Page 33 of Desperate Actions

My breath shudders out of me.

“You do?” I ask, and God help me, I sound exactly like the green-as-grass virgin I am.

He chuckles, but it’s dark, low, laced with hunger.

“Can’t you feel that I do?”

Then he flexes his hips.

And I feel it.

The hard, thick press of his arousal, nestled firmly against my ass.

I freeze.

His brows pull together, his hands tightening on my waist.

“What is it? Why do you look so scared? That guy won’t ever bother you again, Pixie. I made sure of it.”

“Oh, it’s not that?—”

He exhales sharply, his grip shifting. “Aella, I know what you saw was violent. ThatIwas violent. But I swear I will never hurt you.”

I shake my head. “It’s not that either.”

His jaw tics. “Then what?”

I hesitate.

Because this is it.

This is my most secret truth, the thing I’ve never told anyone.

And now, with Sammy Ramirez’s hands on me, his lips still warm on my skin, it feels impossible to say out loud.

But he waits.

Patiently.

His voice drops, soft, coaxing—but still edged in command.

“Tell me, Pixie.”

He shifts, his lips brushing my temple.

And I swoon.

“Tell me, and I’ll help.”

I squeeze my eyes shut.

And then, in a whisper, because I am too embarrassed to say it out loud, I admit the truth.

“Well, I just, um?—”

I pause for a deep inhale.

“I never,you know, with a guy.”

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