Page 69 of Desperate Actions

But before I can say anything, Coral steps in, rolling her eyes at the others.

“You guys, come on. Leave her be. This is all new.”

And thank God for her.

Because right now, I don’t want to answer questions.

I just want to get back to my husband. Away from all the noise.

I exit the bathroom first and almost bump right into him.

Sammy.

Standing there like he was waiting for me, like he knew I’d need him the second I walked out.

“Where you going so fast, Pixie?” he murmurs, his rough, familiar voice grounding me instantly.

I don’t answer.

I don’t think.

I just throw my arms around his neck, pressing myself flush against him, seeking him, needing him in a way that should probably terrify me—but doesn’t.

Sammy doesn’t question it.

He doesn’t hesitate.

He doesn’t ask what’s wrong or why I’m clinging to him like a lifeline.

Nope.

He just wraps me up in his embrace, powerful arms caging me in, shielding me, protecting me.

And suddenly, just like that—I am safe again.

I am grounded.

His fingers stroke the small of my back, a slow, lazy movement that tells me he’s in no rush to let go.

After a few moments, he leans back just enough to meet my gaze, searching me.

“Wanna dance some more?”

I shake my head.

“No.”

His brows lift slightly. “Then what do you wanna do, Pixie?”

I take a breath, release it slowly.

“I wanna go home.”

His expression shifts, sharp and focused.

“Back to the room?”

“Yes, for now, but I want to leave Vegas. I’m ready to go back.”

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