Page 240 of House of Cards

“We’ve been through this. I’m not going anywhere.” She smiles at me in a way that makes my cock twitch. “Now come to bed, Monster,” Zoey teases. “I need to punish you.”

Six months of this and I’m still not used to it. The way she curls against me in sleep, trusting and warm. How I wake up, expecting her to be gone, only to find her lost in blissful dreams.

The way she sees me for who I really am…and not only accepts it, but relishes it. Like she’s smug at the thought that she tamed me.

She kisses me, soft and sweet, and the last of my resistance crumbles. Just like it did the night she forced that confession out of me.

…I love you. I fucking love you and it’s going to destroy us both…

“Oh, by the way,” she says, sliding off my lap, and stretching with a big, fake yawn, “I got my period today.”

“I thought you were only due to start tomorrow?”

She shrugs, grinning impishly at me. “Surprise!”

Every rational thought in my head evaporates.

A desperate need roars to life inside me, dark and hungry. A hard pump of blood makes my cock stiffen until my pants are bulging. I’m across the room before she can blink, scooping her up.

“You’re only telling me now?” I growl.

She laughs, the bright, happy sound sending a painful ache through my chest. “You seemed busy, m’lord.”

“There’ll be consequences.” I carry her toward the bedroom, already planning how I’ll worship every inch of her. “Do you have a headache? Cramps?”

“No headache, and the cramps aren’t too bad, but?—“

“But I’ll make it better.” I carefully set her on the bed and start undressing. “I’ll make everything better.”

“You know what I was thinking about while you were brooding in there?” she asks.

“What?” My voice is muffled as I tug my shirt over my head without bothering to undo the buttons first. She watches me strip, her eyes tracking the movement with lazy appreciation.

“How you looked at me that night.”

She mentions it almost as much as I think about it. We’ve had many sessions over the past months—Zoey’s body is a latticework of healing scars. Some permanent, some that will vanish in the coming weeks.

“How’s that?” I mumble as I plant tiny kisses along the arch of her foot, her ankle, her calf.

“Like I was something precious,” she purrs, back lifting from the bed as I tongue the sensitive spot behind her knee.

“You are.”

She rips her leg out of my grip. “Then stop trying to throw me away. I’m not going anywhere.”

I’m naked already, tugging down her shorts, hiking up her shirt. She moans as I knead her tits, then again as I tease them with my teeth.

We’ve had this argument before, and for once, I let it rest. I’m too hungry for her taste, her touch, her pleasure and her pain.

I lowers myself between her legs, guiding her thighs over my shoulders. She sighs as I pull her closer, as I breathe in her scent.

Still can’t believe she’s real. Can’t believe she convinced me to say those three words that night, to admit what I’d never admitted to anyone.

Can’t believe she stayed.

“I love you,” I murmur against her belly as I tease my lips down lower and lower.

“I know.” Her voice is smug, satisfied. “You told me, remember? Right before I made you eat me out.”

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