But then Ford would be the only name in the history books next to the discovery of Chimalli. And Corrie couldn’t let that happen. Over her dead body.
She might have enjoyed his hands on her—no, not enjoyed, savored his hands on her—and her core might still be pulsing from the need for a release, but she wouldn’t let him put his hands anywhere on her after that. She was the one in control on this front.
“Fine,” she said, taking one step toward Ford.
“And you’re going back to camp?”
“Mm-hmm.” Another step.
“And you’re going to stay at camp?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And I’m not going to have to worry that you’re going to sneak out in the middle of the night?”
“Nope. I’ll be too busy for that.” Another step.
“Busy doing what?”
“Busy letting my vibrator go places I’ll never allow you to explore.” She smirked and brushed by him without waiting for his reaction, marching toward camp. Hearing his footsteps close behind her sent a satisfied grin spreading over her face.
With each step, the intensity in her core built up. If she couldn’t—or, rather, wouldn’t—hate-fuck Ford, she’d at least picture doing it while using her vibrator.
A few of the crew still lingered about in camp, but for the most part it looked like everyone had retired to their sleeping quarters for the evening. She marched right into her tent and tore off her clothes, changing into her sexy black lace bra-and-panty combo, the bra Ford had put his disgusting man hands over. Well, that would be the last time he’d get close to her intimates!
Fuck him and that obnoxious kiss.
Vibrator in hand, sexy lingerie on, and lying in bed, Corrie laid back and closed her eyes, picturing his annoying hard cock between her legs, and pressed the on switch.
Buzzzzzzsssssssss . . .
And like her hopes of visiting Chimalli’s home once more by herself, her vibrator died.
Chapter
Twelve
Selfish, little, troublemaking . . .
Ford paced around his bed, half-tempted to march over to Corrie’s tent to make sure she was actually there. Obeying his order. He should have sent her home. If it had been anyone else on this dig . . . anyone—Ethan, Sunny, Agnes—they would have already been on their way to the airport.
Why he was being soft when it came to Corrie was beyond him.
Well, no. No, that wasn’t true. He was being soft on her because of those soft lips that he desperately wanted to taste again. The soft breasts pressing against his chest. And her soft thighs, forming the perfect nestling place for his pelvis. It was all those soft things—which he would never have the pleasure of experiencing again—that had turned him into a soft, spineless weenie.
He closed his eyes and got a whiff of coconut. Bringing his shirt to his nose, he breathed in deep, her scent soaked into the fabric. His cock started to swell thinking about her.
No. No, he couldn’t let her invade his thoughts like this. He tore off his T-shirt and threw it on the bed as he readied himself for sleep. Stripping to his boxers, he climbed into bed and grabbed a book by the table next to him, trying to do anything to focus his thoughts away from her. But his cock throbbed, begging for a release.
He glanced over at the T-shirt at the foot of his bed.
Oh, fuck it.
He sat up, reaching for the T-shirt and bringing it to his nose. Breathing her in. His cock swelling. With the shirt in one hand, and his cock in the other, he lay back, slowly massaging his erection. Picturing his hand replaced with hers. Wondering what it would feel like with her lips trailing down his stomach and over the tip of his swollen head.
“Ford, do you have any—”
His eyes shot open to find Corrie entering his tent in only a purple robe, her eyes wide and shooting right toward his cock in his hand. Her mouth formed a smirk as she stared at him. With the fastest reflexes possible, he covered his crotch with the T-shirt and sat up.
“Get the hell out!”
“Well, well, well, Dr. Matthews. What do we have here?” She walked farther into his tent, arms crossed and sass in her step.
“I said get out.” He pointed at the door with his free hand.
“I’ll leave, I’ll leave. And let you get back to your . . . business. But I need some batteries.”
“I don’t have any fucking batteries. Now can you please leave?” he growled.
“But my vibrator died. And I don’t want to be the only one missing out on enjoying myself this evening. Don’t you have anything I can take the batteries from?”
“Are you serious right now? No. No, I don’t.”
“Well, can you order some for me? Triple-As.”
“Yes. Fine. I’ll order some.”
She stood there, watching him, the wheels clearly spinning in her head.
“Can I see it?” she asked.
He blinked several times, then shook his head. Was she asking . . . to see his penis? “See what?”
“Your cock.”
His head jutted out and his eyes widened. “You want me to show you my dick?”
She nodded, lightly brushing her fingertips along the neckline of her robe.
Was she for real?
“I can’t tell if you’re actually being serious right now,” he followed up.
“Dead serious. My vibrator won’t work until I get new batteries, so I need something for . . . stimulation. Is it still hard?” she asked.
He blinked again. “What? Of course it is. You’re standing there wearing that and talking about vibrators and cocks.”
The room fell silent as they stared, each clearly waiting for the other to make the next move. Contemplating what was on the other’s mind.
“Do you really want me to leave?” she asked, her tone shifting with the atmosphere. She was no longer goading him. She was feeling him out.
“Of course I don’t. Not when you’re wearing that and talking about vibrators and cocks,” he said with a smile.
She laughed and, God, it was sexy. “Okay, then, let me see it. I’ll show you my tits. I’m wearing that bra you liked, Dr. Matthews.”
He gulped. That bra. That black, lacy, flimsy bra that he’d thought about numerous times over the past couple of days.
“You realize that coming over here in nothing but a flimsy little robe is the opposite of discreet, right?” he asked with playful humor. “Less than an hour ago you were biting my head off and now, what, you want us to show each other our naughty bits like we’re a couple of kids hiding in a basement?”
She nodded and bit her lower lip, awakening his desires. His craving for her. Wanting her more than he’d ever wanted anything. And she hadn’t come here for some batteries. She’d come for him. She could deny it all she wanted, but she desired him, too.
He needed her to admit it.
“Corrie, why are you here? In my room, I mean.”
“I told you, I needed batteries.”
No. Not good enough. He had to hear her say it. He reached his hand under the T-shirt and started stroking his cock through his boxers. She licked her lips, practically salivating. Yep . . . she wanted him.
“Right, but you could have asked anyone and instead you came here. To me. After everything that happened tonight.”