Page 92 of The Dixon Rule

“No.”

“Just a little more hip movement,” I encourage. “You can do it.”

He growls at me. “I’m a hockey player. My hips don’t move that way.”

“I guarantee they do.”

I plant my hands on his waist, then bring them around to the top of his butt.

“Dixon,” he says in amusement. “What are you doing?”

“It’s all in the ass and glutes. I promise. Can I touch your butt?”

“Obviously.”

I slide my hands down so I’m cupping his buttocks. Jesus. This is the tightest, most muscular ass I’ve ever felt. I’ve dated athletes before, but Shane’s butt is something else.

“You have the ass of a marble statue,” I marvel.

He smirks. “I know.”

“All right, not to be crude”—I peek over my shoulder at the camera—“cover your children’s ears, people. But dancing is basically vertical sex. You’re too rigid, Lindley. You need to move your hips the way you would if we were…you know.”

His eyes gleam. “Are you asking me to vertically fuck you?”

“Shane,” I warn. I lightly smack his butt. “C’mon, let’s repeat that step.”

“While you squeeze my ass?”

“Yes, trust me. I’ll be able to show you how to relax the hips.”

“This sounds like the premise for a really bad porn scene.”

“You wish.”

After I count us in again, Shane thrusts his hips as if he’s trying to bang his way through my body. It rips a wave of laughter out of me.

“No, you have to roll the hips.” I squeeze the sides of his ass. “Here. Move from here.”

We try again, and this time his movements are a bit looser and less pornographic.

“See? You feel the difference, right?”

An angry voice interrupts our moment of progress. “What’s the meaning of this?”

I glance over my shoulder to see our neighbor Carla stalking toward us. “Oh, hey, Carla. We’re rehearsing for a dance competition.”

She crosses her arms over the front of her flower-patterned silk blouse. “Is one of the requirements fondling each other’s rear ends?”

“No, but it’s more enjoyable this way,” Shane says, winking at her.

My hands drop from the rear end in question. “Sorry. Nope. I realize how this looks.” I fight a laugh as I offer a fuming Carla a reassuring smile. “I promise we’re not engaging in lewd behavior.”

“You’d better not be,” she replies primly. “With that said, I will be raising this at the HOA meeting.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything else, Carla.” I give her a wave as she marches away in a huff.

“I don’t understand the people in this apartment complex,” Shane muses, watching Carla go.

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