Page 172 of The Dixon Rule

Shane surprises me by lifting me up. Laughing, I wrap my legs around his waist and hold on to his neck. He carries me as if I weigh nothing at all and lays me on the bed so freaking gently.

“I’m not going to break,” I tease him. “I mean, I got punched in the face and survived.”

“Too soon,” he mutters. “Still makes me murderous.”

“Sorry.”

“You might have had months to deal with it, but I only found out this morning. It’s still fresh for me.”

“I get it. I won’t make jokes about it. I promise.”

“Thank you.”

His big, muscular body hovers over me, supported by his elbows. He starts kissing my neck and a shiver runs through me.

“Shane?”

“Hmmm?” His lips explore the sensitive tendons of my throat.

“Thank you for being there today.”

His breath is warm against my flesh. “You’re my girlfriend. Where else would I be?”

He didn’t say the word fake. Usually when we’re alone, we refer to ourselves as fake boyfriend and girlfriend.

Rather than point that out, I close my eyes and lose myself in his ministrations. His lips trailing over my collarbone. His hands pushing my shirt up and then his mouth coming down on my stomach to kiss it. He kisses my abdomen and my rib cage. The valley between my breasts as he slides my shirt off my neck. When I’m lying there in nothing but a pair of cotton bikini panties, he runs his hand over my bare legs, propped up on one elbow as he admires my body.

“You’re gorgeous.”

“Thank you.”

Shane’s eyebrows fly up. “Wow. You said thank you.”

“What do I usually say?”

“I know.” He snorts.

I shudder out a laugh. “You know I’m joking when I do that.”

“Yeah. And you know I’m dead serious when I tell you you’re gorgeous. Because you are.”

His hand skims upward again, flattening against my stomach as it climbs higher and higher until curling around my breast. He squeezes softly, fingers toying with my nipple. Then he lowers his head and slowly starts kissing my breasts.

Shane unleashes a flurry of sensations in my body. He leaves no inch of skin unkissed. It’s sweet and slow and exactly what I need. I’m gasping by the time his mouth finally travels between my legs. He plants a kiss over my underwear, smiling as he lifts his head, then slides his fingers underneath the waistband and pulls them off my ass, down my legs, and throws them away. He spreads me open and licks a sweet swirl against my clit before dragging his tongue through my slit.

“I love doing this,” he says hoarsely. “I love how responsive you are. The noises you make.”

I bite my lip as I watch him. He’s being so gentle. I know he probably thinks I’m an emotional wreck tonight, but I’m not. I would be fine if he wanted to be rough. But I don’t mind sweet Shane. I don’t mind these soft kisses. I don’t mind the tenderness of his fingertips as they dance along my hip on their way up to my breasts. With his mouth locked on my clit, he uses his other hand to ease one finger inside me. It’s the most exquisite torture.

“Don’t stop,” I plead as my hips begin to move.

“Never,” he promises.

When I feel the telltale tingling, pleasure rippling and building in my core, I start to squirm in agitation. My thighs tremble. Opening and closing of their own volition. Shane chuckles. He knows I’m close. And he knows what’s happening to me right now. That desperation I feel when I need it so bad but for some reason my body won’t give it to me.

He also knows exactly what I need to get there. He pinches my nipple and that’s it. Game over. The orgasm floods my body. Not an explosion but delicious waves of pleasure that languidly spread through me. I feel warm and cozy as Shane climbs his way up my body to kiss me. I taste myself on his lips when our tongues meet.

He cups my face, and I hook my leg over his hip. I’m completely naked, squished up against his fully clothed body.

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