She leaned over, placing one hand on the side of his head and the other on his chest. Her long locks fell all around them, shrouding his face in her coconut scent, intoxicating him more than he’d already been. She took his hand and placed it on her chest, and he massaged her soft breast, brushing her nipple between the pads of his thumb and index finger. Her delectable moans were pushing him to the limit.
“Ford . . .” she hummed. “Ford, you’re going to make me come.”
As if he needed any further encouragement. With one hand on her taut bud and the other guiding her hips, Ford drove into her until they both cried out in pure ecstasy. And Ford sank into complete and total infatuation.
Corrie Mejía could do anything she wanted with him. Chew him up. Spit him out. Fuck him hard then dispose of him in a dumpster. And he wouldn’t care one bit. Because being with her, even for a moment, was worth any and all devastation that might follow.
Chapter
Fifteen
Just five more. Five more minutes and then I’ll go to my tent.
Five more minutes in the warmth of his bed and with the hum of his deep sleepy breath. Five more minutes to linger in his juniper scent.
At least, Corrie only intended to rest her eyes for five minutes and bask in the after-sex glow. And bask she did. Sex with Ford was better than she’d ever imagined. He knew her body better than any man. Knew what she wanted. Knew how to please her. Perhaps the last several days of penetration-less foreplay had helped him learn his way around her body, but she’d never had such a relaxed, seamless, and pleasurable first time.
Or second time.
Or third.
But so much for her intentions. The early-morning stillness settled over the camp, leaving no doubt, once she flicked open her eyelids, that she’d stayed well past the five intended minutes.
The view was nice, though.
She admired Ford, still asleep next to her, and his flawless body. He was a sexy sleeper, if there was such a thing. Maybe other men were sexy sleepers, too, not that Corrie would know. No, she never let sex turn into sleepovers. Sleepovers led to morning coffee. Which led to breakfast. And eventually to reading the morning paper together with your feet propped up on the coffee table, a dog on the rug underfoot, and children screaming in the background. No, Corrie’s nostrings-attached lifestyle didn’t lend itself to forming real relationships.
This thing with Ford? It was absolutely not a sleepover. And it was absolutely not a relationship. Things were just different in the jungle. The same rules didn’t apply. Like in Vegas. Besides, like she and Ford could ever be in a relationship. Badass Mejía and Weak Sauce Matthews, the two most unlikely candidates for Couple of the Year. Corrie rolled her eyes and laughed at herself for the idea.
That didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the view for another minute or so . . .
No! You need to get back to your tent!
With subtle movements, Corrie rolled out of bed and searched for her clothes among the sea of discarded articles scattered about the floor. It had seemed so calm in the moment, so why did his tent look messy? Each movement had been fluid at the time—so . . . right. It was funny to see the aftermath this morning; their mess was a metaphor for their chaotic relationship.
No. Not a relationship. She needed to quit using that word. A relationship between the two of them was an impossibility. With their personality conflicts and Corrie’s aversion to feelings, not to mention the fact that they literally lived on opposite sides of the country, at best they could be sexy stopovers when traveling. Nothing more.
Why didn’t that sit right with her?
She picked up his T-shirt as she looked for her own, then brought the shirt to her nose, closing her eyes to inhale. The prior evening flooded back to her. The two of them in bed. Talking. Sharing. Comforting. Her heart swelled, recalling those feelings. The feelings of someone actually wanting to know her. Of seeing her for something more than a sex symbol or a bossy bitch.
Oh God.
Corrie had . . . feelings for Ford. And not just the kind that made her panties wet.
She tore the shirt away from her face and tossed it several feet away like it contained an infectious disease.
“Do I really smell that bad?”
Corrie jumped at Ford’s low timbre, shooting her gaze over to where he was watching her from the bed with his head propped up by his hand. His mischievous smile sent a warm wave over her body, pulling at her to climb back into that toasty bed and snuggle against his red-hot body.
“How long have you been awake?” she asked.
“Long enough to catch you judging my stinky clothes . . .” Far from it. Ford never smelled—not bad, at least. Even after long days working in the sweltering jungle, he still smelled delightful. “And long enough to catch you sneaking off.”
“I’m not sneaking.” She scrunched her face when she said that, since she had clearly been sneaking. “It’s just . . . it’s already getting light out and I should get to my tent before people start getting up.”
“What time is it?” he asked, motioning toward his watch on the table beside the bed.
“It’s a little after five.”
“That’s it?” he said, smiling and rolling out from under the covers, revealing his naked body in all its glory. There went Corrie’s feelings again . . . though this time the ones that got her hot. “No one gets up this early except Agnes.”
He reached over to the table for his glasses, sitting with legs spread on the side of the bed, his cock starting to stiffen. Why? Why did the gods tempt her like this?
“I see you looking,” he said with a smirk.
Corrie grabbed her shirt from the floor, then stood in front of him. “Well, Ford, it’s kind of hard not to when you’re sitting stark naked in front of me and it’s doing that,” she said, pointing at his growing erection.
“Well, Corrie, it’s kind of hard for it not to be doing that when you’re crawling around on the floor in nothing but your bra and underwear. Come here,” he said, pulling her toward him by the waist. She stood between his legs and looked at him, running her fingers through his hair and letting her shirt fall onto the bed as he massaged his hands over her body.
“Last night was nice,” he said.
“Nice? Wow, what a compliment,” she replied with a smile.
“I mean, the sex was incredible . . .” He flashed that sexy smile. “But I was referring to everything else. Thank you for making me feel better . . . for not leaving me to stew in my mind by myself.”
“Anytime.”
“Really? Anytime?”
Uh-oh. That simple one-word question held a lot of meaning. Ford wasn’t simply asking her if he could give her a call whenever he was down. No, his inflection signaled he was asking if there was something more to their situation. Something more than what was happening in the jungle.
As if he was curious about what might happen once they left.
Shit. Ford was developing feelings, too.
“Yep!” she said, leaning to kiss his forehead and shimmying out of his grasp. “Except for right now because I should get going before it gets too late.”
Like a Tasmanian devil, Corrie tore through the tent, Ford sitting on the bed all the while, silently laughing to himself as he also got ready, though with much less chaos. With a flick of her wrists, she twisted her hair into a high, messy bun, then squatted to lace her boots.