Jasmine’s eyebrows shot up and she gave him a look like, Are you kidding me? “What do you mean, of course? Don’t take that for granted. I could win an Oscar and it wouldn’t matter to my family.”

Ashton shrugged as he chewed a bite of pizza. “My family has reacted to everything I’ve ever done like it’s an Oscar win.” That was why he wanted one so bad—so he could prove himself to everyone else.

Jasmine’s expression turned wistful as she stared at the crust on her plate. “Must be nice. Mine only care if you’re married and have kids. And yeah, I want those things, but I still have value as a person without them, you know?”

He blinked. She was right. He was lucky in how his parents supported his career. And also . . . she’d just revealed a lot about herself.

His heart ached for her, and he wanted to ask more, to hear the details of her day, of her family, of her childhood, but she flipped open her copy of the script and said blithely, “Episode seven. The penultimate episode. What happens?”

Ashton swallowed the food in his mouth. All right, she clearly didn’t want to talk about her family, but he’d thought they’d at least discuss what they’d done last night on this very table. However, he recognized a subject change when he heard one, so he respected her wishes and answered. “Victor spills his guts on a bunch of talk shows.”

“Oh, lots of feelings,” she teased. “Marquita loves including those moments.”

“From the top?” he asked.

“Sure, why not?” Jasmine kicked back in the chair and crossed her bare feet at the ankles. “Looks like it starts with a montage. I’ll read the parts of the hosts.”

They were halfway through the second scene, which featured a Kelly Ripa–like TV host, when Jasmine tossed a wadded-up paper napkin at him. It landed on his script.

He shot her a quizzical look, and she shook her head at him.

“What’s up?” she asked. “You’re distracted. You keep looking around the room.”

“Oh.” His face warmed. “I keep waiting for your cousins to barge through the door.”

Her teasing expression smoothed and her gaze turned hot. “They don’t know you’re here.”

“No? I thought you told them everything.”

She shook her head slowly, her eyes never leaving his. “Not everything.”

And there it was. An allusion to the previous night.

Suddenly, Ashton couldn’t breathe. His chest tightened, his skin heated, and before he could talk himself out of it, he tossed his script on the floor and reached for her.

They came together, Jasmine all but leaping onto his lap to straddle his legs. He planted his hands on her round ass and squeezed as her mouth crushed down on his.

“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.