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his head.
    He tamped down on it. “Do what you need to do, Morelli. Just
get yourself and the others working with you out of there safely.”
    * * * * *
    After hours of carrying hazardous and explosive materials
out of the burning warehouse, Mitch felt as if he’d been sideswiped by one of
the fire engines. He leaned against the shower wall and let the scalding water
pour over his neck and back.
    Every muscle in his body still vibrated from the look Pearce
had given him when he’d walked safely through the doors of the firehouse—a look
that spelled out exactly what he planned to do with Mitch when they were alone.
    His cock stirred at the mere thought. Hell, he’d thought
himself too tired to muster any sort of enthusiasm but he was wrong. When it
came to Pearce Johnson, he was wrong about a lot of stuff.
    He’d expected Pearce to put him in the truck with him. They
always worked together, but now that they’d shared a couple intimate
encounters, the chief was pushing him away, holding him at arm’s length on the
job. That’s why he’d been shocked as hell when Pearce gave him that
bone-melting, ball-clenching, burning look. It was completely opposite of what
he’d expressed earlier.
    “Morelli, good work,” Luke called out, toweling his hair as
he walked out of the shower room.
    “Thanks.” He slumped forward and let the wall support him as
well as hide his erection. Thinking about Pearce in any way did that to him.
    Someone called from the outer room, “Chief wants you in his
office, Morelli.”
    His cock jumped, bobbing against his abs. “Wants you in his
office” instantly conjured images of Pearce seated at that big desk with his
pants around his ankles and his cock buried in Mitch’s throat.
    Quickly he switched off the water and wrapped the towel
snugly around his hips, hoping to hide his arousal. As he passed the row of
lockers and his pile of fresh clothes, he hesitated. Normally he’d get dressed,
but this was too good. Entering Pearce’s office wearing nothing but a towel
might land him in hot water—exactly where he wanted to be.
    He traversed the corridor to the chief’s office. When he
yanked open the door, Pearce spun in his desk chair, his gaze latching on to
Mitch’s and holding.
    Holding.
    Neither breathed. The pulse on the side of Pearce’s neck
fluttered erratically. Mitch longed to put his mouth over that spot and learn
the rhythm.
    “Why the fuck aren’t you dressed?”
    “Someone said you wanted me. I thought it best to
hurry.”
    Lust blurred Pearce’s eyes, but he quickly dropped his gaze.
It lit around Mitch’s thighs. He tossed a glance over his shoulder and cursed
the narrow window cut into the door. If not for that, he’d drop his towel and
give Pearce something good to stare at.
    “You feeling all right after the action today?” Pearce
asked, voice gruff.
    “Sure.”
    “No breathing problems? Feelings of euphoria?”
    Carrying those substances out of the warehouse might have
sent dust into the air, which could affect the whole team. “Nah, I’m fine.” He
perched on the edge of Pearce’s desk. His towel stretched taut against his
cock, making the outline of his erection plain.
    Pearce’s gaze flickered down and he gulped. Then his face
blanked, a mask replacing the hunger Mitch had glimpsed. “This isn’t the place,
Mitch.”
    “Yeah? Well, tell him that.” He nudged his cock and the
thick length bounced.
    Shoving away from the desk, Pearce jumped to his feet and
twisted away. “Get dressed. You’re dismissed.”
    A pang of hurt wove through Mitch’s chest. “Dismissed from
the house or from you?”
    Pearce whirled, jamming a hand through his very short, dark
hair as he did. “Dammit, Mitch, you know what I meant!”
    “Do I? Seems strange to me. Alone, I’m good enough. But
here, you’re afraid to even be around me. Partners. We’ve always been a team,
man. Now I think you’re ashamed to call yourself a friend.”
    “That’s not true.”