Page 36 of Desperate Actions

Then she takes my hand.

And the second her fingers slide into mine, I pull her out, leading her onto the sidewalk with purpose.

I start walking, dragging her along, and—like the idiot I am—I forget to explain a goddamn thing.

“Sammy? Sammy! What are you doing?”

She tugs at my grip, her voice pitched too high, too uncertain.

Aella sounds near tears, and fuck, I know I just screwed up again.

I stop.

Turn.

Move in real close so no one else can hear us.

Look her dead in the eye.

“You tell me you’ve been saving that sweet little pussy all for me, Pixie. That you’re completely untouched. Like you’ve been waiting for me.”

Her breath shudders as her pupils dilate, lips parting on a soft, helpless sound.

“I—I have,” she whispers, and something primal inside me unfurls, stretching wide, gripping deep.

I suck in a slow breath, steadying myself before tilting my chin toward the chapel door we’ve stopped in front of.

“So, what do you think I’m doing?”

Her gaze flicks to the sign hanging above us—Little Wedding Chapel on Main. Her pulse thrums at the base of her throat, hammering so hard I swear I can see it.

“What? I mean, why?”

She takes a half step back, bumping into my chest, and I feel her body quiver against mine.

Her celery-green eyes dart down, catching on the smaller signFifteen-Minute Weddingsbrazenly displayed in the window. Beyond it, a case of cheap gold bands glints under the neon glow of old Vegas lights.

I don’t need those.

I’ve been carrying around the perfect pair of rings in my pocket since I set foot stateside.

I pat the outline of them discreetly as I pin her in place with my stare.

I don’t blink.

I don’t hesitate.

“Because we’re gonna do this right.”

She sputters, fingers twitching in my grasp.

“Sammy, you don’t have to marry me. I mean, I want to be with you?—”

“Then doesn’t marrying me make sense?”

She swallows hard.

“I just meant, I mean, I would sleep with you anyway.”

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