Thanks to Pat for inspiring this on Twiter with the quote "how can she take my 'no' seriously when my dick is saying 'yes'?"

He can hear her heels clicking behind him as he leaves the elevator bank but he keeps walking, not ready to have the conversation he knows she's gunning for. He knew as soon as he left the conference room that she was going to follow him, but he'd hoped for a better head start.

"Harvey, we're going to have that talk, and we're going to have it right now."

He doesn't even turn, unwilling to get into this with her right now. "Donna…"

"No. It is one thing to take it out on me but what you did in that interview was horrible and selfish."

He rounds on her, her insistence getting the better of him. He never could say no to her. "Okay, you wanna talk about what happened? Let's talk about what happened. Because if anyone knows about selfish, it's you." He spits the words, furious that she's coerced him into having this conversation, and in the lobby of all places.

"You have some nerve saying that to me when you know I have put you over me for years."

"I don't care what you've done for years. You knew I was seeing someone and you did that to me anyway."

"I told you, Harvey, I needed to know."

"Know what? Our lines have been perfectly clear for a long time."

"Our lines are as blurry as lines can get. I'm the person you call at six in the morning. Or at midnight when you need someone. We smile, we drink, we flirt." She's not wrong. He's always sought her out, gone to her when he felt low, or lonely. And she's always been there. Never has she ignored his call, never has she been too busy. She's right. Their lines are blurry as hell and he's always been afraid of what it means. Afraid of what will happen if either of them attempt to change their status quo. And yet, that seems to be what's happening right at this goddamned moment. It terrifies, exhilarates and angers him all at once.

"That doesn't mean I want more." He's lying through his teeth. He wants everything with her. That kiss did more to him than he's willing to let on. At least, not until she admits what it did to her too. And at the very least, tells him why she did it.

"Well for the record, neither do I!" She reads his face, sees the surprise there. "That's right. I didn't feel anything when I kissed you, Harvey. Whatever I thought might be there, wasn't. So you can relax if that's what you're worried about."

He knows she's lying. She might be the expert at reading people, but he's the expert at reading her. She was as affected as he was by that kiss. He suspects that he's the reason for the lie. She's afraid to admit anything to him, especially while he's with… he doesn't want to think about her, but there she is nonetheless. And it reminds him why he was so mad.

"That's not what I'm worried about. You messed with my relationship. And now, I gotta keep a secret from Paula."

"No you don't. If it didn't affect you then just go ahead and tell her. You didn't do anything." She pauses and reads his face, and he knows she's trying not to look down at his crotch. "It did affect you, didn't it?"

"I'm human, Donna, what do you think it did to me?" He can barely believe he's just admitted that to her.

"That's not the same as feeling something."

He's angry that she's lying to him, angry that he can't seem to bring himself to tell her what he's really feeling, angry that they can't seem to just sort their goddamned shit out.

"Don't you get it? You made me the one thing I never wanted to be." He knows that reminding her of his mother is a low blow but he can't help it. Cheating is the one thing he's always avoided, and now he's ended up in this horrible situation with her, because of her actions, not his own.

"It was a kiss, Harvey! We've done more than that! Unless of course you haven't told her that either!"?

She's never looked more beautiful or vengeful than she does right now. That colour on her brings out all her best features and despite everything that's happened in the past twenty four hours, including the argument they're in the middle of, he'd move heaven and earth for her if she asked.

She's staring him down and he knows she can see that he's hard. Even just talking about last night has him reacting all over again and the rage she's emanating is somehow even more of a turn on.

There's a beat, where they stare at each other, eyes ablaze, hearts pounding, harsh words hanging between them and then it's as if a switch has been flicked, a flag waved, a gun shot, a light changed. They stride toward one another and collide in the middle of the lobby, their lips meeting messily, angrily, lustfully. His arms wind around her impossibly tiny waist and he pulls her closer, her feet leaving the floor even in her 5 inch Louboutins.

In an instant they're in his bed and he's between her thighs, licking, sucking, tasting. She's divine. Heaven and hell combined to create this woman, with her torturous beauty and heavenly scent. She's witty and she's strong and she's confident and she's kind and he can't believe he's waited so long to fully appreciate all of that.

But more importantly, he can't believe he's waited so long to taste her again. Twelve years and he's never forgotten a single detail of the night they spent together. He's thought about her many times over the years, especially when he was with a boring one night stand. Hot women may be hot, but they weren't always good lovers. Donna, however, had proven before and was currently proving again that she was both.

As she comes apart underneath him she lets out a string of expletives, intermingled with his name. The breathy moans and pleading tone almost make him come undone before he even gets to be inside her. She's the most erotic woman he's ever been with, and no one else has ever had this effect on him.

"Harvey," she begs sinfully and he crawls up her body and sheaths himself inside her with one hard thrust.

His own gasp wakes him up, and he's hard and hot and desperate for her. He's been having this dream every other night since it'd happened. It doesnt always escalate at exactly the same point, but it always ends with her in his bed and he always wakes up hard and wanting. He knows it's his subconscious exploring what he'd been thinking and feeling and he's so much more aware now of everything that had been bubbling away under the surface.

He can't understand how she believes he didn't feel anything. He also can't understand how she didn't feel his reaction that night that she'd kissed him. He was half hard within a split second of her lips touching his and if he'd had another second to be able to react he very well might have grabbed her and kissed her and never let her go. He also might have taken her home, which would have gone extremely badly, given what or rather who was waiting for him in his apartment that night.

It's been weeks since then, he's broken up with Paula, but things still don't feel right with Donna. When he'd gone to her apartment the night she resigned, she'd turned him away. But tonight he had plans to change that. He wanted to get back on track with her, and if things went well, maybe more than just back on track.

He heads home ahead of going to her apartment, planning to change and grab the bottle of scotch he's been saving for the right time. His plans are derailed when he finds her there. And not just her. Mike, Rachel and Louis are all there too.

"Is this an intervention? Because if it is, you might want to put those drinks away."

"Jessica told us what's going on, Harvey. And whatever it is she needs you for, we're here to tell you we'll take care of things back here." As she speaks he takes a good look at her. He'd seen her earlier in the day but in the soft light of his apartment, he's suddenly struck by how beautiful she looks.

"Are you sure about that? Cause I'm not."

"One thing I'm sure of is that none of us would be here without Jessica," Louis begins.

"And we're willing to do whatever it takes to help her," Mike jumps in.

They briefly discuss the particulars, and when he looks to Donna for confirmation, she gives him the slightest of nods, her eyes telling him everything. He's not convinced it's all going to work, but as their gazes lock he sees the faith she has in him and feels bolstered by it.

The others leave not long after, but she knows he wants her to stay. She's always known him, has always been able to read him so easily. And yet for some reason she hasn't picked up on what's really been on his mind lately. He chastises himself for a moment as he remembers just exactly what's been on his mind at certain moments, and then thanks every god that exists that most of those moments occurred while he was alone: in bed, in the shower, and once or twice on the couch in front of the fire. He couldn't help it if the fire reminded him of her hair.

When they're finally alone, he pours himself a drink and tops up her glass. She takes a seat on the couch and he sits across from her. They sip simultaneously and then she cocks her head at him. He stews for a moment, sipping from his tumbler again as a stalling tactic.

"What's going on, Harvey?"

"I'm not convinced that leaving right now is the best idea."

"Jessica needs you."

"You need me." He almost chokes on the words when he realises what he's saying. "You know, the firm… needs me…" he trails off, mortified. It's not something he's accustomed to feeling. Thankfully she takes pity on him and doesn't push, mock or linger.

"We'll be okay, Harvey."

The effect her words have on him is instantaneous. He sets his tumbler down and stands, pulling her from the couch to press his lips to hers. She tastes like scotch, and something fruity that he can't decipher but he doesn't get a chance to explore it because she wrenches her mouth away from his.

"Harvey, what are you doing?"

"I… you just… I mean…" he stumbles over his words and then stops, taking a step back, needing the distance to think clearly. He sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, reaching for her, his heart sinking when she steps back, further out of his reach.

"I'm going to go." She sets her tumbler on the coffee table and the clink of the glass on the table propels him into action.

"Don't."

"Don't what, Harvey? This is what we do. Things like this happen and then we ignore them, pretend they never happened, and carry on as normal." She shrugs and it sends a spike of pain through his chest.

"Don't leave."

"Why not?" There's a challenge in her voice but it doesn't quite match the look in her eyes. There's trepidation there, fear of the unknown. For once she's unsure of herself and the situation and he doesn't know what to do with that.

"Because I need to get on a plane tomorrow and I don't know how long I'll be gone. And I can't leave without telling you…"

"Telling me what?" Her expression has changed and now she looks resigned, as if she's expecting this to end badly. He hates himself for putting that look there, but he should have expected it. He's never lived up to this before, why should she expect anything other than cowardice from him? Not once has he ever given her any reason to believe that he'll actually follow through on the conversations he starts.

He tries a different tack. "Do you have any idea how incredible you look tonight?"

"Save it, Harvey." She rolls her eyes and he knows she's convinced herself this is a waste of time.

"No, I mean it." He takes her hand, holding it in both of his. She looks down at their hands, almost in distaste and he wants to throw up. This is not going to plan. Everything had been derailed from the moment he arrived home, but he's more determined than ever to finally say what's he's been holding on to for so long. "You're incredible. And not just tonight." He takes a breath and sees her face start to soften a little so he keeps going. "I can't go on like this anymore. I can't keep pretending we're "just friends" or "back to normal" or anything else. Because the only normal I want with you is one where I wake up next to you every morning. Where I can tell you every day how beautiful you are. Where I don't need to call you at six in the morning or at midnight when I need someone because you'll already be right there. You're the only person I want to tell when I have a huge victory or a terrible loss. You're the only person I want to come home to at night. You're it, Donna. You're all I need."

Her eyes are shining and he can't tell what she's thinking, so he tugs tentatively at her hand and she steps toward him. She meets his gaze fully and he sees it. She's with him. She's right here. And she's ready. He pulls her in closer and their lips meet again, soft, hesitant, nervous. But it's only a matter of seconds before they find their groove and the kiss takes on more meaning, more passion, more depth.

Her tongue sweeps across his lips, begging for entrance and he opens to her. If anything was a metaphor for what was happening between them, it was that. He was finally open to her, willing to let her have every part of him, both emotional and physical.

They part briefly, just long enough to communicate wordlessly, their eyes meeting for several long seconds before they come together again and this time there's a desperation in it. Hands are everywhere; roaming, grasping, stroking. He loses all reason and logic when her palms find the skin of his lower back, having pulled his shirt from his pants and slid her hands underneath. Her skin touching his is everything he's ever wanted and more and her hands on his back just aren't enough.

His own hands move to her back and fumble for the zipper of her dress, pulling it down slowly, far slower than he'd like to if he wasn't so concerned about ruining the garment and the wrath that would follow if he did.

She pants in his ear as he moves his lips down her neck, his teeth scraping her jugular as her hand finds his head, nails digging into his scalp and pulling at his hair.

It's then that there's a knock on his door. They part, shell-shocked and aroused, wide eyed as a pair of deer in headlights.

"The fuck?" he whispers and she shrugs, no wiser than he as to who would be knocking at his door.

"Ignore it," she whispers, hooking her fingers into the front of his slacks and pulling him back to her. But the unmistakable sound of the door unlocking has them springing apart as though an electrical current has passed between them. "Shit," Donna breathes, her hand reaching behind her to zip her dress whilst the other hand swipes at her lips, cleaning up the smudged lipstick in one swift movement.

Harvey is less smooth and simply runs a hand through his hair, messing it up further, not helping their case at all. Donna rolls her eyes and steps away from him, moving swiftly to the fridge and opening it, using the door as a shield to continue normalising her appearance.

Harvey turns to see Jessica rounding the corner and her eyebrows rise at the site of him.

"Found it!" Donna crows, holding a bottle of sparkling wine aloft, her performance causing Jessica's attention to shift.

"Are we celebrating?" Jessica asks drily.

"No, it somehow came up in conversation and Harvey mentioned he thought he had a bottle somewhere. I didn't believe him because... well, Harvey." Donn's acting is incredible, he can barely believe they were making out furiously only moments ago.

"The woman has a point, Harvey. Why do you have sparkling wine?"

"Well, you never know what a lady might want to drink." The second the words are out of his mouth, he sees the effect they have on Donna. It's as though clouds have rolled in and the light within her goes out as she registers the connotations to his ownership of the sparkling wine. She sets the bottle down on the counter and makes a lame excuse before grabbing her bag and walking out the door, leaving Jessica and Harvey alone.

Jessica doesnt say a word, just levels her gaze on Harvey. He knows exactly where he fucked up and she knows that he knows it. They just look at each other for a minute before she speaks.

"Are you going to go after her?"

"I…" he hesitates, looking between her and the door, torn between his mentor and his heart. She wouldn't be here without a good reason, but he also doesn't want to let Donna run away with her thoughts before he can finish explaining what he's been thinking and feeling for her.

"Boy, that woman has stuck by you through everything, and never flinched. You think now is the time to let her go?"

"It's complicated, Jessica."

"No, Harvey, its not." She smiles. "I'm not letting you get out of coming back to Chicago with me tomorrow, but if you need to go now, then go. She won't wait for you forever."

He throws her a grateful smile before leaping into action, grabbing his jacket from the couch, picking up his keys from the counter, and just before he rounds the corner to the front door he stops for a second. "Thank you, Jessica."

He hails a cab which takes far too long to reach her apartment, and the elevator ride is slower than a rainy week in January, but when she finally opens her door to his knocking none of it matters. She beautiful, her coat and shoes discarded but otherwise still looking exactly as she had when she'd left his apartment.

"why are you here?" she asks with scowl.

"I'm here for you. I'm here to finish what we started at my place."

"This isn't what you really want, Harvey." She folds her arms across her chest and he wants to scream in frustration. Two steps forward, one step back as always.

"How could you possibly think that?"

"You took the first excuse you could when Jessica knocked on your door tonight."

"How can you believe that when this should tell you everything you need to know?" He gestures to his semi-erect cock, the bulge obvious in his grey slacks.

The words send a thrill through her, hearing him talk like that, hearing him admit that she turns him on. But she pulls herself together, still unsure. "That's a human response. You said so yourself that night."

"No," he says, stepping toward her, pushing her further into the apartment, cornering her, "it's my response to you. Believe me when I say that my response to you isn't like the response I have to anyone else. When it comes to you, even before my brain realised what I wanted, my body always knew."

She feels warm at the admission. The subtext of what he's saying is almost too much to bear. He's telling her he's always been turned on by her. That his physical response to her has always been sexual. But the reality of that hits her a second later and she feels the energ drain out o her.

"Just because you're horny for me doesn't mean anything."

"Donna!" He's exasperated and it's clear in his tone. "It means everything! But you're missing what i'm trying to say?"

"Then stop trying and just fucking say it!" The words explode out of her and he has to fight not to recoil against them. Her eyes are alight, the fire burning in their hazel depths causing him to harden further. She's flushed and he's overcome with the desire he feels for her. He's never wanted her this much, he's never wanted anyone this much. One thing is for sure, even if this goes badly and he's sent home alone, he's having an orgasm tonight.

He lunges at her and fuses his lips to hers and while she begins to pull back at first, then she changes her mind and leans in, her arms winding around his neck. He licks at her top lip and she opens her mouth to him, letting her tongue slide sensuously against his. His hands fall to her waist and he pulls her in, pressing his erection against her, feeling the moan that rumbles through her but dies in her throat, unable to escape through her lips while they're still locked onto his.

He applies gentle pressure, encouraging her to move through the apartment, their lips disconnecting briefly, just for the few moments it takes her to lead him to her bedroom. He hasnt been in here since the other time, and after her remodel it looks completely different, but he doesn't have time to observe too much before she launches herself at him and they tunble onto her bed in a tangle of limbs and a laughter erupts from them both.

Harvey's expression turns serious for a moment and he studies her, brushing her hair back from her face in a surprisingly intimate move. "Are you sure about this?

She stares back at him, contemplating, reading his face. Apparently she sees whatever shes looking for because after a beat she nods, and then a wide smile graces her face. "Yes. I'm sure."

He cocks his head. "What changed?"

"You did. I can see it written all over your face. This isn't some fling for you. This is it."

"I still get surprised when you do that," he muses, his hand landing on her waist, stroking lightly against the smooth fabric of her dress.

"I know." She grins and lets her hand find the back of his neck, fiddling lightly with the short hairs there. "That's why I do it." She pauses for a second and then smiles wider. "Well, that and the fact that you still need me to explain your feelings to you on occasion."

"Hey, I've got better at that!"

"You have," she chuckles.

It hits him then how intimate this is. They're both fully dressed, and despite his raging hard-on, the conversation is innocent. They're lying side by side, faces only inches from one another, and every time she speaks her breath washes over his face in the sweetest caress. He feels as though he could do this with her all night, a direct contrast to his feelings earlier in the evening. The rollercoaster of the day is still in progress, the ups and downs of his emotions leaving him in freefall.

"What?" She has always been able to see right through him. She's studying him again, that intense look on her face as she reads what he's feeling.

"I just… is this weird? For you?"

She thinks, her brow furrowing lightly and he wants to reach out and smooth the thoughtful creases, even though it's cute as hell. "It's… different."

"You're not wrong there," he chuckles.

"I've thought about this moment so many times and this is never how I envisioned it."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" He can't help the boyish excitement he feels when she admits she's thought about them being in this position. He already knows she wants this, but to hear her admit that makes it feel more real, more secure.

"I just never imagined there to be so much talking. You're not exactly… loquacious."

"Loquacious?" He raises his eyebrows and she laughs, her breasts grazing his chest. He feels the brush and his attention is diverted, looking down at the cleavage on display. The freckled skin fades into creamy flesh that hints are far more than it would if she were upright. From his vantage point he can see an almost indecent amount, and then he almost laughs at loud at the absurdity of the thought. He's intending to see a lot more than that tonight.

"What did Jessica want?" she asks, and he looks back up to her face, guilty at being caught. She laughs. "I'm kidding, Harvey." Her expression sobers and she leans into him. "I don't want to talk anymore. Kiss me."

Her final words are muffled as he presses his lips to hers, his tongue finding hers immediately, tangling and stroking as he pulls her closer, his hand one again making short work of the zipper at her back and deftly unhooking her bra to allow himself free access to the smooth expanse of her back. Her own hands are busy too, Roaming his head, his neck, and his chest, as if she can't decide where to settle them.

He palms her breast and she makes a noise that's somewhere between a grunt and a moan and it's the sexiest thing he's ever heard. His hips jerk involuntarily and he fists then fabric at her shoulder, trying to pull it down her arm to free her breasts to his touch.

She pulls away and for a brief second he feels rejected before he realises she's standing, stripping her dress off, leaving her in only a pair of beige lace panties. She's impossibly beautiful and he admires her, his eyes raking over her near-naked form. Any small semblance of calm within him was gone and his erection was painfully hard.

"Your turn," she grins cheekily and he rushes to his feet to level the playing field, removing his clothing and dumping it unceremoniously in a pile on the floor. "Those too." She waggles her index finger at his boxer briefs, barely concealing his impressive manhood.

He stares her down, silently challenging her to come over and remove them herself. She does the opposite, teasingly sliding her panties off and kicking them toward him, leaving her bare to him. At the sight of her he drops his boxers and steps out of them, letting her take her turn to admire him.

He steps toward her and she steps back in a tease, throwing him a wink before laying down seductively on the bed, inviting him to join her with a raised eyebrow and a finger beckoning.

He's on top of her in a moment, peppering kisses all over her chest and stomach, taking his time to swirl his tongue around one nipple and then the other, drawing the most erotic sounds from her. He kisses his way down her body, skipping over where she wants him the most and giving her strong legs the attention they deserve. As he kisses his way up her thigh she says something vaguely threatening that he doesn't quite register but it's enough to encourage him to dive into her wet folds, sucking and licking and kissing every inch of her. He thrusts his tongue into her tight heat, fluttering it inside her until her hips jerk and he has to hold her down while he laves attention on her.

The first orgasm is a surprise, and he pauses to let her ride it out before continuing his ministrations to bring her a second climax.

"Holy shit," she breathes as her hips fall back to the mattress and he climbs back up her body.

"You okay?"

"More than," is all she manages before she's fusing her lips to his, their bodies pressed together as though they'll never part again. Her hand snakes between them and rubs at his cock, stroking the underside where he's most sensitive.

A strangled groan escapes him and she rolls them over so she's astride his hips, his hardness pressed between his belly and her wet core, and she's grinding, sliding sensuously back and forth.

She's a goddess, her hair tousled, her breasts bathed in soft lamplight, her taut stomach elongated, her eyes dark with arousal. She's beautiful and he tells her so. She smiles and it lights him up inside and he suddenly can't wait to make love to her.

She reads his reaction and shifts above him, gripping his shaft and positioning herself above him.

"Protection," he manages to croak before she sinks onto him and she shakes her head.

"Got it covered," she replies and then lowers her hips, taking in every inch of him until he's buried to the hilt. They let out twin groans as they finally join and once he's there he wonders why he's waited so fucking long for this.

She rides him and it feels like a metaphor for their relationship; her guiding and leading, he acquiescing to her, giving her control, looking to her for cues.

"You're overthinking," she says at one point and his eyes widen.

"I assure you I'm not." He looks down at where their hips meet, eyebrows raised. She pauses in her movements and leans down to kiss his neck, blocking his view of their union.

"Stop thinking," she whispers in his ear. "I'm here, I want this, and it's really really good. Stop thinking and just let me love you."

Her words travel straight to his groin and he follows her instruction to stop thinking, avoiding the temptation to ruminate on the wording she'd just used. He rolls his hips underneath her, grinding his pubic bone into her clitoris, eliciting a low moan from her.

"Yes," she all but whispers, sitting up and splaying her palms on his chest, bracing herself as she begins to ride him vigorously. He grips her hips firmly, guiding her, an equal partner. She tosses her head back on an uninhibited moan, the ends of her hair brushing his thighs and the feeling sends lightning bolts of pleasure through him, his hips jerking hard into her.

It seems to remind her of what she'd learned about him the last time they'd done this and she takes her nails lightly over his chest and stomach, setting his muscles twitching and clenching. His skin sensitive all over, he craves more of her touch, more stimulus, more of her skin on his.

Intuitive to him as always, she assists as her rolls them over, and as he settles atop her she wraps her legs around his hips, her heels digging into the backs of his thighs. He takes her hands and pins them above her head, gripping both her wrists in one of his large hands and using the other to skim her side, palm her breast and finally cup her face, kissing her deeply as he starts moving inside her again.

He pumps hard into her, watching her breasts move, admiring the way they bounce with every thrust. Her hair is splayed on pillow under her, the red locks a stark contrast to the white fabric. Her face and neck are flushed with arousal and exertion and her hips roll in time with his, bringing maximum stimulation for both of them.

She feels like heaven, surrounding him with her scent, her sounds, her taste. He prides himself on his stamina, he always has, but with her, everything is different. Everything has always been different. He knows it's not going to last as long as he'd like, knows the sensory overload is going to overwhelm him and push him off that edge sooner than is ideal.

He shifts position, creating space between them so he can stroke her clitoris, his long fingers splayed over her hip as he thumbs her in time with his strokes. The pleasure coursing within makes him want to close his eyes, but he keeps them open, watching her with lustful fascination, seeing her squeeze her breast, her other hand gripping a fistful of the sheet beneath her, her back arching and her head thrashing as she approaches her climax.

When she comes it's with a low cry, his name tumbling from her lips as she pants and writhes in ecstasy. He's spurred on and his own orgasm follows a minute later, spilling into her with a grunt and a handful of final jerking thrusts before he collapses onto her, shifting his weight to the side so as not to crush her beneath him.

They don't speak for a while, catching their breath, sweat-slick bodies pressed together, his length softening inside her. When their position becomes uncomfortable he moves, sliding out of her and she whimpers lightly at the loss of contact.

"Sorry," he whispers, and she shakes her head.

"Don't be."

"You okay?"

"Okay?" She turns to him, rolling to her side to look him in the eye. "I've never been better."

He studies her for a second and sees no hint of hesitation or regret. His heart swells as he remembers her earlier words; let me love you.

He settles his hand on her neck, his thumb stroking her jaw idly. "You know, before, you said..." he trails off, suddenly afraid of the words, worried that she didn't mean them.

"I know. I was in the moment."

"Does that mean you don't—"

"No," she says vehemently, "I do. It just means that wasn't the way I would have wanted to tell you."

"We're unconventional."

"That's one word for us," she says, putting a finger over his lips as he opens his mouth to speak again. "And I don't need to hear you say it." She grins. "You've never had to tell me a thing, I've always just known."

"So…. you know?"

"I do." She presses her lips to his, smiling into the kiss. His heart feels like it just grew three sizes and he thinks how apt that is, given his propensity to be a tad grouchy around Christmas time. He can't help it, he just doesn't have good christmas memories; most of them surrounding his mother and her indiscretions.

"Hey." her voice interrupts his thoughts. "Where'd you go just now?"

"Nowhere good," he replies. "But actually… I probably shouldn't have to ask this, because you're you, but how'd you know? That I was overthinking? Earlier, I mean."

"You were too passive," she replies. "My Harvey Specter is not passive."

"Your Harvey Specter?" He smirks.

"Mine." She punctuates the word with a kiss and he leans in, wanting more of her, needing more of her.

"You're so beautiful."

"You…you really think so?" She seems shy all of a sudden, averting her eyes, nothing like the confident woman he knows and loves.

He gapes at her, astounded at reaction. "Donna, how can you ask me that? You're the most beautiful woman in any room. You always have been."

"You've never told me that."

"I'm sorry." He strokes her hair back from her face, tipping her chin up so their eyes meet. "I should have. I've thought it every single day since we met. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever known and you deserve to know it."

"Oh, I know it," she sasses, but then her eyes cloud a little. "I just never thought you knew it."

"I'm sorry it took me so long."

He captures her lips again and they kiss deeply for a few moments, the taste of her causing his cock to stir again, sooner than he expected he'd be able to go for a second round. She pulls away, her gaze flicking downward to his burgeoning erection. Her hand snakes toward his groin, her body following until she's face to face with his rapidly hardening length. She licks him from base to tip and he groans loudly before she takes him fully in her mouth, beginning their second round.

…

He's bringing coffee to her when his phone rings the next morning. He asks her to answer and she picks it up, wincing when she sees the name on the screen.

"It's Jessica."

"Just answer it."

She answers while he sets the coffee down on the nightstand and then she passes his phone to him and he grins, holding it to his ear as he settles himself next to her..

"Jessica," he greets.

"You two sorted it out then?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he claims, his arm sliding around Donna, pulling her into his side.

"You two are in bed right now, aren't you?"

"I can't imagine why you would think that." Hes grinning widely and he knows she knows, but he's too happy to care.

"I expect you on that plane at 11." she hangs up and he turns his grin to Donna.

"Flight is at 11, which means we've got two hours to make the most of…"