She hadn’t wanted to leave. There was still so much to see and explore. But Ford was right. They’d be back in a few days with a crew and equipment. Then they could really dig down, no pun intended, into the mystery that had shrouded Chimalli’s life—and death—for hundreds of years.
It was too bad that by the time they returned to the site, Corrie would no longer have the peace that she’d felt being there with Ford. No, when they returned there would be more than a dozen people with them. With noise. And crowding. And protocols to follow. She wanted to be there alone, even if only for an hour. An hour with the adobe hut and the chilly cave. An hour to feel Chimalli in the earth and in the stone.
Though she’d be okay if Ford wanted to join her.
She hadn’t been able to get him out of her head all night. He’d invaded her dreams. Commanded her thoughts. His ex might have said he was boring in bed, but he sure as hell wasn’t boring in her dreams. No, the only thing boring was his cock pounding into her vagina. She’d almost come in her sleep. When she’d woken, she’d worried that she actually had. And with his demeanor that morning and the wet spot she’d had on his boxers she was wearing, she was only twenty-five percent sure she hadn’t.
But even worse than that—or, honestly, better—was the way he’d surveyed her when she’d lain on the ground next to Chimalli’s home. He’d saved her life. Yes, he’d saved her again. She could admit it. Corrie had spent enough time studying poisonous flora and fauna in the region, and Ford had had a coral snake in his hands without knowing it. That thing could have killed her with one bite, but Ford hadn’t even flinched. They’d have to be careful when they got back and warn everyone about the snakes. But for now, Ford was her hero.
Three times over.
Damn Jon and Memo for interrupting their moment. She’d been so close . . . not even ten inches from finally tasting him. Finally sealing the deal on that kiss. The kiss that had eluded her for more than eight years. And boring sex or not, Corrie wanted to experience it for herself.
It was too bad they weren’t forced to share that tiny-ass tent again. And now that they were back at camp, back with the other fifteen people on this expedition, their opportunities to be alone were dwindling.
A small part of her debated whether she should have told him so much about her sex life. It wasn’t like she’d given him any specific details, but she’d definitely come off as being more . . . active than him. In the last eight years he’d been with only one person. The number of men in her sexual rotation this year alone more than quadrupled that number. He’d seemed surprised that she was on Tinder, and though he’d said it was because he thought she’d been in a committed relationship, maybe she should have clarified that she hadn’t needed to use it for years due to said sexual rotation?
Or did that sound worse?
And this was one of the reasons Corrie didn’t date. Monogamously, at least. Because having to explain her sexual prowess wasn’t something she really cared to do. Not that she was ashamed of her sex life. Like she’d said, she was comfortable with her sexuality. And fuck those people who thought it was okay for men to sow their wild oats, but women who did were sluts.
For now, she wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. She merely wanted to scratch the itch that had been nagging her for eight years. And Ford looked willing to scratch that itch despite her sexual past.
All she had to do was find another opportunity.
They got back to camp around four thirty. It had taken them longer to get back than they’d originally plotted, meaning each day they’d have to account for two and a half hours of travel time to and from the site, maybe a little less on the days they weren’t carrying any gear. Moving the camp wasn’t an option unless they built their own road through the jungle—which was not something the investor had given them permission to do on his land. Corrie didn’t mind the hiking in and out from a physical standpoint, but in reality, it meant less time each day at the dig site.
“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” Ethan called over to them as he and Sunny emerged from his tent. It looked like they and the others must have just returned from working for the day packing up the old site, most of them covered in dust and dirt, sitting around the campsite relaxing. “Tell me you have good news.”
“That we do, my friend. Come join us in my quarters,” Ford said, his voice bellowing with pride and excitement.
“Quarters? Well, this must be good if we’ve upgraded from tents to quarters,” Ethan said, walking toward them.
They neared Ford’s tent, and Jon and Memo started to walk away, but Ford stopped them. “Where are you going? We need a celebratory drink,” he told them.
Jon and Memo perked up as if they were not only surprised . . . but . . . happy. Ford wasn’t dismissing them like a couple of peon workers. They were one of the team. Adventurers. Explorers. Friends.
They all ditched their bags on the ground and took a load off on the platform outside Ford’s tent while Ford went inside to grab the bottle. “Can someone grab some cups?” he called out.
Corrie ran to the mess tent and back, returning just in time to witness Ford emerging from his tent mid–shirt change. They were both filthy and hadn’t showered, yet Corrie would still drag her tongue across his abs right now if she had the opportunity. Why was the Lord tempting her this way? Dangling Ford and all his forbidden fruits in front of her.
Now that was an adventure novel that Corrie was in for: Ford and the Search for His Forbidden Fruits. No, no. Better yet: Badass AF Mejía and Her Search for Ford’s Forbidden Fruits. Had a nice ring to it. As far as Choose Your Own Adventures went, Corrie knew exactly which direction she’d be taking. Turn to page 42 if Dr. Mejía wants to research and look at boring, dusty maps. Or turn to page 69 if Dr. Mejía wants to explore Dr. Matthews.
“Earth to Corrie,” Ethan called out, snapping her out of her novel planning.
Her gaze shot to Ford’s. He was watching her as he buttoned the final button of his shirt. Stealing his abs from her view. But the glint in his eye told her, I saw you watching me.
And Corrie didn’t care. She wanted him to see. Wanted him to get the hint. Because she couldn’t go on like this forever. Couldn’t go on with this itch nagging at her.
She set the glasses down, and Ford poured a shot of rye into each glass before they all took one. “To all of us and the true first day in the quest for Chimalli,” Ford said, raising his glass.