Page 53 of You Had Me at Hola
As many times as they had done this before, this was allnew. They weren’t Carmen and Victor now. They were just Jasmine and—
“Ashton,” she whispered against his mouth.
He pressed his lips to the curve of her neck and made a questioning noise in the back of his throat.
“Touch me. Please.”
He did.
His hands slid down her back in an unerring path, molding over her sides, her hips, stopping at her butt to give it a squeeze, then traveling down to the backs of her thighs. He lifted her like he had when they’d filmed episode four. The move had thrilled her then and it thrilled her now. Still kissing, he carried her to the table where they had once shared wine and pizza and set her down on top. Then he pressed his pelvis to hers and the feel of him against her made her desperate to touch him.
“Off,” she pleaded, tugging at his T-shirt. “Take this off.”
He released her for just a moment to reach back, fisting his hand in the material and yanking the whole thing over his head. In the dreamy ambient light of New York City filtering in through the windows—they hadn’t even thought to turn on the lamp—she trailed her gaze and her fingers over the angles and planes of his muscled form. When she’d seen him on the treadmill in the fitness center, she’d wanted to touch him. And now she could.
But Ashton wasn’t content to just sit back and be touched. He leaned into her, capturing her mouth again with fervor.
Then he surprised her by murmuring against her lips, “This is not kissing practice.”
“No,” she agreed, tangling her tongue with his, just to prove it to herself. Full-on tongue kissing was a line they’d never crossed at work. “Besides, you clearly don’t need any practice.”
He chuckled, then his mouth left hers to trace a line down her neck and over her bare shoulder.
“This shirt,” he muttered, his fingers crawling under the band. “Did you wear it to drive me wild?”
“Maybe.” She’d picked the lacy white crop top because it was cute, but she’d worn her most effective strapless bra underneath because she’d known he would be there tonight. “Okay, yes. I wore it for you”
“Sinvergüenza,” he scolded, then peeled the shirt from her body.
He’d called her shameless, and when he unhooked her bra and cupped her bare breasts in his hands, all she could do was sigh and say, “You know it.”
Then he dipped his head and pressed his open mouth to her nipple, and she was beyond words.
She locked her legs around his hips and pulled him against her, grinding on him through their pants as he sucked and tugged at her nipples with his mouth and fingers. Bolts of electric desire streaked through her body at his touch, building a roiling sense of pure need deep within her.
She pulled at his hair, whimpered his name, and rocked her pelvis against his until finally, he said the best word in the world: “Bed.”
Jasmine slid off the table, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the bedroom after her. They fell onto the bed togetherand he made quick work of her pants. Her sandals had already been lost by the door. Ashton peeled her jeans and simple black panties down her legs, then he stood and just gazed at her. His expression showed hunger, yes, and appreciation, but also something like affection. Right then, Jasmine felt like the most beautiful, most loved, most desired woman in the world.
“Come here,” she said, and while she meant it to sound seductive and alluring, it just sounded desperate. But she didn’t care.
At her breathless command, a new urgency overtook him. He kicked off his shoes and shoved down his jeans. She sucked in a breath and bit her lower lip at the sight of his rigid cock, outlined beautifully by tight dark blue briefs. The head peeked out over the waistband. She couldn’t fucking wait to get her hands on him.
With something like a growl, he slid next to her and gathered her close, kissing her like their lives depended on it.
This was a side of Ashton she hadn’t seen before. She’d caught glimpses of it when he played Victor, a sexy intensity that came out when he acted. But this was more—more passionate, more overwhelming—and she loved it. All she ever wanted was to be the single-minded focus of someone’s attention. And his was 100 percent entirely focused on her.
His mouth moved over hers like all the stage kisses they’d shared had been foreplay, a prelude to what he was truly capable of and what he’d wanted to do. Now, finally, he was kissing her for real. No pretense, no direction from others. This was pure, unfiltered Ashton. No holding back.
Jasmine took everything he offered and gave him everything she could. Their hands roamed, learning each other’s bodies more intimately and more ardently than they ever had on set. Jasmine grasped the waistband of his underwear and shoved them down over his taut ass before taking his cock in hand.
It was thick and fully rigid, his skin hot against her palm. She gave him a few experimental pumps and he groaned against her mouth.
“Jasmine, what are we doing?” His voice was hoarse, rough with need. He sucked in a breath when she wrapped her fingers around his shaft and gave him a gentle squeeze.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, meeting his eyes. “But I don’t want to stop.”
“Yo tampoco.” The words held a note of confession. He cupped her cheek and kissed her, then shifted out of reach. She almost whimpered in dismay when the move pulled his cock from her grasp, but then his mouth found her breasts again and one of his hands slid up her inner thigh. With a satisfied hum, she decided that, on second thought, she was totally okay with these new positions.
