Big Vamp on Campus (Half-Moon Hollow Series Book 7) by Molly Harper Page A

peace and completion and acceptance. Jamie kissed me because he enjoyed kissing me. Not because he was angling for something more or because he was trying to manipulate me but because kissing was enough for him. He cupped my face in his hands.
    I plucked at the buttons on his shirt, because that always let him know that kissing wasn’t enough for me at the moment. He grinned against my lips, a pleased noise rumbling through his chest.
    Never breaking the seal between our mouths, he slid his hands along my thighs and hitched me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. He turned, propping my butt against the top of a nearby washing machine. His arms, warm from the toasty temperature of the room, slipped around my back, pressing me close, making me feel loved and safe and close, so very close to the man I adored completely.
    “We don’t have to do this here, you know. My roommate has basically abandoned our room. We can take advantage of my tiny, extremely lumpy single bed.”
    “Oh, come on, babe, where’s your sense of adventure?” he asked, kissing my neck and toying with the snap on my jeans. He lifted my hips and tugged at the denim, then the plain cotton panties I’d taken to wearing since I’d ruined a series of expensive French silk underwear in this very room.
    “I’ve danced on the Great Wall of China drunk on the blood of an empress. I’ve jumped over Niagara Falls. I took Georgie to Chuck E. Cheese before vampires came out of the coffin,” I said, my voice husky as his hands danced over my bare, spread thighs.
    “That’s not adventurous, that’s insane,” he informed me, sliding his fingers over my flesh, stoking the pressure building there.
    I gasped, a happy little moan against the shell of his ear.
    “See?” he rumbled, rubbing his thumb in those tight little circles he knew worked best for me. “Nice and warm, the pleasant scent of fabric softener. Hell, if you don’t listen too close, the tumbling of the dryer sounds like the ocean.”
    I whimpered. “The fabric softener is repulsive.”
    “I like it. It reminds me of my mom.”
    I jerked my head back from him. “This is your idea of setting the mood?”
    He looked sheepish and redoubled his efforts, making me forget all about the reference to his mother. “Can you honestly say that you’ve ever had sex in a college dorm laundry room?”
    “No. And I’m not going to have sex in a laundry room now.”
    “But it means I’ve finally found something to do with you that you’ve never done before.”
    I laughed, so distracted by his kisses and caresses that I barely noticed the rasp of his zipper. He gingerly pulled my hips forward, rubbing against me, reminding me of the first time we were together, all that tentative gentleness that had made me feel almost shy.
    Oh, good grief, I was actually going to have sex in a laundry room.
    Those tight little thumb circles got a bit sloppier, but they still had the desired effect. He slid home, and I cried out, arching against him, propping myself up against the washer lid.
    Laundry-room sex wasn’t so bad. The dryer did sound a little bit like the ocean. I could feel a sort of thrum of energy around me, sliding along my skin in cycles. Ripple ripple ripple . The machines in the room, the cooling system next door, the circuits in the breaker room down the hall—they were all humming, and I could feel them together. Ripple ripple ripple . Building inside me, feeding the pleasure I felt from Jamie’s touch, and making it grow, throbbing and flaring.
    Jamie ground against me, hitching his hips in just the right way, and those ripples grew into a wave of pleasure that contracted and spread through me. I threw my head back and thunked it against the wall. Jamie pressed his forehead against my sternum, breathing hard and unnecessary breaths as his knees buckled under him. All that pressure and energy raced through me in one delicious pulse . Then, behind Jamie, the entire bank of washers and dryers