Harvey's been leaning against her door-frame for at least sixty seconds before he realizes it could be perceived as gawking. He doesn't gawk, as a rule. He appreciates.

He wants to reign it in, the fondness that's flipped his insides out and wrecked him. Instead, the freedom of fully having her has ripped away all semblance of impulse control and he's as pathetic as he was at sixteen with the date of his dreams, with only slightly more propriety.

Donna finally glances up from the papers she's been engrossed in on her desk, her eyes tracing over his face. "Hi," she finally greets shyly.

"Hi." Throwaway words, and yet the energy they're blocking is filling the room.

"Did you need me for something?" she asks.

"I need you for a lot of things." He says as he takes a step further inside, pulling the door shut behind him. He lets body language signal the rest with an arch of his brow and a smirk.

There's a slight blush to her cheeks as she suppresses a grin, then she shakes her head and looks down again. "No."

The way her skin flushes when he wants her mesmerizes him. He bites back a smirk, pleased at how well she figures him out. "Why not?"

"Because we're at work," she says, words trailing off unconvincingly.

"Who says we have to stay here?"

"If anyone in this building knows about everything else you should be doing, it's me." She stands, holding out a file and a pen, and he signs quickly and hands it back. She places it in the tray behind her.

He's closer when she turns around, trying not to cross their old space boundaries, much. "But I miss you." He scans eyes over her, appreciating the shadow between her breasts in the low neckline and the smooth curves the black fabric follows. The lace panel that V'd down her back along with the slit trying to meet it had made him able to think of little else all day.

"It's not my fault you came to work looking like that." He motions over her.

"Of course it's not because you kept trying to take it off before I could even get out the door."

"Can you blame me? You look..." He pulls in a breath, taking her in. "Distractible. Sexy. Beautiful. Fu—"

She holds up a very severe finger to cut him off and the word fuckable hangs between them. "Don't say it." She tilts her head. "You really think sweet talk is going to do this?"

He shrugs. "Maybe. I'm still learning the ins and outs." He presses his lips trying to rein in his pleasure. About his double entendre, and everything else.

She shakes her head. "This isn't professional."

"Then we'll make it professional. We can each meet a client for a coffee. Maybe in a hotel restaurant. Then we can get a room—"

"You're really suggesting a nooner?"

"It's almost 2pm."

"You seriously can't wait until tonight?"

"Come on, Donna, you really can?" He inches closer with a step.

"You know, I was doing fine before you came in here. And now I'm..." She swallows a breath, hitched and pulling in sharply in a staggered way that reminds him of when she comes.

His brow draws together. "You like this. Me wanting you, appealing with my charms."

"Is that what we're calling them?"

He bends his head, leaning in even though they're daring stares with how close they are.

"Fine. It's nice," she admits.

"God you smell good." He brushes knuckles from her outer thigh over her hip, watching her eyes flutter closed and feeling his cock twitch. He finally rests just to the front of her hip bone where he wishes he could venture back down between her legs to see if she's wet.

She's still, her lips parted, their eyes locked on each other. He looks over his shoulder, nonchalantly, checking outside the glass. A moment where no one's watching.

A charge passes between them. He brushes down, over her sex, just enough of a tease so her breath catches in her throat.

"We can't leave at the exact same time," she manages.

"Meet me in the car in fifteen?" he suggests.

"So Ray can know what we're doing?"

"Like he doesn't already?" He cocks his head, contentment filling him up. "He's happy for us."

She's grinning. Openly. With all grace and so much beauty he can hardly breathe. He leans forward, needing to kiss her and cursing the world surrounding them because he can't yet.

"He's not the only one," she says, a shyness to it.

"No. He's not." Better than a multi-million dollar settlement. Or names in high places. He has all of his favorite part of all those things. Her.

He catches the eyes watching them as he's walking out. Suddenly the curiosity of the people around them feels good, even if they're not ready to share yet. Their questions of is there's something going on between the Named Partner and COO when no one is looking is so much better than anything their brains could imagine.

Meeting clients at the same hotel restaurant was a horrible idea. Harvey's staring several tables away. Flashing her smiles. Distracting them both. He's even sending her texts.

Harvey: I can't wait to get you alone.

Quit. This is the work half of our outing, remember.

Harvey: That dress you're wearing is almost cruel.

It's Givenchy and perfectly acceptable.

Harvey: All I can think about is how you felt this morning.

Now who's being cruel. It's hard for me to forget too.

Harvey: It's working on being that way again. Are we done yet? I'm dying here.

She clears her throat. Knowing she's been shifting in her seat way too much to pacify her own need. "I'm so sorry Karen. Something's come up. Do you mind if we take a raincheck on the extra coffee?"

Karen, the Program Director of the Matter Foundation is more chatty than Donna remembers from their previous meetings. She makes a mental note to stick to their offices.

"Oh, yes. Of course. I hope everything is alright?"

"Everything's great. I just have something demanding my attention." Donna dares a glance at Harvey, who's shaking hands with Jerry Fleming from Fleming Inc. She hopes to god the clients don't notice two senior members of their firm there at the same time.

She says her goodbyes and stalls until she sees both leave the hotel, then watches Harvey walk up.

He's wearing an embarrassingly-sized grin, looking her over as he approaches. She wants to roll her eyes because he's insufferable when he gets his way but she now has a vested interest in his successes again.

"You're ridiculous," she teases.

"What. We're doing them a favor. You know our rates."

"You know Louis wouldn't like this." She tucks her phone into her handbag, as they begin to walk in stride.

"Like he has any room to say anything. He and Sheila went at it like bunnies last year."

She stops, the back of her hand hitting him in the chest. "That's because they were trying to make a child."

"And I'm trying to make up for lost time. Too much lost time."

She tries to settle the butterflies the words cause in her chest. It's a battle between holding herself back out of habit and getting caught up in this new version of them. She hasn't figured out the line of keeping him on his toes or letting him pull her off her feet. "Are you ever going to last a full day without it?"

Something in his expression falls, making her feel a tinge of regret.

"I'm hoping I never have to."

She pulls in a breath and sighs, looking at him, letting them tangle up together in shared thoughts. Of course, they'd have nights apart or circumstances getting in the way. But the implication of them breaking apart stirs something between them. She smoothes out his tie, brushing a thumb over his cheek.

"I'd never want to either."

He nods. The reminder that this newfound utopia is fracturable shows on his face. They've talked about wanting this but words aren't forever guaranteed. She makes a note they both need more reassurances.

He leads her to the check-in desk where a young male clerk greets them. Harvey's already eagerly made a reservation and hands over a card.

"Do you have any luggage you'll need brought up?" Marco the clerk asks, an expectancy in his tone.

"No, we're fine," Harvey says.

Marco looks them over while Harvey initials by his address, which happens to be exactly blocks away. She smiles at Marco as he looks up, realizing he's clued into what they're doing. They're adults. And she'd normally own it and not care, but being it's Harvey and their entire world has been flipped less than forty-eight hours ago, she's a little anxious.

They're handed their key cards and are ready to head up.

"Have a delightful afternoon," Marco says as they leave.

Donna straightens at the words. "Did he just…"

"What?" Harvey asks.

"Delightful afternoon?"

"He was being friendly," Harvey says, shrugging.

"He better not be picturing me naked."

"Maybe he was picturing me naked."

She shakes her head and laughs. His hand goes to her hair, brushing it out of her face and she feels warmth in her cheeks. He's wearing this smirky little grin he hasn't often lost since the other night. The look is playful and content. Everything she'd always wanted for him and never dared delude herself she'd be the one to give. Every now and then she'd let herself dream. The reality is better.

The elevator dings, and they get on alone.

She steps up to push the thirteenth floor, and before she can turn he's at her back, a hand on each side of her waist. One hand links hers and the other travels up her spine, resting on her shoulder. His lips press into her hair and he breathes her in. She leans into him, needing to feel him pressed against her. He pulls back before she's ready, steadying her with their joined hands at her waist. She feels his fingertips trace through the lace, down the edge of one side where it met to the point in the V. He pauses there and then bunches the fabric until she feels a draft from where the slit in the back is rising up.

"Harvey…"

"If I could control this elevator right now—"

She spins around suddenly, pulling him down to a kiss. He cradles her head, gently at first until his mouth grows hungrier and then he pulls her close. She whimpers at the contact, her head already dizzy with flashes of him lit up by afternoon light, naked and ready hitting her thoughts without warning. Heat begins to mount inside her. Rising like her skirt when he raises her up by cupping her ass. Her cheeks spread from the contact, the stimulation in her slit making her want to beg while his hot mouth is sucking on her neck.

A few more floors. A short window of time. Intention of the moment. Anxiousness climbs, even if she's lost count of their times already.

The car stops on floor eight. The doors open and an older couple get on.

They've disentangled the best they could, Harvey landing by her side. He reaches for her hand, thumb brushing against the back. It makes her smile because it hits her how couple-like and normal this feels.

The elevator guests sneak several side glances and smiles. Maybe one day remembering a moment like this themselves. It could be them someday. Together for good.

The fact that they're not off limits anymore and he's hers to have in whatever way she wants hits again. She can grab, kiss, or touch him any way she wants. It flusters her in the most fucking idiotic, girly way. Having everything she's ever wanted. And not with a stranger but her best friend. Her soulmate. Her Harvey.

When they get to the thirteenth floor, he's instantly behind her when they step off. His hand finds the back of her waist and they're hurried.

She takes the key from him to try and speed up the process but his mouth is already on the back of her neck. His hands skirt against the outside of her arms, and he presses against her. His need is already rapidly ready and hers is jolting further the minute she feels him.

"I want you," she breathes out as soon as she manages to get the door open.

He spins her around when they're over the threshold, kicking the door shut. "It's been hours," he says with hunger right before he takes control of her lips.

How they'd waited thirteen years and now can't seem to wait more than half a workday, she'll never figure out.

In an instant, their bodies are joined, making her gasp for the oxygen he provides by being close, while his fervor steals it right back. A hand buries in her hair to angle her head and his other splays out near the bottom of her spine. Pulling her against him again, then again. Consuming her. The grinding brings her close before they've even started.

His tongue tangles with hers, making flames lick between her legs the way he's mimicking in her mouth. Whimpers pull out and her standing ability won't last unless he lifts her or she finds a landing soon.

She starts to help him with his suit coat, which he throws aside in the beginnings of their pile on a chair. His tie comes next and then she's helping him with his shirt.

His head nuzzles in her neck again, where she's quickly figured out is a favorite spot. Her hands run over each muscle in his back, taking her time to savor his arms while they feel over her. Goosebumps multiply like her freckles as he paths his way down her chest. Her nipples ache to be rolled between his lips.

His palms skim down her sides to her hemline, where he hooks fingers and lifts it up and off.

She sees him swallow as he drags his gaze down and back up again. The nerves inside bubble when she sees the way he's staring. Visually acknowledging every inch.

He begins to remove his pants and it's her turn to stare, want appreciating every inch of his value. His bulge is calling, aching and loud, making it a challenge to focus anywhere else except the strained cotton in his boxer briefs.

She removes her bra to get back to feeling him bare against her, then takes over the kissing. She's never wanted anyone before like she wants him. Nipples begging to brush against his skin. Body yearning and squirming on its own accord to get friction.

She palms him, squeezing and rubbing to feel as much as she can in the constricted fabric. His eyes fall shut, thumb brushing a nipple several strokes before pathing its way under the waistband of her panties. She sucks in a sharp breath when they part her lips, shifting and maneuvering space. He groans, a finger slipping inside.

"Fuck, you're wet." He works her with his finger, adding a second while she moans on shaky legs. His thumb teases her clit. Tapping and rubbing just enough to make her ache with need.

She doesn't play nice in response. A hand has found its way into his boxers and she's stroking his overly stretched cock, squeezing, exploring, making his hips jolt.

She tugs it, cruelly signaling the bed. He takes the cue, pulling away his fingers, her body protesting from the withdrawal. He hugs her close, walking them back. Skin to skin and chest to chest.

A want hits. To turn him on. Be in control. To watch him.

She spins them around, being the one to back him last second until the backs of his legs hit the bed. His brow is furrowed.

She helps his boxers down and quickly removes her panties. He takes the hint when she presses a palm into his chest, and slips up the bed on his back.

His cock is more than ready, upright against his stomach. Not that it wasn't its usual amount of impressive but what makes her swallow is his eyes intensely fixated on her, waiting to see what she did and how she looked doing it.

She climbs over him, straddling his hips. The look he's giving her is so familiar it catches her breath. A smirk, eyes twinkling and enjoyment crinkling around them. She'd seen it hundreds of times and she finally recognizes what it means.

Awe. Respect. Amusement. Need.

The appreciation he has for her fills her, almost too full. She bends to him, their kiss open and needing. An urgency inside them fully met while always pleading for more.

Her mouth finds his neck, teasing and sucking while he threads fingers in her hair and then smooths it out. The taste of his skin against her lips has already become so familiar. Firm but soft. Responsive and him.

She finds her way to his nipple, pulling it between her lips, flicking it with her tongue as it hardens. His eyes darken as she teases him. Her thumb finds the other. She can tell he's agitated with holding back control, his hips shifting for contact.

She raises up again, positioning herself lower to grasp him and begin stroking.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asks.

"You're the one that's been watching all day."

"Didn't plan on stopping." His voice is low, focus still lasered. .

He's smoothing palms up and down her thighs, reaching high and then dragging fingertips back down; teasing her.

She can see him panting, lips parted. And judging by her own headiness struggling to hold back.

His eyes are hooded with want. He curls up, reaching behind her ass and urging her to slide up. She raises and he helps position them, rubbing his head against her before he helps it slip inside.

The piercing feeling as she sinks to him hitches her breath. He fills her, without even lowering, stretching and invading, taking space and making her feel whole. She begins to move, working her hips. Her eyes close to cope with the intensity, lost for a moment while she adjusts.

He skims her arms, grabbing her hands to lead them to his shoulders, giving her a place to brace. His hands busy themselves with her breasts. Tweaking nipples, cupping them as they bounce. His hips begin to meet hers, causing her to gasp each time he hits deepest. Before long he's gripping her waist to get the maximum leverage, and he's hitting so deep she barely manages to continue her part.

He grabs her hand and presses it between them. She begins a rhythm on herself, letting him bring both of them closer. A current is building, a riptide between his tempo and the pattern on her clit. He's watching her still, vividly. Her face contorted with the battle inside. Over and over, the rush tells her to let go. She wills herself. Go with the tide and let it take her wherever it wants. He'd be there to catch her.

A panic tenses her up, fighting against the inevitable as the edge grows strongest.

She cries out when it hits, blackness and strong waves of pleasure gripping her belly and him inside her. Ending unknown, taking her again and again. He drives out her pulses with his thrusts.

When she starts to come back she sees he's close. His paces grows fast and frantic, messy in the chase to the end. A few dozen strokes are all it takes, flushed skin and firm kneads on her waist until his hips drop, with her still connected.

She falls to his side, craving to be closer, curled up in his strong and sweaty arms. Her head rests on his shoulder while he cradles her up.

His breaths are labored, chest rising and falling. His head turns, kissing her forehead. Their body heat together is making her hot but she still can't break away. Breasts pressed and resting against his side. Legs tangled up in his. The feel of her cheek against his skin.

She breathes in a combination of shampoo, aftershave, and deodorant working overtime from their session. His smells. In a way she'd never been privy before they started this.

They both sigh at the same time and it makes him chuckle. He rearranges, turning to face her and they do their best to connect limbs in the new position.

Eyes on eyes, lost like a dream. His thumb brushes her cheek and hers smooths out the beads of sweat along his hairline.

"You need a shower before we can go back," she says.

"I'm contesting it unless you join me."

"And chance you messing up this hair and makeup?"

"I hate to tell you this Donna, but it's already messed up."

"You better hope for both our sakes I have the right products in my Marni to fix this. People like Samantha and Gretchen would see right through a shoddy attempt."

His brow arches. "Was it worth it?"

She fights against the grin threatening to take over her face. "The ache and aftershocks between my legs say it was."

His mouth smooshes up in an overconfident way. "You have to be getting sore."

"Aren't you cocksure."

His face breaks out in a grin. "I don't think those noises were complaints," he teases, brushing patterns with his knuckles down her side.

"They weren't." Her hand roams the bare skin of his back. Strong and warm. Hers.

A stillness falls between them. A moment in time where their heads need to catch up with their emotions that have run ahead.

He shifts, his happy expression now lost. "I suppose we should start getting back."

Her heart aches, a ridiculous sadness building. "No, no. Don't move yet." She hooks his arms between hers, snuggling his shoulder.

His eyes narrow, a puzzlement in them. "No complaints here, but you were the one who was worried about work."

"I know. I'm just not ready yet."

He sighs. "Donna. Let's call in. Say something happened."

She feels guilt rise. "We shouldn't. We have to figure this out. Being apart for a day. We can't keep doing this."

He shrugs. "At some point the newness will wear off and you'll tire of me."

She wants to rib him, tell him something about being free tomorrow when she's got to help him calm down about a case. But there's something behind his eyes that looks like worry. "No I won't, Harvey."

"You putting that in a contract?" He teases, but it still doesn't reach his eyes.

"I didn't in twelve and a half years."

He frowns. "You grew kind of tired."

He looks away, and she turns his head back to her to make sure he hears it.

"Of waiting for this."

He shakes his head. "Donna, I'm sorry."

"We both played a role. And that's not why I said it."

"I know."

A silence falls between them. This is all new and despite knowing each other so well, they didn't know how to do raw openness together. It's all of why this was scary and all of why she knows she can't let this go.

"You want to talk about it?"

"What?"

She stares, waiting. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. She'd be offended if it wasn't so him. "We both know those comments mean something."

"I've always been afraid of losing you. But now…"

"The stakes are higher?"

He links their fingers, staring at them joined between them.

"We both want this," she reminds him.

"I know." He leans his head against hers.

"We work well together. And we don't exactly give up on each other easily."

"We don't." He pulls back, smiling softly at her. They'd been through more than their share of proving that.

"And I know we haven't gotten to the I love you part yet but—"

"I am," he blurts out.

For a moment she forgets to breathe, and her brain can't catch up with what he's responding to. She feels trapped, this time from an old panic, when her heart is free and ten steps ahead of her. She shakes her head. "Harvey…"

He takes a breath and pauses. "I mean… I don't think I've ever been before. But I do, Donna. Love you. More than anyone, ever."

She feels her lip shake. It takes a moment to get her bearings to respond. "I do too. Love you. So much it's scared me."

"You don't have to be," he says with complete conviction. "Ever again. I'd never hurt you."

Her throat constricts and her eyes well up. "I know."

His eyes widen, an almost annoyance in them. "Can we please call Louis and tell him we're not coming back? I think we've more than earned a long weekend for this."

She giggles. Maybe not even because it's funny but because there's so much emotion swirling inside she has to let it out in tears or giddiness. "I feel like this is college and I'm missing an important lecture to bang my boyfriend."

"That's what I'm hoping for." His grin is her most favorite thing in the world right now. "Someone else can take our notes for a change. We'll stay in bed. Order room service."

"And our clothes?" she asks.

"You won't be needing them." He rolls on top of her then, and the weight of him holding her in place is the only thing keeping her feet on the ground.

ANs: As always, thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed! I apologize again for the couple of unfinished fics I have. I DO plan to complete them, I just haven't put in the words to get them done yet. I appreciate you all more than you know.

This was written entirely by the coaxing and often times harassing by a few people who know who they are. Thanks for shoving me into the words. Thanks to Laura for the dress inspo! Thanks to mieh for always putting up with my annoying freakouts and somehow making me write again. Thanks to my lovely Bew0G for helping me catch all my typos and helping me not take things so seriously. XO's