Page 95 of The Cajun Doctor

If men could separate lust from love, surely women could, too. Cosmo, and Hollywood, and the Internet certainly thought so.

Her reverie was broken by Daniel speaking. “Are you really balking about getting in a shower with me after what we just did?” He was leaning against the open doorjamb, arms folded over his chest. Nude.

She, on the other hand, was still in bed with a sheet drawn up to cover her intimate parts. He was probably laughing at her sudden modesty after the show she’d just put on.

“Of course not,” she said, still clutching her linen protector. “I’m not sure I want to get my hair wet.”

“Your hair is already damp from all this humidity . . . and our hot sex.”

“What if someone sees us?”

“Who? Angus and Lily Beth have a bathroom downstairs. I doubt whether they’re going to want to shower or take a bath in the middle of the night.”

Did he have to be so logical?

“All right then. Stay in bed, and you can play out my second best fantasy.”

“I’ve already heard all your fantasies.”

“Not this one. I was saving it for another time and a more adventurous partner. Anyhow, there’s this guy standing in doorway, very nonchalant, even though he’s just had mind-blowing sex.”

“Is he nude?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Horny?”

“As a bull during mating season.”

She made a prissy tsk-ing noise.

“So, this guy is just standing there, watching this red-haired lady who is sitting in his bed. She doesn’t know he’s there. So, she drops the sheet she’s been clutching like a virginal shroud and begins to pleasure herself.”

“Whaaat?”

“First, she touches her own breasts. Lifts them up from underneath. Then she fondles her nipples, even tweaks them a little. Her breathing gets heavier.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Thank you. She drops back onto the pillows and spreads her legs. Ever so slowly, her one hand moves lower and lower. Her hips rise and fall as she imitates the rhythm of sex.”

“I’m not listening.”

“She’s panting now as she raises her knees and spreads wider. Her fingertips brush over the curly pelt between her legs. There’s already a moistness there that—”

Samantha jumped out of the bed and stomped over to him. “All right. A shower sounds good.”

“I thought you’d agree,” he said, pinching her butt as she passed by, then taking her hand to lead her to the bathroom. Like she needed him to find the bathroom! He was probably holding on to her so she wouldn’t run away.

“How many of those fantasies do you have tucked up your sleeve?” She looked pointedly at his bare arms, sans shirtsleeve, and she amended, “Rather, filed away in your wicked brain?”

“Hundreds.”

“What?”

“Aaron and I used to memorize passages from Penthouse Magazine.”

“How old were you?”