Page 11 of Falling

He rolls on his back suddenly and sits up. Sadly, he’s very adept at keeping the towel positioned over his crown jewels. That’s fine, I’m more of a hip lady myself, and there’s plenty of it showing around the towel. I would sigh, but he’s staring at me like I’ve grown a second head. His mouth opens like he wants to ask a question, but he reconsiders before he does.

“Lie down on your back so your head is at this end of the bed. I’ll work on your shoulders and pecs,” I say.

He considers me a moment more before shrugging his shoulders. He winces at the soreness but lies down. Eyes the color of the ocean stare up at me as I rub the ointment bar over his pecs. They slowly close as my hands meet warm skin. I trace over the muscles with my knuckles the way my massage therapist does. His breathing grows shallow.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” he growls.

“Just pretend I’m some big sweaty guy working on you.”

“You’ll never be big and sweaty. More like a temptress in spandex.”

My hands freeze on his chest. Looking down at his face, I find he’s watching me again. It would be so easy to kiss him.

“Don’t,” he says like he’s read my mind. “I won’t want to stop.”

“Would it be so bad?” I know what he’s going to say, but I don’t let him get the words out. Will anything hurt as much as having my heart broken by Peter? I know I don’t want to find out. Before he can say anything more, I leave the room. I just take my hands off his chest and flee as fast as I can with a bum ankle.

“Geneva!” he calls after me.

I don’t wait. I hop one leg at a time up the steps to the bedroom with my stuff. We should move on as soon as possible. I’ll pack my stuff and we can go.

“Geneva?” he says, stepping into the room. I do a double take at him in nothing. The only thing providing any privacy is the towel he holds strategically in front of him.

“I think we should head to Zion. There’s no reason to stay here.” My eyes refocus on the bed. I throw my Dopp kit into my duffel.

“Okay.” He stands in the middle of the room, waiting for more. I can’t take a chance on telling him more. There are only two men in this world capable of breaking me. Peter is one. If I don’t let him in, then he can’t touch me.

We’ll get to Austin. He’ll go one way, and I’ll go the other. Soon, I’ll find some pretty boy southern charmer to hook up with. Peter will be nothing more than my business partner. And if you believe that, I have some lovely beachfront property in Arizona you might be interested in.

“I’ll take your bag down,” he says, wrapping the towel around his waist.

He takes the bag from my hand. His strong arms help me back down the stairs. Every moment he touches me is agony. When he leaves me on the couch to dress, I shiver. Not because I’m cold, but because I miss his heat. I can’t really explain it. It just is.

“Let me load the car. I’ll come back for you.” He picks up the bags and disappears outside. I’ve turned this into something awkward. “Ready?” he asks, stepping back inside.

I nod. He picks me up in his arms and carries me to the car. Carefully, he places me in the passenger seat.

“I’ll lock up and be right back.” The door closes with a resounding slam.

He stomps back up the steps to the door. His body language speaks volumes. He’s angry. I stare out the windshield as he slides into the driver’s side. We leave the cabin behind for the next adventure. We drive in silence for half an hour.

“I think we should make some rules,” he says finally. “Just so we keep things on a friendly basis from here on.” This should be good. “So there’s no misunderstandings.”

“Go on,” I say. Crossing my legs, I turn to glare at him. He used to shrink from my glares. Now, I think he enjoys them. I can’t wait to hear what rules he thinks I’m going to abide by.

“First, no partial nudity. No walking around in towels or underwear. That’s my fault.” He glances at me. “Absolutely no body massages going forward. I do feel much better though. Thank you. But I’ll just be sore next time.”

“Is that it?”

“No sexual innuendos. That’s also on me. It’s not appropriate when we’re alone. Also, no more surveys or articles about sex. Just leaveCosmoin the back seat from here on.”

“So no talking, touching, or reading?” I ask. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“You know what I’m saying. Nothing that hints at us having sex or thinking about having sex. No friends with benefits or fuck buddies or whatever you want to call it.”

“Damn, you sure have sex on the brain, Peter,” I tease.

He cuts a frustrated look at me. I imagine just talking about us not having sex has him hard. The poor man doesn’t realize he just threw the gauntlet down.

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