He did. Allergies be damned. He gave the song his all, copying Ricky Martin’s mannerisms and revving his voice. Theothers danced and sang along, urging on his theatrics. Through it all, he kept finding Jasmine’s eyes shining at him from across the room.
It was all for her. He wanted Jasmine to see him, the real him. Ángel Luis, the boy who’d grown up dreaming of being a big movie star. And Ashton, the man who ran around with his son playing superheroes.
He wanted to tell her everything, but he couldn’t. Instead, he let her see a glimpse of who he felt himself to be inside... through the words and moves of the great Ricky Martin.
When it was over, the crowd, as they say, went wild. Jasmine found him and slipped a hand around his waist when no one was looking.
“You’re amazing.” Genuine admiration glowed on her face, lighting him up from within. Then she winked and grabbed the mic from him as “Jenny from the Block” flashed across the screen in garish pink. “But let me show you how it’s done.”
Jasmine raised the mic to her mouth. “Gotta remember your roots,” she said, then proceeded to serenade the room with a powerful rendition of JLo’s early hit about growing up in the Bronx.
Ashton couldn’t take his eyes off her. She shone like the brightest star in the sky, commanding the heart and imagination. Everything else paled in comparison to her radiance.
He should leave. Watch some TV, go to sleep, wake up tomorrow with new resolve to keep his distance. His life was complicated enough without developing feelings for his costar.
Instead, Ashton drank more. He sang more. He chatted with the others and shared a basket of french fries—his weakness—withNino. And somehow, he never lost track of Jasmine. She appeared at his side periodically, checking in on him, handing him wine, water, tissues. Touching his waist, his back, his arm. Driving him wild with her smiles and small touches.
And despite his reservations, he touched her too. With as close as they got on set, it seemed normal to rest his hand on her hip when she reached past him to steal a fry, or to trail his fingers down her arm while she whispered anecdotes to him about the songs, her lips achingly close to his ear, sending tingles across his scalp.
He already knew the feel of her mouth under his. But those kisses had been choreographed, controlled, and scrutinized by others. He wanted to know how shetasted.
As Lily treated them all to a wild interpretation of a Shakira song, Jasmine found her way to his side once again.
“I’m going to go back to the hotel,” she told him, pitching her voice low.
“I’ll go with you.” The words came without forethought. He knew how it would look if they left together, but he didn’t give a shit. As much fun as he was having with the rest of the cast, he didn’t want to be there without her.
“Okay,” she said softly.
They made their farewells, delivering the expected goodbye kiss on every cheek. When Peter exclaimed, “Leaving so soon?” Ashton blamed it on his allergies, even though his nose had stopped running sometime during the night.
Outside, he and Jasmine caught a taxi back to the hotel. They rode in silence, walked through the lobby in silence, and when they stepped into the elevator, Jasmine pushed the buttonfor her floor and turned to him, blocking the control panel. The doors whooshed shut.
In a quiet voice, she asked, “Do you want to come to my room?”
Ashton searched her face, her eyes, the way she held herself. He knew this woman’s mannerisms, her body language and nonverbal cues. He knew exactly what she was asking.
And he wanted it too.
“Yes,” he said.
The elevator doors pinged open on her floor.
Chapter 22
Jasmine’s fingers trembled as she removed the key card from her purse and unlocked her hotel room door. She didn’t turn to look at Ashton as she opened it and entered the room, trusting—hoping—that he would follow her.
He did.
The second the door clicked shut behind them, he pressed her up against the wall and brought his mouth down on hers.
Jasmine dropped everything. Her arms banded around his neck, and she arched her body flush against his. His body was a revelation, all hard muscles and the thick, solid length of his cock pressing into her abdomen.
She knew his touch, his scent, the feel of his lips against hers. But this was different. This time was for real.
When his tongue slid against her lips, she opened for him with a moan.Finallythey would do this right.
Their tongues touched, tasted, caressed. His kiss was stronger, more audacious, than when he was Victor. And she relished in it.
