Page 173 of The Dixon Rule

I sigh happily. “That was nice.”

I wait for him to take off his pants, but he stays fully clothed, lazily kissing my neck again.

“You’re not gonna fuck me?” I complain.

“Not yet.” His breath tickles my chin. “I’m just enjoying this.”

We lie there kissing for what feels like ages, until eventually he gets naked and eases his thick cock inside me. The feeling of him sliding in bare is utterly exquisite. I don’t come again, but he does, groaning into my hair as he shudders with release. Afterward, I leave to clean up and pee, then crawl back into bed next to him. Shane throws the covers over us, and I peek up at him, smiling.

“Are you staying over?”

“Mmm-hmm. Is that cool?”

“Yes.”

In the three months we’ve been doing this, we’ve never spent the night together. It’s been our way to keep it strictly friends with benefits. Or rather, friends with most benefits except for sleeping over, because that feels a little too intimate.

My head rests on his chest, and it feels so good to have him holding me. For a second, I almost ask him what we are. I’m no longer fighting my feelings for this man. I want a real relationship with him, yet I’m still not sure if he wants to be serious with me. But I don’t want to spoil the moment. We can get into that another time.

Right now, my only focus is melting into his arms. I don’t want him to leave tonight. And clearly, he doesn’t either because he snuggles even closer and doesn’t let go of me the entire night.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

SHANE

A weekend thing that weird people do

OCTOBER

IT DIDN’T EVEN OCCUR TO ME THAT I MIGHT HAVE TO MISS THE DANCE competition.

That’s right.

NUABC is scheduled in the middle of my hockey season.

Luckily—and I’m talking damn lucky here because Dixon would’ve straight-up murdered me—I think I can make it. The competition is in Boston and wraps up late afternoon, and the team happens to be facing Boston College that evening, so the timing lines up. Only problem is, I won’t be able to ride the team bus, and I’ll also have to go play a highly physical game of hockey immediately after an entire afternoon of ballroom dancing. I don’t know if Coach Jensen is going to be cool with that.

But we’re about to find out.

I rap my fingers against his open office door. “Hey, Coach. I need to talk to you about something.”

His eyes darken with suspicion.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because anytime one of you dumbasses comes to talk to me about something, it’s something that fucking annoys me.” He waves me in. “What’s this about?”

I stand in front of his desk, awkwardly sliding my hands in my pockets. “Um.”

“Spit it out, Lindley.”

“So there’s this dance competition,” I start.

“Fuck’s sake.” He puts down his pen. “See? What did I tell you?”

“Okay, I know that sounds…”

“Stupid?” he supplies.

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