Page 57 of The Cajun Doctor

“Pretending I was in bed.”

“Why would you be . . . oh!” Her cheeks bloomed with color.

He put a forefinger to his lips, signaling silence, then put the security chain on the door and opened it several inches. “Yeah? What do you guys want?” he snarled at the two figures on the doorstep.

Surprised, they backed up a step. They had to have seen him enter a short time ago, but apparently they hadn’t been expecting a man to answer the door, or him in particular, as evidenced by Mutt’s remark, “You ain’t Angus Starr.”

“No shit, Dick Tracy,” Daniel countered, starting to close the door.

But the taller, scar-faced dude, Jeff, stuck his booted foot into the opening. “Wait a fuckin’ minute. Where’s Samantha Starr? Bet she knows where that stupid-ass brother of hers is, guar-an-teed.”

“Angus isn’t her brother, exactly,” Daniel commented, as if that mattered. “He’s actually the son of one of her father’s—”

Scar face made a growling noise.

“Why do you want Angus anyway?”

“None of yer damn bizness, you!” Mutt said, putting his hand inside his pants pocket, as if reaching for a weapon.

“Hold on. I’ll go get her,” Daniel said.

Stepping behind the door, he acted quickly. Messing Samantha’s hair into a sexy mess, he pressed her up against the wall and, before she could yell or kick him in the nuts, he leaned down to kiss her, hard and deep, even nipping at her bottom lip so that she would open for him.

Then he forgot why he’d made a move on her.

He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her, open and searching.

She made a low moan that encouraged him to do more.

Not that he needed any encouragement. With hair-trigger speed, he was in full-throttle sex machine mode. James Brown would be so proud.

She put her hands on his shoulders and drew him even closer.

He put his hands on her butt and ground his hips against her.

Those thoughts Daniel had entertained earlier today, about her height and his being a match-up in the sex department, turned out to be true. Breast to chest, belly to gut, thigh to thigh, cock to. . . .

Yeah, there was something to be said for similar physiques mating. An anthropologist could write a book on the subject.

Forget all the analysis. Daniel had never been turned on so hard and so fast in all his sorry life. He might have been a bit of a hermit these past few years, but he hadn’t been celibate, not totally, until recently. Sex was nothing new to him; he’d had his first two-person encounter when he was fifteen. He wasn’t in the same league as his brother when it came to the fairer sex, and didn’t want to be, but there had been more women for him than he could count on both hands since then. Not many long-term relationships, but that was unimportant. What was important was that he couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d gotten laid. More than a year, at least. Still . . .

But this . . . this was beyond imagination. In fact, his heart was thumping so hard, he feared he might have a heart attack, and didn’t even care.

Thump, thump, thump.

She licked his neck when he came up for a breath.

Thump, thump, thump.

He could actually feel her hardened nipples against his chest . . . or imagined he could.

Thump, thump, thump.

She raised one leg and rubbed her inner knee against his outer thigh.

Thump, thump, thump.

“Open this door, or, sure as skunks shit, I’m gonna shoot a hole in it big as that Angus’s fool head.”