Page 41 of My Big Fat Vampire Wedding

“You haven’t finished it yet?” he asked, walking over to pluck it off the shelf, opening to the bookmarked page where they’d left off.

She couldn’t exactly tell him that she hadn’t been able to bring herself to read any further without sharing it with him, but that she also seemed to be carrying it around with her like some sort of security blanket.

“Not yet,” she told him. “Things have been busy.”

“They’re not busy now,” Victor said, walking over to the couch, gaze scanning the pages from where they’d left off.

There was no way he hadn’t seen that it was the beginning of a detailed sex scene.

And he still wanted to read it. Aloud. To her.

She never crossed a room so quickly in her life.

Her belly was flip-flopping even as her chest felt like a thousand butterflies had started swooping as she lowered herself down on the couch beside him.

It was a small couch, so when she kicked off her shoes and pulled her knees up, she’d shifted close enough that they were touching from shoulder to thigh.

Feeling her, Victor sucked in a breath so deep his chest shook before he slipped a finger behind a page in the book, then started reading.

To be fair, while it was a spicy book, it was a bodice-ripper from the heyday of the eighties. Which meant that while it wasn’t closed-door, it didn’t have the explicitness that was typical of more modern love stories.

Still, Pandora felt herself pressing her thighs tightly together to ease the ache building between them as Victor read those pages, talked about desire and forbidden touches, of sighs that became moans, of shivers that turned into writhing and ecstasy.

If Pandora needed to breathe, she was pretty sure she’d practically be panting right then.

She was so distracted by her own desire that she barely noticed when Victor stopped reading.

His head turned, eyelids heavy, to look at her.

“You liked that scene, hmm?” he asked. Was it just her, or did his voice sound deeper, thicker than it had a moment before?

Pandora couldn’t even try to come up with any sort of intelligible response to that. Nope. All that came out of her was this low whimpering sound.

Victor’s eyes blazed in response as the book fell to his other side before his hands were grabbing for her hips, pulling until she had no choice but lift up, turn, and move to straddle him.

He didn’t release her, though, until he dragged her hips down, until her need was pressing down on his lap, meeting his own straining desire.

A shudder moved through him at the sensation as a ragged moan escaped her lips just a second before he claimed them, kissing her hard and deep, one hand grabbing the back of her neck.

The other dug into her hip, forcing her to rock once against him. This time, her moan was muffled by his lips as her own hips did another little involuntary wiggle, needing the feel of him, the friction.

Victor’s lips broke from her mouth, leaving her lips feeling swollen and tingly as his own slid down her jaw, then her neck.

A shiver racked her system as her hips did another rock against him. This time, she got that delicious little rumble to move through him as well.

If there was any question in her mind that he wanted her to continue, the way his fingers sank into her ass and dragged her against him was all the encouragement she needed.

His tongue and lips and teeth explored her neck as she carried on rocking against him, driving herself up against his hard desire until there was a tightening in her core, until her moans were growing louder.

Victor’s head lifted, sensing how close she was, wanting to watch her as she rocked against him one more time, making the orgasm crash through her over and over.

Pandora fell forward, pressing her face into his neck, breathing him in, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat against her lips as the pleasure pulsed through her.

When the fog of her own climax finally pulled backward, she felt the way his fingers were still digging possessively into her ass, how his heartbeat was hammering against his chest, how his need was still straining against her.

She kissed his neck.

Traced the pulse point with her tongue.

Maybe even teased the tips of her fangs against his heated skin.

But then she was sliding back off of his lap, lowering herself down between his spread thighs.

Looking up, she found his eyes molten as he watched her.

Anticipation had her belly flipping as her hands slid up his thighs, moved across his lap, worked his button and zipper free, then slipped inside to take him in her hand.

A little whimper escaped her at the thick length of him as she pulled him free of the material.

At her touch, Victor’s muscles tensed, his breath exhaled shakily, his hand slapped down on her shoulder, fingers digging in. But not pulling her closer, letting her lead.

Not that she needed any encouragement.

Not when she had him like this.

Literally in the palm of her hand.

Eyes heated.

His whole body tensed for her touch, for the feel of her tongue as she traced it up his length, around the tip, before letting him slide into her waiting mouth.

Victor’s whole body jolted as he settled deep, his hips rocking up into her mouth once as his hands reached to gather her hair, fisting it at the nape of her neck so there was nothing obstructing his view as she started to work him.

She was slow at first, soaking up every sigh, every tensed muscle, the way his eyes went to half-mast as he watched her.

But as his need for release grew, so did her desire to feel him fall apart because of her.

So she worked him harder, faster, getting him panting and groaning, rocking deeper into her throat as she took him in each time.

Then his whole body tightened as a hushed curse escaped him just before the taste of him filled her mouth, making a little moan escape her.

She worked him through it before letting him slip out from between her lips, turning to rest her head against his thigh as Victor’s fingers gently sifted through her hair.

Both at a loss for words.

But completely content with the silence.

Until it was interrupted.

The ding of the lift.

The click-clack of heels on the floor in the hall.

Pandora shot back up onto the couch as Victor tucked himself away, both of them fussing with their hair and clothes, making sure nothing was askew as the agent’s hand jiggled the door.

Victor grabbed the book, flipping the suggestive cover over so it was against his leg just as the estate agent came rushing back into the room.

“So,” she said, exhaling a bit, clearly still flustered by the mishap.

“We’ll take it,” Pandora said, beaming at the woman, happier than she’d been in weeks.

All that was left to do was sign the papers.

And, of course, get married.