“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.
Ford really wished he hadn’t told Corrie all that.
But too late for regrets. Now he needed to figure out how he was going to get his arm free from around her waist and his cock away from her before he had to explain his wet dream.
With the most minuscule of movements, Ford lifted his arm, inching from her grip. She stirred, wriggling her body against his, her ass grinding against his already firm cock. Oh God. Please don’t let me come right now. Ford closed his eyes, trying to think of anything and everything that could tame his erection, but she wouldn’t stop.
And then the moans started.
“Mm . . . Ford . . .”
Wait. What?
Did he hear that right? Did she moan his name while grinding in her sleep?
Her whimpers grew louder and faster. Oh my God . . . she’s about to orgasm.
Should he wake her? What was worse? Letting her finish, not realizing that he was awake and next to her, or waking her and possibly risking another moment like the one he’d had with Addison when he’d caught her in the middle of the act? Why didn’t they teach this in sex ed?
No . . . it wasn’t right. This was a violation of her privacy, no matter how much he enjoyed it.
With a quick tug, he pulled back his arm and her body stilled. No . . . it tensed. She was awake. Her head moved, as if she was scanning her surroundings . . . assessing how much he’d noticed.
“Ford, are you awake?” she whispered.
“Yeah.”
“Have you been up long?” Her voice was shaky. Maybe even a little nervous.
“No, not long.” Which, sure, was the truth. But long enough.
She twisted and sat up as Ford quickly pulled the sleeping bag over to cover his erection. Her hair was a mess. She was wearing Ford’s giant T-shirt. But she was still the most gorgeous being he’d ever seen. Like the way actors looked when they first woke up in the movies.
“What time is it?” She shifted her gaze around the tent, seemingly avoiding eye contact with him.
He reached into the pocket near the top of the tent where he’d tucked his glasses, then pulled his wrist to his face to check his watch. “It’s six thirty.”
“My God, I slept hard as a rock last night.” Did she have to talk about things being hard? “How early do you think we’ll head out?”
“Um, I guess we can eat something and then get going. No reason to stick around here much longer.”
Well, Ford could think of a few things they could do. She had been calling his name a few minutes ago.
“Well, I’m going to find a place to go to the bathroom.”
Ford didn’t budge until she exited the tent, yanking on his boxers to adjust himself the minute she was gone. What is wrong with you? He could sleep platonically next to a woman. Jeez, it wasn’t like he never spent time around the opposite sex. Half of his colleagues at Yale were female. And most of the nurses who’d been helping his mom. And he’d been around Sunny and Agnes every day for the last three months.
Though Agnes might as well have been his mom. And after knowing Sunny for a few years now, he was pretty sure she was more interested in Corrie than any of the other guys at camp. Not that he could blame her. Too bad Corrie wasn’t interested in either of them.
It was weird, though—Corrie being unattached was both surprising and unsurprising at the same time. Surprising because Ford would have thought men would be lining up at her door, dying to make her theirs. But unsurprising because Corrie wasn’t the type to belong to anyone. She was strong, independent, and could stand up to any man. It sucked that she didn’t get the respect she deserved.
Then again . . . men like Ford were the reason she lacked faith in herself.
He’d ogled her more often than he liked to admit. Heard every single one of those “jokes” about her, even the Lake Titicaca one. Failed to speak up when another man sexualized her. Pictured her naked and definitely had inappropriate thoughts when he’d read that magazine article.
Who was he kidding? He hadn’t read anything. I get it for the articles wasn’t a line that applied only to Playboy.
But worse than that—he’d taken what should have been hers. Taken the fellowship with Dr. Crawley. Taken the Chimalli dig despite knowing with one hundred percent certainty that she was the better person for the job. And he’d gotten those things easily. Things that probably would have gone a long way toward earning that respect she so desperately wanted. And all it had taken for him to get those things was some light convincing and a smile.
Too bad it had cost him six years with a woman who couldn’t have cared less for him and any chance he could ever have with Corrie. Sure, she already knew about the fellowship, though she didn’t know the full story. If she knew the full story, maybe she would get over it. And, in all fairness, she might have thought she had that one in the bag, but it hadn’t been a guarantee yet. She’d been close, but if all it had taken was for Addison Crawley to be interested in Ford, then Corrie probably hadn’t been as strong a contender as she’d thought.