Page 105 of The Dixon Rule

He’s incredulous. “You really don’t trust that I’m attracted to you? Look at this.” He smooths his hand over his cargo shorts, stretching the fabric taut so I can see the erection pressing against it. “I’ve got a semi, and that’s just from you arguing with me.”

I almost choke on my tongue. That’s a semi? God, I was right. His generous penis is way more than generous. What’s bigger than generous? Considerable? Substantial?

“You like what you see,” he says knowingly.

Realizing I’ve been staring at his crotch, I wrestle my gaze away.

“Admit it. You want your hand to be the hand that’s doing this.” He cups his substantial package and smirks at me.

My throat goes arid. I cough when he starts dragging his palm up and down the length of him. “Oh my God,” I croak.

“Oh my God, what? Would you like me to stop?”

I’m glued to my seat, watching him intently. And I’m not even drunk. There’s no excuse for this behavior.

“Tell me to stop.” Desire etches into his features as his hand continues its lazy strokes.

I open my mouth. I want to try to form the word stop. But no sound comes out.

“You know what I think? I think you want to know what it’s like,” Shane drawls.

I gulp again. “What what’s like?”

“Being with someone when you’re not the one calling the shots in the bedroom.”

I don’t expect that answer. “What makes you think I call the shots in the bedroom?”

“Your personality.” He chuckles. Still stroking himself. And yeah, the bulge is even bigger now. He catches where my gaze has gone and arches a brow. “Do you want me to take it out?”

I manage to choke out the word “No.”

He drags his tongue over his top lip. “Okay. We’ll save that for later. Anyway, back to your bossiness in the bedroom.”

“I’m not bossy in the bedroom.”

He’s right, though. I do call the shots. I like to dictate encounters, control the pace. Percy was good at letting me do that. Initially I expected him to be more dominant because of his age, but he was fairly submissive in bed. If anything, he tried to make it more emotional. Softer. Whenever I wanted it to be dirtier, he’d make me feel embarrassed for even asking.

Shane isn’t going to be submissive.

And maybe that’s why I’m fighting it so hard. Because he’s not wrong—my entire body is on fire. I am wet, and my clit is throbbing. I want his mouth on me. I want his dick in me.

I cough again, squirming on the couch.

“Say the word,” he says mockingly. “Say the word and I’ll give it to you.”

Somehow, I manage to regain my faculties. “No.”

After a long, strained silence, he curses in frustration. “Fine. Then if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go next door and take care of this.”

“Fine,” I echo weakly.

And I stay rooted in my seat and let him go.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

SHANE

Anything is a tango thing if you make it so

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