Page 49 of My Big Fat Vampire Wedding

“No. No, I will never keep something from you again. I will even tell you if you get an awful haircut. Or if you have bad breath. Or if I find myself staring at your neck.”

“Well, you might not need to be that honest.”

“I don’t want to keep anything from you again. I don’t ever want to risk losing you. I barely survived it once.”

“All right. Full honesty.” He laced his fingers between hers. “And maybe a less rushed wedding.”

“Or, you know, a civil ceremony. You, me, Lucy, and Sebastian.”

“I dunno. I was kind of enjoying that massive vampire wedding. Though, trying to explain marrying in a graveyard was … fun.”

“This time, maybe it can be more about us and what we want.”

“And what do you want?”

“You.”

“You have that,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. “What else?”

“A wedding in a giant library. Somewhere cold. Preferably while it’s snowing.”

“That sounds perfect,” he said. “Maybe somewhere with a winding, overgrown garden. With lots of little hidden spots to get lost in together.”

Heat bloomed through her at the memory.

And now he was saying she could have that, and so much more, forever.

“Oh, I do have one stipulation.”

“Anything.”

“We don’t sleep in a coffin.”

“I don’t know. It sounds kind of cozy with you in it with me.”

“I’m afraid it’s a dealbreaker,” he said with warm eyes. “I’m a bit claustrophobic.”

“A big, comfy bed it is, then.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“It does,” she said. “So, are you going to kiss me or not?”

With that, his lips claimed hers.

Soft and sweet at first, then growing deeper, more intense, both of them full of the promise of forever.

Some part of Pandora was acutely aware of the store full of people, and Lucy, just feet away.

But as Victor reached over to press the lock on the door, then backed her up to her desk before bending, grabbing her legs, and dropping her onto it, she couldn’t seem to bring herself to care.

Her hands were frantic, moving over the body she’d been sure she would never get to feel again, peeling away layers of clothing that were hiding him from her.

Victor was just as needy, his hands roaming up her belly to close over her breasts. But they were both quickly frustrated by the material blocking his touch.

Her hands went up and Victor was all too happy to slip her shirt up and off, then reach behind her to loosen the clasps of her bra.

Then his hands were closing over her, making her eyes slide shut at the long-wanted brush of his fingers on her bare skin.

“Look at me when I’m touching you,” Victor murmured, making Pandora’s belly flip-flop as her eyelids fluttered open to find him watching her with an intensity that made her heart feel like it was growing too big for her chest. “There you go,” he said as his thumb and forefinger squeezed her nipple just a little harder, the pain–pleasure mix making her whimper as she arched into the sensation, rather than away from it.

She loved Victor in all his forms, but there was something about this version of him – demanding, possessive, so close to losing control – that was making her nearly come undone as well.

Victor’s free hand went to her shoulder, pressing until she went flat across her desk – and she was sure she would never look at the big desk calendar the same again. Depending on how this went, she might need to burn the damn thing.

She stared up at him, watching his struggle to regain some of his control.

That was the last thing she wanted.

Her legs moved out, hooking around his hips and pulling him closer. The move had his lips tipping up as his fingers grazed over her ribcage, making a little shiver move through her.

He bent forward, sucking one of her nipples into his mouth, making her arch up off the desk as a moan ripped free from her.

“Shh,” he murmured, his breath warm across her breast.

Then his lips and tongue and teeth were on her again, testing her ability to keep quiet as he drove her up without even touching her where she needed it most.

It wasn’t long, though, before his fingers were working her trousers down her legs. And her panties weren’t far behind.

Then he was spreading her wide for him before leaning down and teasing her with his lips, tongue, and fingers.

There was no keeping her moans down then and his hand slid up to her mouth, muffling her cries as he drove her to that edge, then sent her flying over, her body tensing then shaking with the intensity of the orgasm as it racked her system.

As soon as she came down, he was driving her back up until she couldn’t take the anticipation anymore.

Pandora slid off the desk, reaching to free him from his trousers and underwear, then stroking him hard and fast until he was as far gone as she felt, as desperate for more as she was.

Victor grabbed her, turning her and bending her over her desk as he stepped in behind her.

Then his hand was slapping down on her bottom cheek once. Twice. Three times. As he rubbed himself against her cleft, around her clit.

Teasing. Torturing. Refusing to give in until she was begging for it, begging for him.

“Victor, please,” Pandora cried out, her fingers curling into fists on the surface of the desk as she wiggled back against him.

On a sound that was almost a growl, he slammed deep inside her, both of them crying out at the feel of her walls tightening around his hard length, at getting what they’d both been aching for for far too long.

They were lost to the world then as they went from slow and teasing to hard and fast until, with a shuddering cry, she came around him, taking him with her until they were both completely spent.

“Well,” Pandora said afterward, Victor’s fingers softly whispering up and down her spine as they both tested the craftsmanship of the desk, bodies cuddled close. “I think I need to leave early tonight. And then spend all night doing that all around our flat.”

“Our?” he asked, tentative but hopeful.

“Yep. But I already stole the best shelves. You’re just going to have to learn to live with that.”

“Mmhmm. Or sneak out in the morning when you’re sleeping to replace them with my books.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

“OK. How about a compromise?”

“What kind?”

“On all the best eye-level shelves, we put the books we read together.”

“The spicy ones?” he asked, fingers slipping down her belly again.

“The spicier the better.”