You Had Me at Hola(69)

The lamp in the corner was turned on low, the light caressing her skin and gilding her curves with gold as she rocked on top of him. He followed the light with his hands, touching her, memorizing the shape of her. This couldn’t last—good things never did—but for right now, he would live in the moment with her while he could. Her full breasts swayed in front of him, and he leaned forward to suck her nipple into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue and loving the way she cried out in immediate response. He wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her close, then reached his other hand between them to slide his fingertips over her clit. She shivered at the touch, her thrusts becoming shorter and more insistent.

“Ashton,” she said on a gasp. “Oh god. Don’t—don’t stop.”

He wouldn’t have dared. While he couldn’t give her much, this he could give her. He pumped his hips, grinding against her as he urged her to climax.

He knew she was close when her nails sank into his shoulders, and he grinned against her breast and increased the pace, thrusting up and into her soft, wet sheath.

“Ashton!” He rolled his eyes up to look at her, soaking in the ecstasy etched on her gorgeous face, the urgency in her voice, and the way her mouth fell open when she came. Pleasure wrung broken, staccato gasps from her throat, and he loved the sound of them. God, he was falling for this woman so hard, and he couldn’t even lie to himself about it. He held her through her orgasm, squeezing his eyes shut to hold back his own as her pussy squeezed his dick in an almost irresistible rhythm.

She sighed and melted against his chest, her arms twining around his back as she pressed her face to his neck.

“More,” she whispered.

The soft command unleashed something in him. Keeping their pelvises locked tight, he shifted them so she lay on her back, propped up by throw pillows, the blanket bunched underneath them. Ashton braced himself on his forearms, gave her a quick kiss, and surrendered to hot and fast fucking.

Their bodies grew slick with sweat as he pounded into her, their skin slapping together as she met each thrust with one of her own. He ground out curses in English and Spanish, and she panted what would have been benedictions in any other setting.

He didn’t want it to end, but it was too good to last forever.

As Jasmine came apart in his arms again, Ashton lost the battle. With his face pressed into the curve of her neck, breathing in the sweet citrus scent of her hair, he drove into her one last time. The orgasm ripped through him. He shuddered hard, heart pounding, breath heaving.

In the aftermath, his mind emptied and his body went numb. They were a joined tangle of sweaty limbs, and he couldn’t even begin to figure out how to separate himself, so he didn’t. He just listened to the sound of her breathing, counting the rise and fall of her chest under his cheek.

And in the pure clarity following a climax, he knew, finally, what he wanted.

This. He wanted this. To come home to this woman, to be with her, to love her, and to let her love him back.

But the world returned to him in bits and pieces, along with all the reminders of why this would never work between them.

His career.

Her fame.

His son.

He didn’t want to move from this sofa. If he didn’t move, he didn’t have to face the consequences of his actions, and he could pretend, for just a little longer, that this was possible.

But it wasn’t. And he was softening inside her. In a second he was going to have to dispose of the condom and—

She shifted, breaking the spell. He climbed off her and grabbed the box of tissues on the end table. As he was cleaning up, she pulled the blanket off the cushions and wrapped it around herself.

It pained him to see her cover herself, as if shielding herself from him, the way she had their first night together before she’d asked him to stay. He shouldn’t have come here. He was just getting in deeper, starting something he couldn’t finish.

“I didn’t think I’d see you tonight,” she said softly.

The postcoital quiet called for truth. “I was trying to stay away.”

She sighed. “And I was trying to let you.”

He blinked in surprise. “You were?”

She nodded and gave him a little smile. “I was doing a pretty good job of it, too, but then you came to my trailer tonight looking ten kinds of delicious, and it took all my self-control not to run after you.”

“You—really?”

This pleased him to no end, even though it shouldn’t.

He’d told Jasmine about the Incident, and she’d understood. What would happen if he told her about Yadiel? She valued family as much as he did. He thought—hoped—she’d understand about that too.

The full truth burned on the tip of his tongue, but by now he was so used to keeping secrets, it was easy to swallow it down.

There was still time.

Jasmine picked up the wineglass and drained it. Then she turned off the TV and stood.

“Are you . . . going to stay?” she asked.

He caught the slight, hopeful lilt in her voice, the way she chewed at her bottom lip, like she expected him to leave.

He should leave. But he didn’t want to.

“I’ll stay.”

She nodded, then reached out her hand to him. “Good.”

He took her hand and let her lead him into the bedroom.