Page 188 of House of Cards

Like I can stay this way for hours. No need to sleep, eat, breathe.

Just this.

Just her.

But, too soon, she whispers a fierce, “Fuck you,” against my mouth.

I pull away so I can see her face, make sure I heard right.

“Fuck me?”

She glares at me, shoving at my shoulders until I fall back. “Yes. Fuck you, you arrogant piece of shit!” Her fist slams into my chest, right where she stabbed me with that fucking fork. She pushes up onto her knees, laying another fist into my ribs.

I don’t flinch because it hurts, but because I’m so goddamn confused.

“What the hell?—”

She slaps me. Hard. Right over the claw marks she left in my cheeks. The ones Myles took one look at before smirking and asking if I’d caught the wild cat that attacked me.

Christ, it stings.

I grab her wrist before she can get in another shot, but she tries with her other hand, and I have to grab that one, too. When she tries to kick me or knee me or God knows what, I flip her onto her back and pin her down on the mattress between my thighs.

“Jesus fucking Christ, what’s wrong with you?” I grate out.

“You, Smith! You’re what’s wrong with me!” She struggles furiously, and I’m not sure if it’s just the play of light on her face, but it almost looks like there are tears trapped in her lashes.

“Just calm the fuck down.”

She goes limp, but there’s a hard frown between her brows. “What the fuck are you doing here?” she yells. “You’re supposed to be gone!”

I sit back on my heels, which is apparently a signal for her to struggle again. She rips one hand free and leaves a deep scratch along my forearm before I can trap her wrist again.

“Forgive me for assuming you’d want a last fuck, Patricia,” I growl, giving her writhing body a condescending scan.

“A last fuck? You thought I’d want alast fuck?”She lets out a strangled yell, struggling so furiously under me I nearly lose the grip of her hands again.

Swear to fucking God, it’s like she Freaky Friday’d with a rabid raccoon.

“Calm the fuck down!”

“Get out! Getout!”

She leaves me no choice but to drop on top of her, pinning her with my weight so she can’t gouge out my eyes. My head falls to the crook of her neck, my lips pressed to her ear.

“Shh,” I whisper, my arms caging her in, my thighs pressing her legs closed. Now all she can do is wriggle furiously.

Eventually, she stops. Her chest pushes against mine as she fights for breath, but I keep my weight on her, forcing her to breathe along with me if she wants more than a tiny sip of air.

“There’s my good girl,” I murmur.

“Fuck you,” comes her breathless whisper.

But her chest rises.

In, out.

Slower. Deeper.

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