Heat Behind the Cards

Rory POV

My first shift at The Siren’s Call was a mess of noise and nerves. The casino floor buzzed with slot machines clanging, people shouting, and cards slapping tables. I stood behind a blackjack table, my hands sweaty as I dealt cards to a row of players. My shirt was stiff, my tie too tight, and my stomach flipped every time I messed up. But the real problem wasn’t the cards—it was Leo.

He was everywhere. Across the room, checking tables, his black shirt hugging his chest. Every time he moved, my eyes followed. He’d shown me the basics that afternoon—how to shuffle, how to deal—and his hands had brushed mine too many times to count. Each touch made my skin tingle, and now, hours later, I couldn’t shake it. I was a wreck, and he knew it.

“Focus, Rory,” he’d said earlier, leaning over my shoulder while I practiced. His breath had hit my neck, warm and close, and I’d fumbled the deck, cards spilling everywhere. He’d laughed, low and rough, and patted my back. “You’ll get it, trouble.”

Now he was on the floor, watching me. I caught his eye as I slid a card to a loud guy in a tacky hat. Leo smirked, leaning against a slot machine, arms crossed. My face got hot, and I looked down fast, pretending to count chips. But I could feel him staring, like a spotlight burning through me.

“Hit me,” the tacky-hat guy barked, snapping me out of it. I dealt him a card, my fingers clumsy, and he groaned when he busted. “New kid’s a curse,” he muttered, tossing his chips down.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, my cheeks burning. I glanced up, and Leo was still there, his grin wider now. He winked, slow and deliberate, and my stomach flipped hard. Was he teasing me on purpose?

The night dragged on, and he kept it up. He’d walk by my table, brushing my arm with his elbow, pretending it was an accident. Once, he stopped to fix a chip stack, his hand lingering near mine on the felt. “Looking good,” he said, his voice low so only I could hear. My heart slammed against my ribs, and I almost dropped the deck again. He walked off, leaving me flustered and fumbling.

By the end of the shift, my legs ached, and my head was spinning. The floor was quieter now, just a few drunks at the slots. I was wiping down my table when Leo came over, his tie loose and his sleeves rolled up. His forearms were strong, veins popping, and I couldn’t stop staring.

“Good first night,” he said, leaning on the table. “You didn’t scare too many off.”

I grinned, my nerves easing a bit. “Thanks to you. I’d be sunk without the lessons.”

He stepped closer, his hip brushing mine. “You’re a quick learner,” he said, his eyes flicking to my lips. My breath hitched, and I froze, caught in that look. “Come on,” he added, nodding toward the back. “Help me restock. Shift’s done.”

I followed him, my pulse racing. We slipped through a door into the storage room, a tight space packed with shelves of liquor bottles and poker chips. The air was warm and smelled like whiskey. The door clicked shut behind us, and it was just me and him, alone at last.

He grabbed a box of chips, his back to me, and I watched his shoulders flex under his shirt. My hands itched to touch him, but I grabbed a bottle instead, pretending to check the label. The tension was thick, like the air before a storm. I could hear my own breathing, loud and shaky.

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” he said suddenly, turning around. His voice was rough, almost a growl. He stepped closer, and I backed up, my butt hitting the wall. My heart pounded so hard I thought it’d burst.

“Me?” I said, my voice squeaking. “You’re the one winking and bumping into me.”

He smirked, closing the gap. “Caught that, huh?” He was right in front of me now, his chest almost touching mine. I could feel the heat off him, and my knees went weak. His eyes locked on mine, dark and heavy, and my mouth went dry.

“Leo…” I started, but he cut me off, pressing me against the wall. His hands landed on either side of my head, trapping me. My breath stopped, and my whole body lit up.

“Been dying to do this,” he said, and then his lips crashed into mine.

It was hard and fast, like he couldn’t wait anymore. His mouth was hot, tasting like smoke and something sweet, and I melted into it. My hands grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer, and he groaned, low and needy. Our tongues met, sloppy and wild, and I moaned loud—too loud. His hand flew up, covering my mouth, and he pulled back just enough to whisper, “Shh, baby, they’ll hear us.”

My eyes widened, but I couldn’t stop. I pressed against him, my hips grinding into his, and I felt him—hard and ready through his jeans. He growled again, his free hand sliding under my shirt, fingers digging into my side. My skin burned where he touched, and I wanted more, so much more. I tugged at his belt, desperate, and he kissed me harder, his teeth nipping my lip.

We were a mess—hands grabbing, bodies rocking, the wall creaking behind me. His hand slipped down, brushing my zipper, and I gasped into his mouth, my head spinning. It was too much, too good, and I didn’t care who heard. I needed him, right there, right now.

Then footsteps echoed outside the door. Loud ones, getting closer. Leo froze, his lips still on mine, his hand tightening on my hip. My heart jumped into my throat, and we pulled apart, panting like we’d run a mile. My lips were swollen, my face flushed, and he looked the same—hair messy, eyes wild.

“Shit,” he whispered, stepping back. He adjusted his shirt, trying to catch his breath. “Stay quiet.”

I nodded, my chest heaving, my jeans way too tight. The footsteps stopped right outside, and someone banged on the door—three hard knocks. My stomach dropped, and I stared at Leo, wide-eyed. His jaw clenched, and he ran a hand through his hair, looking torn.

“Leo!” a rough voice yelled. “You in there? Boss needs you on the floor. Some drunk’s smashing slots.”

He cursed under his breath, his eyes flicking to me. “Wait here,” he said, his voice low and urgent. He grabbed my chin, kissing me quick and hard one more time, and my knees buckled. “We’re not done,” he promised, his breath hot on my lips.

Then he was gone, slipping out the door, leaving me against the wall, shaky and aching. I touched my lips, still tingling, and heard him talking outside, his voice fading. But then another voice cut in—deeper, angrier. “Tell me you weren’t with that new kid, Navarro. You know the rules.”

My heart stopped. Rules? What rules? I pressed my ear to the door, my pulse racing, and caught Leo’s sharp reply: “Mind your business, Frankie.” The name hit me like a punch—Frankie, the guy from last night? My hands shook, and I slid down the wall, my mind spinning. What was Leo hiding? And why did it sound like we were already in trouble?