Page 12 of Falling

“Hmm,” I say, tapping at my bottom lip with a fingernail. This might be a way to separate my feelings for him from my lust. If I can do that, we’ll both win.

“Geneva,” he warns.

“What?”

“The rules. Don’t you think they’re a good idea? You agree, right?” He glances at me again. There’s worry etched in the space between his eyebrows. He should be worried. I’m debating how badly I’m going to shred those rules into tiny pieces. “Geneva?”

“They’re certainly something.”

“But you agree, right?”

“More or less.”

“Fuck me,” he breathes as his hand runs through his hair.

Yes, Mr. Winsloe, that’s exactly what I was thinking.

five

GENEVA

I thinkI really did break Peter. He keeps giving me nervous side-eyes. He’s always been a little leery around me, but this is beyond that. Does he really think I’ll jump him in the middle of the California desert? Will I?

It’s not a bad plan. But not when he looks like he’s about to bolt. This is more of a game of cat and mouse, and I need to sharpen my claws first.

“How are you feeling?” I ask to break the silence. “Sore?”

“A little. How’s your ankle?”

“Same,” I admit. Some of the swelling is gone, but a nasty bruise wraps around it.

“Let me have your foot.” I move my foot to his lap. “Maybe if it stays elevated, it’ll help.” His hand mindlessly traces over the bruise. I don’t hate the feeling. He has large, strong hands that never fail to render me into jelly when they touch me.

“Hang on, let me grab something to entertain us.” Pulling my foot out of his lap, I swing onto my knees to peer into the back seat. I grab some of the magazines and puzzle books before falling back into the passenger seat. Peter’s gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white. Yeah, I know what my ass in his face does to him.

“Okay there?” He ignores me, and I slide my foot back into his lap. He lays his hand on it, continuing the slow circles. I doubt he even realizes what he’s doing.

“Here we go,” I say, opening the first magazine on my lap. “Do you have a type?” I flip to the page number of the survey. I bet he throws this copy ofCosmointo the trash next time we stop.

“Type of what?” he asks.

“Good try. First question.” He groans. “Do you use dating to find what you want in a partner or what you don’t want?”

“I…” He stops to think about the question. “I don’t know. I’ve gone on dates where we had nothing to talk about and some where it was all just talk. I didn’t find either woman physically desirable. That makes me sound horrible, doesn’t it?”

“No, I get it. So do you want her to be similar to you or different?”

“Different. I think I’d get bored if she were just like me. I already have two sisters that are similar to me, I don’t want a partner that is also. They do say opposites attract. Just so she’s not so different that I can’t relate to anything in her life.”

“Interesting,” I say. “Is that why your apartment is a revolving door of women?”

“Believe it or not, I’m not the manwhore that my reputation suggests. I think Rand started those rumors to make me more interesting.”

“One of the people in HR told me that the first time. I heard you had a three-way.” Even I know that one was totally fabricated, but why not throw that out there to see if he bites?

“From who?” He stares at me in horror. For a moment, I worry we’ll wreck. He shakes his head and returns his attention back to the road. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it though?” He glares at me again, so I move on. “So do you have a list of deal breakers or must-haves?”

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