Mine to Crave (Mine 4)

He was taking her back to his casino. Since he had extra security there, he figured it was the safest place in the city. “I’m just…I’m trouble you don’t want.”

“If I didn’t want you, do you really think I would’ve followed you from the police station? Do you think I would’ve shot a man for a woman I didn’t want?”

They were hitting the busier streets now. A few more turns, and he was sliding into his private entrance at the Masquerade. He stopped long enough to bark orders to the guards there. Then they were inside the parking garage. He couldn’t get her out of the car and into his private elevator fast enough. When the elevator doors closed behind them and they shot up, heading toward his quarters, he pulled her into his arms.

“Drake, look, I—”

He kissed her. Deep and long and desperately. If those SOBs in the van had taken her, he never would have seen her again. He knew that fact with utter certainty.

His hands sank into her hair as he tilted her head back. Drake felt as if he were starving, as if he’d spent his whole life on the edge of hunger—and she was…everything that he needed.

I’m as bad as Trace and Noah.

No, he was worse. Because he knew that Jasmine was no angel. And he didn’t care.

He turned their bodies, pushing her back against the mirrored wall of the elevator. His aroused cock thrust against her. He was rock hard for her, and he needed to be in her.

He tore his mouth from hers. Pressed hot kisses to her neck.

Adrenaline heated his blood. Fear. Fury. A deadly combination.

Won’t let her go. No one will take her from me.

Jasmine wasn’t standing docilely in his arms. She arched against him, and her moans and gasps just drove him on.

His hands slid down her body. He caught the snap of her jeans. Yanked those jeans open. Shoved them down her legs. The material got tangled in her shoes, but Jasmine kicked herself free.

“Drake…”

He kissed her again. Kissed her, even as he grabbed the lace of her panties and tore them away.

There was no finesse this time. No seduction. He needed in her.

He needed control. Needed the certainty of knowing that she was his. She was safe.

He lifted her up against the mirror. “Wrap your legs around me.”

She did. Drake thrust into her. Deep and long, and the desperate fear finally eased.

But the arousal didn’t. The consuming lust just grew as he withdrew and plunged into her. Again and again. He held her hips tightly, moving her to match his rhythm, forcing her to take all that he had.

She cried out his name, and he felt the clench of her delicate inner muscles around him as she climaxed.

His thrusts grew faster then. He wanted to take and take from her. Take until she realized that he was the one she needed.

The only one.

Her lips pressed lightly to his throat. She kissed him. A delicate, tender caress in the maelstrom of passion that surrounded him.

He came then, with a release so strong that his heart seemed to stop for a moment as the pleasure pulsed through every vein in his body. It swept over him, through him, and it was so good. So incredibly good. He never wanted it to end.

It was as close to paradise as Drake knew he’d ever get.

And she was climaxing again. He heard the quick catch of Jasmine’s breath and felt her stiffen against him. He kept thrusting, drawing out his own pleasure and forcing more pleasure on her.

He always wanted to give Jasmine pleasure.

He wanted to spoil her for any other lovers.

Just me, princess. Always…me.

And that last thought scared the hell out of him because he wasn’t supposed to want any woman that way. Wasn’t supposed to care about her other lovers. Wasn’t supposed to care at all.

But for her…with her…he did.

Jasmine would have no idea just how dangerous that was.

***

Saxon marched into the office that Maxwell had claimed. Maxwell noticed that the guy was moving a bit slower than normal, and…

“You’re missing someone,” Maxwell pointed out.

Saxon’s chin jerked up into the air. “We encountered a problem.”

Maxwell rose and circled around the desk. The scent of the river drifted through the window. “I don’t care about problems. I care about Jasmine.”

Or rather, he cared about silencing the bitch.

His eyes narrowed. “Is that blood on your shirt?” Because it sure as shit looked like blood soaking that shirt near the guy’s shoulder.

“I took a hit,” Saxon muttered. “Archer was there. He shot me, and he got Jazz.”

Maxwell grabbed the man, and he made sure that he dug his fingers into Saxon’s injured shoulder. “Jasmine was with the FBI Agent. You were supposed to take them both out. A simple enough order. It wasn’t time for Archer. Not. Yet.”

“He followed them!” The lines near Saxon’s mouth tightened as pain rippled across his face.

Maxwell dug his hand in a bit deeper.

“W-we had the agent controlled. Jazz was almost in the van, then Archer flew up and started shooting. We didn’t have any choice—we had to get the hell out of there.”

“One man, and you ran from him? I’m very, very disappointed in you.” When he got disappointed, people died.

“Avery was already back in the van. He was going to leave me,” Saxon snarled at him. “I was bleeding all over the street. I didn’t have a choice.”

Avery. Ah, yes, he was still a fairly new employee, and the man didn’t understand just how much Maxwell hated disappointments. He would. “Send Avery in to me.” He released Saxon. “Get your shoulder stitched up.”

Saxon backed away, but he didn’t leave. “Drake isn’t about to give that woman up again. You should’ve seen the way he fought to get her.”

Interesting. So Archer wouldn’t be surrendering Jasmine to the cops again. And if he had a twenty-four seven watch on her, well, that would make things a bit more complicated.

Not impossible, of course, just complicated.

“You both wore ski masks?” His order, but he wanted to make sure it had been followed.

“Yes.” Blood dripped from Saxon’s soaked shirt and splattered onto the floor.

“Then Jasmine has no idea you were the one who went after her.”

A quick, negative shake of Saxon’s dark head was his reply.

“Excellent.” Because if force hadn’t worked, then they’d try another method for getting to Jasmine. They wouldn’t worry about going through Archer’s guards—and the man had certainly upped his security force at his New Orleans casino—they’d just get Jasmine to come right to them.

A lamb, to the slaughter.