I didn't enjoy it."

She tilts her head, shooting him a look which he returns.

He looks down, playing his thumb along the back of her hand. "I know I didn't tell you what prompted it." His jaw tenses. "I couldn't yet." He looks back to her, his eyes welled up.

"Harvey." Her heart begins to race, unaccustomed to dealing with this side of him. A lump forms in her throat, seeing how emotional this is making him. His solid walls threatened, near shaking trying to hold it back. She'd only seen him this way a couple of times before, always afraid to touch him and set something lose. It's so foreign, naked and touching him felt more in her element.

"I didn't even want to say it out loud," he starts, a break threatening his voice.

"What, Harvey?" she asks gently.

His eyes close briefly. "Do you remember my lawyer friend, Craig? From Boston? He came up a year or so ago and we had lunch."

"I made the reservation."

"His fiance died," he states with finality.

She stares at him, trying to read what he's getting at but drawing short.

He takes in a couple of breaths. "I met her," he continues with a distant smile. "At a Harvard thing. A redhead." He stops, a wistful smile forming. "Sharp, witty, lively. And absolutely beautiful."

His focus on her the entire time he's said it cause her lips to part. It's quickly obvious this isn't just about his friend. He's steps ahead of her again in this and she's struggling to stay with him. "She sounds amazing."

He shakes his head, lips downturned. "She could have been you." His eyes fill again. "Or me. And all I could think about is what we have. And didn't have."

The waiter comes by and Donna motions for him to fill their glasses once more and he looks between them with a nod and silently moves away. The city turns around them as Harvey unfolds before her.

"I fantasized about how to come to you. In a hundred different ways and just as many verdicts. Some of them worked out."

She smiles, because she'd had at least as many herself.

"And there we were that night. When I suggested this. You making everything better and there was alcohol and I just... fell short. I went for something easier. Wanting you. And then I hoped maybe you would figure out the rest."

Tears sting her eyes. "I can't handle that for you, Harvey."

"I know."

"I can barely handle admitting it myself," she chokes out.

"I never want to lose you," he blurts out. Emotional. Certain.

"I don't want to either."

The bill comes and with so much said, so much isn't. As the minutes pass, her fears wind her up again, what if's, what isn't yet.

They're Harvey and Donna and even though he told her she doesn't have to manage them, she's terrified without it. Donna always has a plan and suddenly they're vulnerable and planless and she's not sure how to let go without more.

They finish their third glass of wine and pay, and he takes her on a walk on the tower observation deck. They stop when they get to a quiet place, the wind whipping her hair and mussing his loose ones. He turns to her, hand cradling her face and eyes searching.

Her heart is pounding and unfairly not even from him looking at her this way, but sheer worry. He frowns, then leans in to kiss her lips. He's soft and reassuring, and then suddenly they're jolted apart by the screams of thrill riders at the top of the tower. They laugh, her holding her chest, seeing people swinging from The Sky Jump from around the corner.

"Suddenly a relationship seems a bit less terrifying." He chuckles.

She laughs with him, and they walk to get a closer look at the people free-falling and shooting into the air on repeat above them. She swallows, watching it come to an end and people looking exhilarated and free, fears foregone. She's envious, in the weirdest of ways.

And suddenly, adrenaline hits. "It does."

"What?" he asks.

"After doing that, a relationship seems less terrifying."

"Um, yeah, but… They probably make them sign an airtight waiver, in case they die."

She rolls her eyes. "Well in that case, the waiver wouldn't matter. We should do it."

His eyes grow wide. "Do...it?"

"Be terrified. Together. On that ride." She motions toward the one sticking up 160 feet in the air with people shooting straight up in it.

"Donna, are you okay? You seem a little—"

"You said yourself we're in the city of risks. Are you really afraid of a roller coaster?" she taunts.

"When they're 109 stories in the air I am," he says with annoyance, his foot stomping.

"We don't have to do the bungee jumping. Or the one that spins, or speeds you off the edge. Just the one that shoots in the air," she states plainly, even though her heart is racing. The more he protests the more she's amused. They're afraid, together.

"Why am I not reassured?" He rolls his eyes.

"You really won't do this with me?"

"You really want me to?"

She bends her head. "Didn't you ever go to an amusement park?"

"Not at the top of a skyscraper, Donna."

"So that's a no?"

"If I do this, can I work on getting you naked after?"

"That's the way to a girl's heart."

Annoyance passes over his face, his jaw tense. She's challenging him and she knows he hates backing down from one. Suddenly, he grabs her hand and drags her over to the ticket window, and she swears she feels seventeen again, but he's ten times hotter than her 11th-grade boyfriend, Danny Rifkins, and definitely has a better handle on his tongue game after.

Harvey signs the release without batting an eye and soon they're in line with tickets. They don't have to wait more than five minutes before they're seated in the next round, which is a good thing because after the last riders come stumbling off and shaky she's almost sure they should back out.

He helps her up on the seat and she realizes doing this in a flowy skirt is the most ridiculous idea of her life. She tucks it under her legs as best she can and he grips her hand tightly and rests it over her thigh to help keep it in place. The anchor over her chest she'll have to trust to keep her tits in her dress and not flash to their fellow passengers in the $24.95 souvenir snapshot when her hair's in the air and they're gifting their vocal chords to the night sky.

They wait for what seems entirely too long before the ride lights up and she hears 3 - 2 - 1 and she's shot so rapidly in the air her stomach barely reaches her before they're plunging back down again. Screams surround them, and she can't even catch her breath fast enough to scream as they're thrown up one, two, then finally all the way up again on the third push.

She's raising off her seat as they fall and she turns her head to see the widest grin she's ever seen on Harvey's face, watching her as she thrillingly laughs her head off from the rush. She's not sure how she breathes as the ride keeps raising them up in ultra speed and dropping them right back down. The sky and the lights far below streak in the speed and make her feel like she's flying and falling and in danger and living more than she's ever done in her life. With him. Afraid together. Letting go of control and completely risking everything.

He screams out on a surprise jump and she laughs all the harder. They're both intoxicated as they reach the ground, taking at least thirty seconds to orientate themselves again. They're nearly tripping over their own feet and more than a little green when they step off, chuckling and rushing away from the commotion.

They stop around the corner. She definitely feels seventeen again. Giggly with a guy, dressed too provocatively and probably shouldn't have had the drinks and food beforehand.

He's looking at her, laughing, eyes crinkly and full of light bouncing from the building lights. She joins him, not only from the rush coming down but from the sight of it on his face.

"Was that crazy?" she asks.

"Completely. But I'm glad we did it."

"Me too. I feel years younger."

"Like twelve of them?" he dares, and there's an extra twinkle in his eye.

She pulls in a breath and nods her head. Maybe letting go can cut through time.

"Are we done here?" he asks.

"We're just getting started. Take me back?"

"Mmmh," he steps closer, all humor lost. "Maybe we should cut out the drive and get a room here."

"Good thing we have a limo."

His mouth finds hers and then he's pulling away, looking around for the exit and leading her at a far too eager pace. They find the elevator quickly and the late-night provides an empty lift.

The door close and suddenly she's turning and pressed against the wall with his body and he definitely doesn't feel like eighteen year old Danny Rifkins.

His thigh parts her legs, his hand finding bare skin on her thigh and skating higher. He kisses her then, mouth and tongue hot and exploring hers. His hand squeezes close to her ass and his thigh adjusts until it's pressed firmly against her center. She moans out from it into his mouth. He pulls back, looking happier and hornier than perhaps she's ever seen him all at once.

He's thrusting against her leg now, building heat between her legs.

She feels the light change and her eyes jolt open, realizing the elevator doors opened and they're definitely about to not be alone.

"Harvey." She pushes on his chest.

He groans but pulls apart enough for them to disengage. He links their hands and they ride out the long way down, using all free energy to hold their bodies apart.

When the doors open he's the first to rush them out of the elevator. They make their way out of the lobby toward the valet and soon they're climbing into the limo.

As soon as the partition makes it to the top, she's straddling his lap. He groans, pulling her in as close as he can manage, tasting her lips and burying himself in her neck. She could almost come from how wet and hungrily he's devouring her most sensitive spots. His arms cradle her, palms moving all over her back as their kisses intensify, sucking in her lips, pulling her close.

His hands play at her thighs, pushing up her skirt, the heat from them causing her to shiver on their way up. He teases, slipping around to her ass and squeezing there. She curls herself forward, tasting that jawline and the stubbled underside of his chin. She can smell the evergreen scent from his soap and taste the sweetness of his skin. He's practically growling and the vibration hits her lips. She drags her open mouth along his carotid artery and back, keeping suction and pressing her tongue against his skin. His hips are shifting beneath her and she knows his groin is craving friction as much as she needs it between her own legs.

She can tell he's restraining himself, gripping fistfuls of her dress, his hot breath burying in her neck. Not wanting to rush when the drive isn't long enough to release more than quick tension.

This was a long time coming, not just about getting each other off, and not about letting go because she couldn't stand it any longer. This was about their bond, their need for each other, in and out of everywhere, and breaking down walls to show it.

When the car arrives, their clothing is mostly intact, and instead of the release of adrenaline, the headiness of desire makes it hard for them to not stumble out. They stay connected in every way they can, hands, arms, bodies, mouths. To outsiders, they probably look like all the lustful couples before them, but not many could claim the years and loyalty that made them more than an illicit tryst. Their worlds didn't run without each other, and the more they touched the more in sync she felt.

They reach their room, and as soon as they're inside she's walking inside but she realizes he's not following. She turns around to see him just inside the doorway. The seriousness on his face takes her breath away.

"Do you need anything?" he asks.

Her eyes search him and she realizes he's worried. Surety rushes her. The rest would come. "Just you."

And the admission brings him steps up to her, hands steadying each side of her face while his eyes scanned. Then his lips are on hers, so warm and full of certainty, anxiousness creates a firm rhythm in her chest.

She accepts it, his taking control. But unlike the night before, the trust she has in him, the reassurances he always gave her when she was vulnerable and the need to protect envelop her and all she feels is safe.

Their lips joining leave her light and featherlike and his hot breaths between kisses are never letting her hit the ground. She's practically a cliche because her legs can barely withstand her building desire. His mouth, his body against hers. Her need to feel completely lost in them has taken over and he meets every pass of it, lifting up her legs around his waist and she's thankful he's secure.

He takes them to the bed, dropping her there beside it. She's standing in front of full length windows illuminated by the colorful Vegas lights and from the look of him taking her in, she's the only view he's aware of. His hands grip at her waist and he kisses her again, with enough force this time she falls back but he's there to instantly pull her into him. Her arms circle his neck, desperate to ease this dizziness he's causing.

Maybe falling for someone so completely was a ride too.

She begins to unbutton his shirt, needing to feel him, see him. He helps her pull it off and it's her turn to gape at him. Fingertips tracing the outlines of his chest, brushing across his nipples. She sees his chest stagger as he sucks in a breath.

He grabs her hands and pulls her back to him. Then his kisses roam. Mouth below her ear, on her neck, her shoulder and in the V of her neckline, frenzied for her skin. She reaches around to unhook the clasp behind her neck and lets her top fall, a slight groan escaping his throat when he takes her in.

He skims his hands down her sides, outlining her breasts and landing at her waist to help her shimmy the rest of the way out of her dress. She's left in her black panties and he's leaning into her until she's on the bed, scooting herself to the pillow. He unbuckles his pants and pulls off his boxer briefs then climbs over her, fitting between her legs.

A whimper escapes her throat because this is the closest they've been to this, face to face. More revealed in tonight than being naked or making each other cry out had ever done before.

He's kissing her again, then presses between her legs and she's never wanted to shove aside lace more.

He adjusts on his elbows, arms looping under hers, his thumbs tracing her cheek. Faces level, he kisses her again, deeply, fully. Securely beneath him, feeling surrounded in lightness despite feeling herself drown in want.

He pulls back to look at her, emotion in his eyes and a crease in his brow that looks like an apology. "I've always seen you. I'm sorry if I… I wasn't there for you."

She smooths the creases with her thumb, a tightness in her chest. "You're here now."

He swallows and then he's kissing her, more urgently this time, tongue exploring her mouth and body pressing against hers. Naked skin smashed against naked skin. Heavy. Welcoming the solidness of him until she needs a deeper breath.

He shifts down her body, reaching her neck and chest, kissing the undersides of her breast and then swirling his tongue around a nipple. He sucks it into his mouth, rolling it along his tongue. Her body bends at the jolt it sends through her, needing his touch in multiple places at once. He tends to the second in the same fashion. He clit throbs each time his tongue flicks just right.

He moves lower, sucking just inside of her hip bone until her stomach clenches, then spends time at the inside of her thighs until she's arching her hips to beg for more. He peels back her panties until they're free and tosses them off the bed.

Then he climbs back between her legs. He sucks on her outer lips first, then drags a lick along the length of her center, circling his tongue around her clit a few times and then encircling it with his lips. She cries out into his suction, the intensity growing. He adds fingers, filling her, stretching even though she's over slick.

She threads fingers in his hair, encouraging his rhythm, their eyes locked as her pressure climbs. She begins to pant, legs barely able to contain their shake.

"I'm so close," she breathes.

He curls his fingers, rolling her clit in time and sucking a bit more firmly. Sweat beads on her forehead, the first surge of her coming heights begging her body to let it free. She succumbs with a flick of his tongue, freefalling like earlier but fully controlled by him. She's crying out with each tensing her body lets go of, until it's vibration reaching to all her limbs. He gently disengages from her, pulling out his fingers and sucking them between his lips.

He's grinning, never letting go of his watch of her face. Flushed and vulnerable, for him.

She's breathing hard, swallowing, trying to get her bearings. Needing him to pull her close. He kisses a path up her body and reaches her face. He lingers there, just long enough to tease her lips and tangle his tongue with hers.

Their nakedness and near connection makes her fraught to have him closer. No longer just about the release, but about needing him, his arms, his hands, his mouth, all harmonizing together to make the other feel wanted and one.

While her hands explore his back, his cock is pressing against her, making its need for more obvious. She reaches for it and rubs the head against her now oversensitive nerves. He takes over, sliding himself back and positioning. He watches her face as he plunges in, her cry and his groan meet from the intrusion. They stay there, him giving her a second to adjust.

He begins to rock his hips, filling her, each one making her ache. Her mouth falls open, letting her pleasure fall off her lips. He rests his head on her shoulder several times. Then eventually returns to her lips. Joined and consumed, each thrust another step to their joint ecstasy.

He adjusts his arms, looping them under her thighs until his arms brace them up, changing the angle so he's hitting her just right.

When he adjusts their angle with her thighs resting on his arms, she's cursing and crying out, moaning with each hit. She's never felt so stretched and full and right. Him so focused on their pleasure. Spending himself. To feel her, need her.

"Fuck, Donna." He might as well be running a marathon he's so sweaty. "You close?"

She nods, then reaches between them and helps herself along. Soon she's falling for the second time, and it's raw and euphoric and aches at the same time and in all the best ways.

He lets himself fully go inside her, shaky and hard and completely losing all handle on his cadence.

They tangle their bodies after, a mess from each other and not willing to let go. She's spent but serene, a discovery of what they'd both been seeking for longer than they had a name for it. The journey they'd managed side by side, falling to their knees at the oasis of them. Succumbing to it, together. When perhaps they wouldn't have been able to sustain much more without finding their way.

They sleep that night, in between kisses and caresses, entangling themselves into a single space. Suddenly touch becomes as needed as sex. They'd already earned each other's awe and attraction, and while the night provides opportunity for a few more rounds, it's the kisses and the promises for meeting up together when he gets back that fill her most.

Her body aches on the plane, from the separation, and from the sex. She's warm and floaty and it's more than she could ever have imagined letting herself feel.

They giggle and video chat when she's back in New York at far too late an hour. But she falls asleep assisted by him and orgasm, brought there by his rich voice and dirty words.

When she returns to work the next morning, she barely cares when Warren has her up to her shoulders in a non-stop stream of work. Her grins and good mood bring stares from her fellow colleagues, and she laughs and blames yoga even though the only stretching she did was naked with him.

She's just winding down for the day, looking forward to going home and sinking into a nice hot bath before Harvey calls, when Warren steps into her temporary office.

"Good evening, Warren," she says cautiously, reminding the man business hours are coming to a close. She starts packing up her bag as an extra hint.

"How was the first day in the new position?"

She almost grumbles her answer but then rethinks it, realizing it's rather nice having a boss ask. "It was busy, but productive. I think we've got a great list of candidates to interview."

"That's excellent," Warren says as he sits in one of the chairs in front of her desk.

She studies the odd man and realizes he's silently hinting. "Did you want to talk about something?"

"That sounds lovely."

She sighs, shaking her head at his odd way and sitting back into her chair. "What can I do for you?"

He opens his mouth and she holds up a finger.

"That doesn't involve more work for me tonight."

He grins. "No problem. I was just wondering how you're feeling about the offer."

She tightens her brow. "As I said it's going well."

Now Warren looks confused, the lines on his forehead deep. Then he's shaking his head. "Oh, no. I don't mean your temporary one. The Chief Human Resource Operator position. I know Harvey was reluctant with how long you've been working together, but with the 30 percent pay increase, I think it could be a great career move for you…"

The man's words fade away in her self consciousness and only get worse the more he speaks.

Chief Human Resource Operator? A 30 percent pay increase? And Harvey didn't mention it? She interrupts. "What day did you mention this to Harvey?"

The man is stuck on the pause, studying her when his lips press together. "When I told him about the offer for you to help with the hiring. The end of last week. He was supposed to present it to you. Did he forget?"

The blood drains from her face and the weight of him not telling her crashes into her chest. "He must have. Warren, I have to go. I— I have plans."

"Okay. Don't you want to hear more about the position?"

"Yes. Another time though. Goodnight."

She rushes from her office, leaving behind a chatty Warren and all of her trust and faith.

Harvey knew that day in the park. That's why he'd been so reluctant for her to accept the job from Warren.

He'd known all weekend and didn't mention it when they were fighting or when they made up or made love or any of the times after or in between.

He cares for her. She knows he does. He'd said so many things. Made so many steps. She tries to temper the building burn in her chest from the gulping ache she feels.

She looks to his name on the wall before she gets on the elevator. A title to collect. An accomplishment. Was she one? Another thing to hold on to, a challenge he could display and call won. Words thrown and words expressed over their days together battle on loop in her head. Maybe he'd never figure it out.

The panic in her chest is telling her it's all too late. All their progress is now crashing down and she's doing her best not to let the building sobs she's fighting not take control.

She gets home and skips the bath. She forces herself to breathe until she's rational again. She's not throwing this away on the words of a silly intruder to their firm and killing twelve years, even if keeping this from her to fill his needs made her want to. But she needs space, as big as the distance to Vegas for tonight because she definitely can't survive the confrontation on the phone. She holds down the power button to shut it down.

Tomorrow, she'd have to face this. But for another night in her thousands of nights shutting down her feelings for him, she adds another, this time with anguish that doesn't let her sleep.

A/N: I know, I know. Way too many months later and I show up with this update. Life got in the way and I was afraid I'd never get this where I wanted. Thank you so, so much for staying with this if you're still here. I've had so many over the last couple of years ask for this, and I apologize for it taking all the time it has. I appreciate every kind word. I hope it was worth the wait. I'd love to hear any thoughts.

Thanks to Elle for beta'ing and putting up with my sometimes(often) obnoxious self-doubt and reminding me I don't have to listen to it. You'll never realize how much it means to me.

Love, Blue