You Had Me at Hola(53)

“You taste like pizza,” she murmured against his lips.

“So do you.”

Ashton pumped his hips up toward her heat, pressed so close to him. Slipping his fingers under the hem of her romper, he groaned when he found her bare. “No panties?”

“Nuh-uh.” She grabbed his hands and pressed them to her chest. “No bra either.”

“You’re incredible.” He breathed the words against her neck as his fingers flexed on her breasts, cupping them through the thin fabric. “How do you take this thing off?”

“Like this.” She got off his lap, and when he would have protested, he swallowed his words instead, practically drooling as she yanked on the neckline and shimmied out of the garment. And then she was utterly, gloriously naked.

“Ven acá,” he said with a growl, catching her wrist and pulling her over to him.

With a breathless giggle, she resumed her place on his lap and wrapped one arm around his shoulders. Her other hand snaked down between them to stroke him through the fabric of his pants. He gasped, his cock surging at her touch.

They were doing this. They were definitely doing this. Consequences be damned, he had to get inside her.

“Forget what I said yesterday.” Desperation made his voice gravelly. “We should definitely have sex.”

She met his eyes, her expression uncertain. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” He realized he was being presumptive and hastened to add, “If you are?”

She huffed out a laugh. “Oh, I am one hundred percent on board with having penetrative sex with you.”

He groaned and pressed his face into her shoulder. “Did I really call it that?”

“You sure did.” She touched his chin, gently urging him to look at her. “Do you want to tell me why?”

“I . . . don’t cross that line with coworkers.” It was as good a way to explain it as any.

She just nodded. “It’s a smart policy. I get it.”

“But I want to . . . with you.” Total understatement.

Her smile was sweet, but that fire was back in her eyes. “Me too.”

It seemed silly to sit around talking when he had a naked woman on his lap. And now that they were on the same page . . .

He gripped her thighs and stood, lifting her as he had the night before. “Condoms?”

She wrapped her arms and legs around him, arching to thrust her breasts in his face. “Bedroom.”

He carried her in, but didn’t set her by the bed. Instead, he put her on the dresser. “Quédate aquí,” he ordered sternly, and she giggled.

He found the condoms in the drawer with the lube, so he grabbed that too. The assortment of pink and purple vibrating devices was interesting, but not for tonight. Tonight, he’d keep it simple.

That line of thinking implied they’d have more than just tonight, so he pushed the thought aside and returned to her with a deep, searching kiss.

She helped him undress, their movements frantic and fumbling. “Hurry,” she kept saying, and he gloried in the knowledge that she was as anxious for this as he was. She already had a condom unwrapped by the time he’d shed his pants and underwear, so he held still—barely—while she unrolled it down his length with torturously slow movements. But when she reached for the bottle of lube, he shook his head and took it from her.

“Hop down,” he said, helping her off the dresser. Then he turned her around to face the rectangular mirror hanging over it.

Their eyes met in the reflection, and a slow, sensual smile spread over her lips.

Apparently she was on board with his idea, too, because she spread her feet and braced her hands on the edge of the dresser. Her willingness and enthusiasm were arousing all on their own, but damn, she was stunning too. He swallowed hard, admiring her long legs, the curve of her ass, the arch of her back—until she turned and raised her eyebrows at him.

“Are you going to take all day?”

“No, querida. I’m here.”

And he was. He was here, all in, for whatever came next. For tonight, it was just them. Just this.

Tomorrow . . . well, they’d deal with tomorrow when it arrived.

QUERIDA. HE’D CALLED her querida.

Warmth spread over Jasmine’s body at the term of endearment. The way it rolled off his tongue, the feeling of being dear to someone, made her want to get even closer to him. And tonight, they would.

She curled her toes into the carpet as she watched Ashton prepping behind her, the mirror affording her a front-row view. God, she loved the look of him naked. He was perfectly proportioned, with an easy strength and confidence in his own skin that was so damned attractive. And his cock was pretty great too.

He squirted some lube into his hand, then set the bottle aside. Stepping closer, he gripped her hip, then slipped the lubed-up hand between her legs.

At the first touch of his fingers on her pussy, she shut her eyes and let out a low moan. The way he caressed her there was so fucking lovely. Gentle, but sure. He smoothed the lube over her folds, coating her with the gel to make sure she was wet and open. His fingers teased her entrance and she sighed, her breath hitching when he found her clit and stroked.

“Please,” she whispered, shaking her ass to hurry him along.

It worked. With a groan, he moved behind her and bent his knees. His thighs pressed against hers, and then the head of his cock prodded at her. Their eyes met in the mirror and she sucked in a breath. His handsome features were stark with the intensity of his concentration, and his dark gaze entranced her. This kind of single-minded focus—on her—was a turn-on like no other. Then he pushed forward, filling her, stretching her. Pleasure detonated her thoughts into stardust. The lube and her own readiness eased the way, but he still felt impossibly thick inside her.