Page 117 of House of Cards

Smith has a six of spades and a king of diamonds.

The player to Smith’s right busts. The one next to him stands at seventeen.

I nearly faint when Smith doubles his wager.

“What are you doing?” I hiss.

“Gambling. Try it. You might just like it.” Smith toys with the hem of my beige dress, as if he likes the feel of the fabric. My skin tingles wherever he touches, making it difficult for me to focus on keeping track of the cards.

Smith’s next card is a four of clubs. A rush of cold moves through my body. The only thing that can beat that is if the dealer gets twenty-one.

The dealer looks at me, and I wave my hand over my cards. I couldn’t even care if I’m going to win this hand or not. I just want to see what the hell the dealer has so I know if Smith’s won or not.

The dealer’s next card is a seven of hearts.

My heart takes a gallop inside my chest. “You won!”

Smith glances at me with a tiny frown between his brows as he absently accepts the stack of chips the dealer slides over the table to him. “That’s the point.”

I realize I’m acting like an idiot, and blush to my roots. Smith is still watching me as he fiddles with the hem of my dress.

The dealer takes back all the cards. I stare at the two chips still sitting on the table where she’d paid out my wager… and I count out three more chips and stack them neatly.

“Good girl,” Smith rumbles, arranging a much larger stack of chips in his wager box.

I feel giddy, and it has nothing to do with the large bet I’ve just placed. I’ve only just figured out that Smith has been inching my knee-length dress up my thigh this entire time.

His fingers brush my bare thigh. I inhale a sharp breath, catching a lungful of his earthy, sandalwood cologne.

Smith doubles down on his cards again, but I just wave away the dealer. I have eighteen, and that’s good enough for me. I should focus much harder on the cards being dealt, but my eyes are on the dealer’s slim hand with her plainly polished nails asshe hands out cards. And my attention is on Smith’s fingers, which have found their way between my thighs.

The dealer busts.

My heart thumps in victory. I leave the chips I won on the table, my hand trembling, knocking them over the more I try to stack them neatly.

This is insane. I could lose everything I’ve just made… and it’sa lot.

If Smith ever lets me walk out of this casino, out of his life…I’d have enough to repay Elonzo.

But will he let me keep it?

Will he ever let me go?

The heady rush of betting without a thought of keeping count is pumping adrenaline through my body, and that seems to intensify the pleasure of Smith’s fingertips gliding over my skin.

Smith barely glances at his cards when the dealer announces he has blackjack. His eyes are on me as I struggle to figure out what the hell to do with the pair of sevens I’ve been dealt. I could split, but I’m already at fourteen.

“Double down,” Smith murmurs, his hand skating between my thighs.

My clit goes crazy, tingling in furious anticipation of him moving the almost-inch he needs to touch me on that sensitive spot.

It’s not my money, it’s not my money?—

The mantra doesn’t make it any easier to slide over a stack matching that I’ve already wagered. The dealer draws one more card… a six.

My heart clangs in my chest as I throw Smith an incredulous stare. He has a full smile on his mouth—possibly the first I’ve ever seen on him. I see the dealer turn over her second card from my periphery, but I can’t look away from the dark magnetism in Smith’s gaze.

He brushes my clit, and instead of clamping my thighs closed to stop him, I inch my legs open. My breath sighs out of me as he strokes me. I know that the dealer is drawing herself another card, but my hooded eyes refuse to budge from Smith’s face as he works my clit into a slow frenzy, stroke after stroke.