Page 31 of Desperate Actions

I should be horrified.

But instead?

I’m so turned on I can’t think.

“Slide down,” he growls, and finally, finally, I find the nerve to lift my gaze to his.

Holy. Shit.

His hazel eyes are a storm—a wild, untamed mix of forest green and gold fire, burning through me, stripping me down to nothing but heat and want.

He hums low in his throat, and taps a single finger against my hip.

“Get in, Pixie.”

I blink, breaking from the trance of him, and see the waiting limo.

Without thinking, I obey.

I slide down the length of his body, every hard, unyielding inch of him brushing against my softer frame, and step inside. I swear I hear him whisper ‘good girl’, but I’m not sure.

Sammy is right behind me, though. Once seated, I hear him give the driver orders to take us back to the hotel.

I should say something.

Anything.

But I don’t.

Not until we stop at a red light.

Vegas traffic is just as bad as Manhattan’s, and the delay only adds to the tension crackling between us.

Sammy stares straight ahead, but his jaw is locked tight. His fists are clenched like he’s still fighting something inside himself.

I can’t stand it.

My hand moves before my brain fully registers the action.

I reach out and touch him—just a whisper of a caress over his tight, tense knuckles.

“Sammy.”

He growls my name, low and rough, and then he turns to me so fast I startle.

And then—he moves.

One second, I’m sitting beside him, breath caught in my throat.

The next, he drags me onto his lap, his arms steel bands locking me in place.

I gasp, hands splaying against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under my palms.

His fiery gaze pins me there, locking me in. Daring me to look away.

I don’t.

And I swear, I hear him whisper‘fuck it’right before he crushes his mouth to mine.

---