Shatter by Joan Swan

slide over her shoulders. The sight of it against her creamy skin, bringing out her light eyes . . .
    He sighed. Tightened his fingers on her waist. “I like it long.”
    With her head tilted down, she finger-combed the last tangled strands, then lifted those beautiful eyes to his. He had no idea whether or not the longing he saw there was real or fantasy. The majority of his blood was too far away from his brain to trust his intellect at the moment.
    She finally shook out her hair and lowered her hands, letting them rest on his chest. She was so close. So . . . real. And it had been so long .
    “Damn,” he whispered, suddenly breathless. “This is so much harder than I thought it would be.”
    Something sparked in her eyes. Maybe surprise, maybe hurt. But definitely something with a wicked little edge. She slid her hands up his chest and over his shoulders. The feel of her hands moving over him turned embers to roaring flames.
    “Because you thought you’d feel nothing for me?”
    As soon as she asked the question, Mitch knew exactly what kind of trouble he’d gotten himself into. The kind he sucked at getting himself out of—intact. Sucked .
    She followed the movement of her hands with her gaze as if absorbing the sight and feel of every muscle she traced. And he’d never been so intensely turned on by so little.
    “Because I’m just—” she started.
    “Halina . . .” he warned.
    Something flashed in her eyes. Pain . . . disappointment . . . anger . . . he couldn’t tell.
    “Exactly.” She stepped in and rubbed her body the length of his. The sensation blew his circuits, made his eyes close, and filled his throat with a groan. “I’m just Halina.”
    “Wha—?”
    His confusion shifted as she pulled back. Cool air filled the space where her body had been and brought with it as much discomfort as a cold shower. Mitch opened his eyes as she slipped out from between his body and the building and entered the office without looking back.
    “I’m just . . . Halina?” he murmured, but there wasn’t enough blood in his brain to untangle that cryptic message.
    Mitch pressed a hand to the wall, let his knees give, and groaned. With a few deep breaths of the cold night air, he was able to follow her into the office with painful steps and had the majority of his blood back in the right places by the time they reached the room.
    After settling Dex on the bed with an order to stay, Halina escaped into the bathroom for a shower. Which was when all Mitch’s red blood cells started to scatter again.
    He lay on the bed closest to the door propped up against the headboard with the hotel-supplied pad of paper on his lap, a hotel-supplied pencil in one hand, the other stroking Dex’s head while the dog lay next to him.
    He had scribbled a flowchart on the tablet, connections between the new information Halina had provided so far. That was his proof that he wasn’t lying there thinking about her naked body beyond that door. Or imagining the way she would look with water sluicing over all those sleek muscles. Or remembering the last time they’d been in a shower together.
    His groin grew tight again and Mitch returned his attention to the pad with a heavy sigh. Dex lifted those golden eyes to him, his brows darting.
    “I’m real fucked up, guy,” he said softly, running a hand over Dex’s head, stopping to scratch his neck. The dog’s eyes grew heavy. “That’s just no good. I gotta get my shit together.”
    The shower shut off and Mitch’s jaw tightened, remembering the way she’d slid up against him in front of the hotel. He focused on the paper beneath his pencil. Circles and arrows that were adding up to a lot of holes he still needed to fill.
    The bathroom door opened. Dex lifted his head and twisted to look at Halina the same time Mitch did. She was wearing a white hotel robe, her hair towel dried, tousled, and raven-black. Her skin had picked up some color in the heat of the shower, her cheeks glowing.