Raiders of the Lost Heart(45)

Corrie had never thought about life after Chimalli. Maybe because she’d never thought she’d actually have the opportunity to find him. What did she want to do with herself after that, assuming there would be an after?

“Then . . . I don’t know. But at least I have the freedom to explore the options.”

“I have to say, Corrie. You never cease to amaze me.”

“You’re amazed because I don’t want to be in a relationship and I use Tinder?” she asked, raising her brow and pursing her lips.

“No, I’m amazed because when I think I’ve started to figure you out, there’s something new I learn about you.”

Her insides tingled at the sound of him calling her amazing and at the look on his face. The genuine surprise. His sexy smile. She was amazed at herself, too—amazed at her incredible self-control in not reaching over and kissing those delicious-looking lips of his.

“Well, I guarantee I’m not as interesting as people think I am. I get home from work, watch TV, go to the grocery store, take walks, mow my lawn . . .” She tried to play it off.

“You mow your own lawn?”

“Yes, I mow my own lawn. Jeez, Ford. Don’t you?”

“No . . . but I live in a condo.” He stopped to laugh. “Seriously . . . could the two of us be more opposite?”

Corrie smiled. “Probably.”

“Thanks for listening to me. I haven’t actually told anyone what really happened with Addison, so it was nice to finally get it off my chest. Thanks for not making me feel like an ill-equipped doofus.”

“Hey, I have no idea what kind of equipment you’re packing under there and whether you know how to use it,” she said motioning toward his crotch, “but anytime.”

“And there’s that Corrie Mejía humor again,” he said with a chuckle.

“Would you rather I be more serious? Because I can do that, too.”

“No, I’m good with this amount of seriousness.”

“Well, then, I have to ask . . . how big was it? The dildo. I need to know what size I need. For self-defense purposes, that is.”

Ford laughed and buried his face into his hands for a second. “Oh God. Corrie . . . it was big.”

“Like how big, though? Like this big?” she said, putting her hands up.

Ford sat up and extended her hands. “Try more like this.”

Corrie’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Mm-hmm. And like this big around . . .” He brought his hands together in a circle.

“No.”

“Yes. So, you know, a total mold of the equipment I’m packing down here,” he said with a slyness in his eye.

A Corrito Burrito laugh escaped, and she had to cover her mouth so as not to wake Jon and Memo. It was still raining, but the rain was no match for Corrito. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re really hurting my manhood here, Corrie,” he said, jokingly.

“I know. I’m the worst.”

“Yeah, pretty much.” He smiled, and Corrie’s heart swarmed with all sorts of feelings that a woman who didn’t like relationships shouldn’t have. Feelings that made her wonder what it would be like to fall asleep in bed next to Ford like this every night.

Dangerous feelings that made her question her decision to remain single.

She was grateful for the darkness so he couldn’t see her blush, but she used every ounce of energy to keep from burying her face in the sleeping bag to hide her giddy smile.

“We should get some sleep. We’ve got a big day tomorrow,” he said.

“Yeah.” Though dammit if she didn’t want to keep talking to him all night.

Or confirm what he was packing down there.

“Thanks for being the worst.” He smiled again.

“Thanks for being the second-worst.”

“Look at that. You beat me at something.”

Corrie pushed her hand into his chest—his rather firm chest. “Yeah, and don’t you forget it.”

Chapter

Ten

Ford saved all his Indiana Jones–esqe adventures for his dreams. That was where he chased robbers over rooftops, swung from vines, and found lost treasure in ancient pyramids. He was always alone on solo adventures. And always came out on top.

But not this time. This time he was with Corrie. And this time, she was on top. Riding him with her gorgeous breasts swaying with the rock of her hips like the Ocean Motion ride at Cedar Point.

She leaned down to kiss him, her coconut-scented locks cascading around him like a fruity waterfall. The pressure increased in his cock. He was dreaming, but he didn’t want the dream to end. It was too real. It was like he could smell the coconut . . .

His eyelids slowly creeped open, and in his face lay a mess of wavy brown coconut-scented curls.

And pressed against his cock were her full, fabulous hips.

Fuck.

How long had they been sleeping like that? Spooning. It couldn’t have been the whole night. Ford had made sure to keep his distance, as difficult as it had been in that tiny tent and with her magnetism trying to pull him in closer. Surely after telling her about his inadequacies in the bedroom, he’d lost any chance that he ever had with her. She was a sexual goddess. She could have sex whenever and with whoever she wanted. And chances were, she had no interest in having sex with a man whose last girlfriend had described their sex life as boring.