by Alexis Daria
“Jasmine.” He ground himself against her hip, needing the friction. “Can I—”
“Yes.” She nipped his lower lip to cut him off. “Anything you want.”
With a groan, he grabbed the lube and applied a liberal amount to his cock. Pressing it between her hip and his belly, he worked them both. He teased her mouth with his lips, teeth, and tongue. Plied her hot, wet pussy with his fingers and hand. And rubbed his lubed-up dick against her soft, warm skin. When she went to touch him, he gently moved her hand away.
“I have this,” he murmured. “Just feel.”
The pressure built in him. It had been so long, and she was everything he’d dreamed of. Her gasps of pleasure, the way she held him close and kissed him like she’d never let go intoxicated his senses.
When her fingernails bit into his shoulders and she cried out his name, he knew she was close. He thrust a third finger inside her, filling her, and pressed her clit with renewed purpose.
A second later, the orgasm seized her. He held her through it, kissing her, rubbing her, barely holding it together as her cries filled the space around them.
Her body shook, ecstasy clear on her face and in the shivers running through her limbs. Her open response pushed him over the edge. He gripped her around the waist and thrust hard against her side. The orgasm shot through him in a rush, making his toes curl as all the tension he’d been carrying for weeks released with a guttural groan and a hot splash across her belly and hip.
Breathing hard, he set his head next to hers on the pillow and shut his eyes. Bliss washed through him in the wake of his climax, leaving him thoroughly sated and content for the first time in . . . he didn’t know how long.
Jasmine was so quiet, he opened his eyes to check if she was still awake, and found her staring at him from just a few inches away on the pillow. His arms were still banded tightly around her. He didn’t want to let go, but he was pretty sure she didn’t want his cum to dry on her.
He cleared his throat, which felt rough from all the sex groans he’d been making. “Are you okay?”
Her lips curved a fraction. “Better than okay.”
Well, that was a relief. He’d worried about how she’d respond to his directive that they not have penetrative sex, since it seemed like that’s where they’d been headed, not sure if she’d be angry, disappointed, or insulted that he’d assume she’d ever consider it. He’d probably have to explain himself later, but now . . .
“I’ll be right back.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, then went to retrieve a wet towel. She lay still while he wiped the mess off her, then she slipped from the bed and went to the bathroom. When she was done, he took his turn, wondering what to say when he went back out. Let’s do it again didn’t seem appropriate. And now that his mind was clear, regrets were trying to push their way in.
Déjame, he told them. Let me have this moment.
He still hadn’t figured out what to say by the time he left the bathroom. In the dark, he searched for his pants, when her voice stopped him.
“Please stay.”
He looked up to see Jasmine sitting in the middle of the bed, holding the sheet over her lap and gorgeous breasts. Jasmine, who’d shown no qualms about revealing her body only moments earlier, was now covering herself. Her eyes, usually so expressive, were guarded. She bit the corner of her lip, her eyebrows creasing the barest fraction.
He shouldn’t stay. This was a very, very bad idea, for so many reasons.
But he wanted to. And she wanted him to.
Wasn’t that enough? Could it be enough? At least for one night.
Ashton dropped his pants back to the floor and slid onto the bed next to her, taking her in his arms. “Sí, me quedaré.”
He realized a second too late that he’d said it in Spanish, but before he could repeat the words in English, her arms came around his neck. She snuggled her face into his shoulder, pressed her warm breasts against his chest, and tangled her legs with his.
It had been so long since he’d fallen asleep with a woman curled beside him like this. A warm, relaxed feeling spread over him, seeping into his bones. He pulled her closer, then drifted off into an easy, dreamless slumber.
Chapter 23
When Ashton’s alarm went off at five in the morning, he shifted to shut it off—then noticed a warm, citrus-scented weight on his chest. Jasmine.
That’s right. Last night, they’d—well, he hadn’t been inside her, but there’d been an exchange of fluids and . . . god, he’d come on her, after humping her hip like . . . he didn’t even know what. What had he been thinking? They’d had their first kiss—their first real kiss—and seconds later they’d been naked. Whatever this was between them, it was going too fast, getting too far out of control.
But it had also felt so damn good, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.
His phone alarm was still beeping insistently.
Jasmine made a cute little whimper and lifted her head to look at him in the dark. “What time is it?”
“Cinco de la—I mean, it’s five.”
Groaning, she dropped her head back to his chest and cuddled closer. “Why?”
A laugh rumbled deep inside him. “Why what?”
“Why . . . five,” she answered sleepily. “And why . . . the alarm.”
“It’s my daily gym alarm.”
“Ohhh.” Her hands moved, slim fingers tracing his biceps. “Okay then.”
He should get up. Now. He shouldn’t have stayed in the first place. But he felt a tug in his gut as if an invisible anchor kept him rooted next to her.
He ignored it and slid out of the bed. He had commitments. Gym, yes, but he also had a call with Yadiel scheduled, and he’d be damned if he disappointed his kid because he was in bed with a woman.
Even if that woman was Jasmine. Even if all he wanted to do in that very moment was snuggle with her for ten more minutes.
Following the sound of the alarm, he found his phone in the pocket of the pants he’d left on the floor the night before. With the alarm silenced, he made a quick trip to the bathroom. When he came back out, her eyes were heavy-lidded with sleep, but alert. He felt her gaze following him around the room as he collected his various articles of clothing and got dressed.
And then there was nothing more to do but leave. He should say something meaningful, but he didn’t know what. He certainly couldn’t make any promises or plans. But he didn’t have to be an asshole either, so before he left, he went back to the bed and sat beside her.
With gentle movements, he brushed her hair behind her ear and leaned down to press a kiss to her temple. When she lifted up on her elbows, he pulled her the rest of the way, gathering her warm, naked form in his lap and holding her tight. She clung to him, nuzzling her face in his neck. He held her until his alarm went off again.
“That’s my cue,” he said, reluctant to release her. “I’ll . . . be back later.” He shouldn’t, but it was pointless to deny that he wanted to return.
She nodded and started to shift away. “We should go over our lines.”
“We should,” he agreed, as if it would be so easy to go back to their old dynamic after what they’d done in this bed. Since he couldn’t resist, he cupped her chin and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.
She kissed him back, so sweet, so soft. And although he felt the pull to stay, he left.
Back in his own room, he took off his clothes from the night before and decided on a quick shower before hitting the gym. His skin still carried the scent of her, which made him remember how he’d come on her the night before, and just like that, he was hard again.
Those pesky regrets were creeping closer. The last time he’d had sex with a costar, he’d gotten Yadiel, which was why he had a strict policy against it and hadn’t wanted to have penetrative sex with Jasmine. Not that what they’d done was any less intimate. He’d had his hands all over her, his mouth—well, not on as much of her as he would have liked, but coño, he was trying to observe so
me boundaries.
Except now he was thinking of putting his mouth between her legs and licking her sweet pussy, of making her quake and cry out with pleasure. Of crawling up her body and sinking deep—
Fuck.
His dick wasn’t going down as long as he kept thinking about Jasmine, and there was no way he was going to the fitness center with a raging hard-on. He turned the shower on hot and stepped in, lathering up his hands and body with shower gel. Then he braced one arm on the wall, wrapped his hand around his dick, and worked himself with quick, short strokes. Behind his closed eyelids, he saw Jasmine writhing naked on a bed, bathed in moonlight. Okay, so last night it hadn’t been moonlight, but the city acting as a nightlight—whatever, it was close enough. The silvery gleam gilded her lush golden curves, her brown nipples peaking in the cool air. The white noise of the shower amplified the memory of her moans in his mind. He visualized her parting her legs for him, her pussy open and gleaming. He would kiss her there if she let him, lick her until she was mindless with need, as he’d been for her.
Groaning, he cupped his balls and gave them a quick squeeze. After adding more soap, he gripped the base of his dick and resumed stroking.
He wanted to touch her again, kiss her again. And damn it, he wanted to fuck her. To slide into her as far as he could go, to hold her close and hear those sexy little noises she made as he pumped inside her.
To kiss her good morning, to make her laugh, to hold her when she cried—
Whoa, where the fuck had that come from?
Didn’t matter. He was on the edge. His muscles bunched, his balls tightened, and as he pictured Jasmine plumping her breasts together for him to spray his load on, he came.
A shudder racked his body, weakening his knees, and he pressed his forehead to the tile. Hot water washed over him, rinsing soap and his fluids down the drain.
This wasn’t like him. He’d had more than his fair share of flings before Yadiel had been born. Since then, he’d focused only on career and family, and as he’d grown more cautious—or as his father said, paranoid—the less he’d let women get too close. A few dates here and there, including a couple of fake relationships for publicity purposes, some fooling around with non-coworkers, but nothing serious. He hadn’t wanted anything serious. Until now.
Now, he wished they could be two different people, free to pursue what was clearly a mutual attraction and interest. What was between him and Jasmine was more than just a hookup between costars. He liked her. A lot.
And that made the whole thing all the more dangerous and complicated. Not only was he mixing business and pleasure, but he was doing it with the one person on the cast who could demolish his carefully constructed house of cards. The media paid far too much attention to her, and his family’s safety relied on him flying under the radar, as far as his personal life was concerned. A relationship with Jasmine would be disastrous.
His familia was small, and they were all he had. Part of him envied Jasmine’s big, sprawling family and the close relationship she had with her cousins. After Yadiel had been born, Ashton had pulled away from other people in an effort to keep his son a secret, but it wore on him. He could have confided in his father—of anyone, Ignacio would understand the most—but he felt too guilty to burden his father with these feelings, especially when Ignacio was handling all of the day-to-day tasks of raising the boy.
Ashton knew he should be grateful. His family had always supported his dreams and his acting career. When he was young, they’d scrimped and saved to send him to a private school with a good drama program, and attended every one of his performances. All he’d ever wanted was to work his way up as an actor, to achieve fame and recognition for his work, and to be able to support his family the way they’d done for him. But now it felt like he was half-assing both. He had absolutely no business starting something with Jasmine he couldn’t finish.
But there was something about her that kept drawing him in. Her skill and instinct as a scene partner, her leadership among the cast, her innate sense for when they needed a fun break and bonding opportunity, even the way she laughed at his dad jokes.
Okay, especially the way she laughed at his dad jokes. He knew he was awkward with her sometimes, and she never made him feel bad about it.
All that, yet it was her vulnerability that seduced him the most. Like when she’d asked him to stay, or when she’d come to his dressing room worried that he was mad at her, or even when she talked about her past relationships and her family. She was beautiful, funny, and smart, but in her, he recognized a loneliness that resonated with his own. How could he resist her?
He finished showering and shut off the water. He didn’t have answers. But he’d have to find them. He didn’t want to be another man who left her hurting.
Although he feared he would be.
SHE’D ASKED HIM to stay. And he had.
As much as Jasmine wanted to bask in the afterglow of the night she’d shared with Ashton, family obligation won out. Still, she held that single, affirming thought—he’d stayed—close to her as she suffered through brunch with her immediate family at a crowded West Village bistro.
Saturday at noon was prime brunch time in New York City, when everyone recovered from Friday night partying with carbs, bottomless mimosas, and the knowledge that Monday morning was still a full day away.
If only Ava and Michelle could be there. But this was an immediate-family-only outing, and so here she sat with her parents—Lisa and Julio—and her siblings—Jillian and Jeremy.
In hell.
“And here’s Hunter at day camp,” her mother said, holding out her phone to show Jasmine yet another photo of Jillian’s youngest son.
Jasmine shoved a big bite of huevos rancheros into her mouth to keep from answering. “Mm-hmm.”
“And here he is at swimming class.” Lisa swiped, squinted at her phone screen, then held it back out across the table for Jasmine to see.
“Nice.” Jasmine chugged half of her current mimosa and signaled for the harried-looking waitress to bring her another. She had one hour to drink as many as she could, and she planned to make the most of it.
“And here he is at karate!”
Jasmine narrowly resisted the urge to snatch her mother’s phone and toss it into the pitcher of sangria on the next table.
She loved her nephews. Truly, she did. Jillian had two funny and rambunctious little boys, and Jeremy’s son was sweet and inquisitive. But her mother’s pointed comments about how wonderful they were only drove home what she wasn’t saying—that Jasmine was a loser with no husband and no kids. Bad enough that she didn’t have a real job, but no family? Worthless.
“I know you’re not on Facebook, so you’ve probably missed a lot of pictures,” Lisa added.
Ouch. Way to twist the knife, Mom. Lisa knew full well Jasmine wasn’t on social media because of the shitstorm surrounding her breakup with McIntyre, something her parents liked to pretend didn’t exist.
Instead of voicing her frustration, Jasmine sent her mom a sunny smile and kept her voice light. “Well, you know I’ve been super busy with the new show. Not much time to waste scrolling on my phone.”
It was a slightly passive-aggressive dig, since her mom and sister were known in the family for posting an excessive number of memes on Facebook, and Jeremy was constantly on Instagram. Even now he was watching something on his phone and chuckling to himself.
“We’re glad you could join us, Jas,” her father said, reaching over to pat her hand. He’d likely picked up on her annoyance. “We know your schedule is very full.”
“But you’re going to abuela’s party, right?” Jillian asked, somehow making it sound like a jab.
“Of course I am.” Jasmine couldn’t believe her sister would imply that she wasn’t. “I’ve been on the phone with the venue every few days, making sure it’s all going according to plan. I wouldn’t miss it.”
Without commenting, Jillian turned to Jeremy. “Did you hear Tony’s engage
d?”
“No way.” Jeremy’s eyes went wide as he looked up from his phone. “Didn’t think he’d ever settle down.”
Jasmine could have kicked Jillian under the table. But what would be the point? Family first, which meant the expansion of the family, through marriage and childbirth, outweighed every other accomplishment. She’d been nominated for a Daytime Emmy, for god’s sake. But when the news had been announced, her parents had responded with the text message equivalent of “that’s nice, dear.”
They had always been this way. Even when Jasmine was younger, she’d more often than not been left to fend for herself. Her parents both worked full time, Lisa as a nurse and Julio as a professor. Jillian, always an overachiever, had been involved in a ton of extracurricular activities that consumed more time and attention from their parents. Jeremy, the youngest and the only boy in a Latinx family, was the proud recipient of perpetual babying. And Jasmine, a middle child and people pleaser to the core, had faded into the background at home, using performance as a way to earn positive attention. Her parents had praised her early musical theater exploits, which was why it had been so confusing when they didn’t support her choice to pursue acting as a career.
“And my cousin Lupita’s youngest daughter is pregnant,” Lisa added, reminding Jasmine what was truly important in this family. “Remember her? She lives in Seattle now.”
The waitress handed Jasmine another drink and Jasmine held up two fingers. With a faint smile, the other woman mouthed, “I got you,” and headed for the bar.
“Jer, show Jas that video of Mason doing a somersault,” her father said, and Jeremy passed Jasmine his phone as reluctantly as if she’d asked for one of his kidneys. Mason was almost three, and absolutely darling. But today, Jasmine couldn’t take one more reminder of what she was missing in her life.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, grabbing her own phone and shoving her chair back. “My agent just called.”
Riley had not called, but they didn’t know that. Jasmine just needed a break.
