Page 27 of House of Cards

“Good night, Myles.”

“I need new Angels, Dom!” Myles calls out as I head out the door.

When I get back to the Devil’s Luck, it’s like nothing has changed. That’s the wonder of this place—it’s frozen in time.

Literally. No clocks, no windows.

No hint that the outside world even exists once you’ve walked through the tinted glass doors. It could be the middle of the day or the middle of the night and you’d be none the wiser.

The hotel rooms aren’t as ambiguous. With their floor-to-ceiling windows, they drag the outside in. During the day, light washes the suites. At night, every room has a panoramic view of the city’s sparkling lights.

I have a corner suite on the third floor, my door the only one down a long hallway to ensure maximum privacy. I give the Do Not Disturb sign hanging from the handle a rueful smirk before stepping inside.

Nice touch, Troy.

The city’s lights greet me as a sparkling tapestry through the open curtains.

When I step into the bedroom and see Zoey tucked in under the sheets, my body is suddenly begging me to join her. I tell myself it’s innocent—that all I want is sleep—but the closer I get to the bed, the harder my cock grows.

I don’t remember her being this stunning, with her mass of brown hair spilling onto the pillow, her creamy flesh blending with the white sheets. There’s a light dusting of freckles on her shoulders, and I’m obsessed with the thought of kissing them.

My hand reaches out before I know what I’m doing, gently easing the sheet down her arm.

I stop the moment I see what she’s wearing.

My eyes flicker up to my closet, one door ajar. Then back down to the t-shirt she must have rooted out of my things.

Why, just help yourself, kitten.

Fuck knows, I want to.

But the last woman who got this close left me with nothing but the bitter taste of betrayal, and a lesson I swore never to forget

That trust is a luxury I can’t afford.

And that my pleasure, when I allow it, will never be at the expense of my emotions.

I ease the sheets down a little lower, my jaw bunching when I spot a nipple through the thin white fabric. Grabbing my throbbing cock through my suit pants, I rub the pad of my thumb over her nipple.

The second that bud tightens under my touch, something unravels inside me. She’s asleep, her body splayed over my bed like she’s accepted she belongs to me.

But her body responds to my touch.

Christ.

My control, this fucking mask I’ve built for myself, slips just enough for the brutal thoughts always lurking beneath to claw their way free.

She’s so fast asleep, I could bend her legs open, push inside her, and she wouldn’t wake until it’s too late.

Will she struggle when she realizes what the fuck is happening?

I hope so.

I’m already toeing off my shoes and unbuttoning my shirt?—

My phone rings.

I flinch and hurriedly retreat into the hallway, shutting the door behind me with the flat of my hand pressed to the wood, grimacing at the lock engages with a loud click.