Mine to Crave (Mine 4)

“Just a little ache,” Jasmine said as she walked around the study, poking and gazing at different things. “Nothing to worry about. I’ve had plenty worse.”

Drake didn’t like hearing that news. “How many times have you been stitched up?” He eased into the chair behind his desk. His hands flattened on the wooden surface.

“Maybe three times. Everyone has accidents.”

Bullshit. “That was no accident last night.”

She put down the hourglass that she’d been examining “You’re right. That was my mistake. I should’ve moved faster.” Her breath expelled on a sigh. “So there are accidents and there are…non-accidents.”

Locking his jaw, he motioned to the leather chair in front of his desk.

She didn’t sit.

The woman just liked to be difficult.

“Who are you working for?” Drake asked her.

“Myself?” Yes, she made it sound like a question, but then she nodded, as if she’d reached an important decision. “From here on out,” Jasmine said softly, “I am.”

She was making his head ache. “Who sent you to the Arrow?”

“I came on my own. I figured I had a better shot at getting to you there. Your house here…” She waved her hand. “It was too isolated.”

“No, you knew I kept my files there and you wanted access to them.”

Her fingers tapped against a bronze statue. The woman was touching everything. But me. “If you know all the answers, why ask the questions?”

Because he didn’t have the answers for the big questions. “Tell me who sent you.”

“So we can both make his hit list? I don’t think so.”

She looked too confident and in control. The woman should have the sense to fear him. She didn’t. “Why aren’t you afraid of what I’ll do to you?”

“Bones can be broken, flesh can be cut. Been there, done that.”

He shot to his feet.

“I survived those non-accidents,” she continued, her voice quiet, calm. “So I figure I’ll survive whatever you do to me, too.”

His hands had clenched at his sides. “Who hurt you?”

“Lists are long…and boring. The past is over. Let’s just stick to the here and now.” She turned her back. Gazed up at a painting of wild horses on the wall. “This is hideous, by the way. Why would you ever pick this out to hang it up in your study?”

“I didn’t. It came with the house.” She was trying to distract him. Nice.

He was ready to distract her, too. So he threw out the question that he knew would get a response. “Who interested you the most in that photo?”

He saw her shoulders tighten. “What photo?”

Drake sighed. “Each time you lie to me, I’ll expect something from you. An apology, of sorts.”

She turned to face him. “I don’t understand.”

Drake closed in on her. Pinned her between him and that freakishly ugly painting. “You just lied. Make it up to me.”

“H-how?”

“Kiss me.” He didn’t think she would. He just—

She leaned up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

“No, princess, not like that.” He tipped up her chin and he took her mouth. Deep, thorough. Rough. “My way.”

Her breath rasped out against him.

“Every time you lie to me,” Drake told her, aware that his voice had thickened, “you pay for it.”

Her gaze searched his. “I probably should confess…I lie a lot.”

“Then you’ll pay…a lot.”

Her hands pressed to his chest. But she didn’t push him away. Instead, it was more as if she were trying to get a feel for him. Testing his strength.

“Who sent you to the Arrow? To me?”

“You’re a man with enemies. Maybe you can figure that part out yourself.”

“What’s your role? Seduction?”

She pushed against him. Hard. A shove. But he didn’t step back so much as an inch.

Jasmine swallowed. “I told you before, I’m not a whore. Don’t ever make the mistake of calling me that again.”

“There’s a difference between seduction and prostitution. From where I’m standing, seduction seems to be one of your key talents.” She sure had made him want her easily enough.

Red lit her cheeks again. “Don’t.”

“You used your body to get to me before.” When she’d seemed so eager for him back in his private lounge. “Don’t like being called on it now?”

Her lashes lowered, shielding her eyes. “I wasn’t going to have sex with you.”

“But you knew I wanted you. You used that. And I’m betting you’ve used men’s desires against them plenty of times.” The thought had his muscles clenching. He didn’t want to think of any others in Jasmine’s life.

“Weaknesses can always be exploited.”

His hand slid down her neck. Her pulse raced frantically beneath his fingertips. “You’re too delicate for the danger you seek.”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

No, in her case, they weren’t. A twist of his hand, and she’d be dead. Maybe he should tell her about his past.

But…

No.

“I don’t know why you’re wasting time with me. Don’t you have a flight today?” Jasmine asked him as her pulse kept racing beneath his fingers. “I remember reading someplace that you were working on some big casino deal in New Orleans.”

“The eyes do help you play innocent,” he allowed as he studied her. “But that innocent routine doesn’t really work for me.”

Her gaze held his. She seemed to come to some decision as she told him, “Take some advice from me. You need to pay attention to what’s happening down in New Orleans. You’ve pissed someone off, and that particular person isn’t going to stop until he gets his pound of flesh from you.”

His fingers tightened around her throat. “A name, Jasmine. That’s what I want. Neither of us will leave this room until I get it.”

“Elvis Presley.”

He growled.

“That’s a name. My favorite all-time performer.”

He didn’t move.

“Be careful what you ask for, you just might get it.” Her pulse kicked up even more. “Do you know what will happen to me…if I talk?”

“Nothing.”

Her lips twisted, but her smile was sad.

“I’ll protect you,” he added. With his resources, protecting her would be easy.

Her smile slipped. “No, you’ll throw me away. Because you’ll have what you need from me. I know how it works. I’ve been a tool before.”

“What were you supposed to steal from me?” Drake demanded as his patience fled.

Her breath whispered out. “The plans for the casino expansion in New Orleans. The projections for your future projects in Biloxi. You’ve got some competition…someone who wants to cut you off at the knees.”