Mine to Crave (Mine 4)

Chapter Nine

She’d just had sex in an elevator.

Jasmine lifted her head from Drake’s chest. He was slowly pulling out of her body, and that glide sent off little aftershocks in her core. Helplessly, she felt herself squeeze him tight, one more time.

Her breath sighed out at the rush of pleasure.

“I…didn’t mean what I said.”

Her lashes lifted. He was straightening his clothes. She should probably do the same. Especially since her half-naked image was being tossed back to her courtesy of those mirrored walls.

But…Drake beat her to the punch. He bent and the guy eased her jeans back on her. Carefully. Slowly. He even paused to check her bandage. Like those stitches would have slowed her down.

Then he tucked her torn panties into his pocket.

“Ah…what you said?” She had to clear her throat because her voice came out way too husky. Jasmine had no idea what he’d said before. She was pretty lost.

Still kneeling before her, Drake glanced up. His eyes seemed to blaze at her. “I’m not done with you.”

He should be. “Drake…”

In one quick, fluid motion, he rose before her.

She put her hand on his chest. “I am a liar. And I’m a thief.” The words had hurt, but the truth often did.

His gaze narrowed. That green stare seemed to measure her as it moved slowly over her face, then down to the hand that pressed not just over his chest, but right over his heart. She could feel the strong, steady beat beneath her fingertips.

“Maybe,” he allowed.

There was no maybe there.

“But you’re my thief,” and his voice had hardened. He kissed her then. That mind-numbing kiss of his and she pretty much sank into him. “Don’t forget it,” he muttered against her lips.

As if she could.

Then he pulled away. Put in his security code and had the elevator doors opening. He exited the elevator and offered her his hand. Taking it, Jasmine hesitated. “This is the first place the cops will look for me. You know that, right?” They might as well flash a neon sign.

He didn’t appear concerned. Not even a little. “Then we’ll just have to make certain they don’t find you here.” He sounded so confident. “It’s not like you’ll be staying long.”

Uh, she wouldn’t be?

“Give me a bit to make arrangements. I can have you out of town in an hour. I’ll get us on a private flight and I can make you vanish.”

So tempting. But… “I can’t leave Victor.” As it was, she’d have to find out which hospital he was in. As soon as it was safe, she’d contact him again and find out what needed to happen next.

Drake’s jaw locked as they entered his apartment—that was what she thought of that place as, anyway. It sure had all the comforts of home. And had she really just left from that exact spot hours ago? So strange. It had seemed like much more time passed. “I didn’t think I’d be coming back here.”

“You sacrificed yourself for me.”

She glanced back at him. His shoulders were propped against the door, and his arms were crossed over his chest. Jasmine couldn’t read the expression on his face, no matter how hard she tried.

And to think, she was usually pretty good at reading people. She pressed her lips together a moment, then said, “Maxwell killed the bounty hunter, we both know that. I was just trying to…to make less trouble for you.”

“Maybe I want trouble.”

Her eyes widened at that.

“No more lies, Jasmine.”

Ah…

“I’ve been playing nice with you.”

He had? Wow. What was he like when he played rough?

“I warned you about lying, and you are already due some punishments.”

Kissing hardly counted as punishments.

“But I’ve got questions for you, and I want the honest truth.” He advanced toward her, a lion stalking his prey. “Do you understand?”

Jasmine shook her head. “I’m sorry, but there are some things I just can’t tell you.” More than her life was at stake.

Her answer didn’t even slow him down. “Why weren’t you in cuffs?”

“Um, what?”

“At the crash site, you weren’t in handcuffs, but when Victor loaded you into the SUV, he had both of your hands cuffed.”

She glanced down at her wrists. “He took them off.”

Drake reached for her hands. That was when she realized that she had scratches and cuts on her palms.

Drake must’ve noticed the damage, too, because he swore and pulled her toward the bathroom.

“It’s all right,” Jasmine tried to tell him when he began to wash the wounds. “I just…some of the bullets hit the windshield, and I put up my hands so that my face wouldn’t get cut by the glass.”

He stilled then and the air in the bathroom seemed to grow very, very tense. Drake’s head turned, and his eyes met hers. “The bullets could have torn right through you.”

“They didn’t,” she whispered back. “I’m all right. I’m here, with you.”

“What if I hadn’t appeared on that street?” The words were hard, but the fingers moving against her skin—cleaning her once more so carefully and bandaging her wounds—they were gentle.

“I’d be dead.”

“No.”

Drake was incredibly powerful, but even he couldn’t stop death.

“I-I think my hands are okay. The scratches were light.” She’d had so much worse. Good thing she had such a high pain tolerance.

He eased away from her. His broad shoulders seemed to fill the doorway. “I keep forgetting how fragile you are.”

Jasmine laughed at that. “Actually, no, you don’t.”

His brows shot up.

“Even when we were in the elevator, and I was so wild I wanted to scratch my way down your back, you held me still…you moved me, made sure that I didn’t pull any stitches.” His hands had been so secure on her. Controlling her movements. Giving her so much pleasure. “You don’t forget anything.” She was certain of that.

His lips twisted in a humorless smile. “Princess, that wasn’t about your stitches. I’m a selfish bastard, and I just wanted to screw you deep and hard.”

“Liar,” she barely breathed the charge but Jasmine knew it was the truth.

For a moment, he looked lost, then he blinked, and that image was gone.

“You play so tough, but I can see through you. You didn’t hurt me in the elevator. You didn’t hurt me any time that we’ve been together. Because at heart, you aren’t a killer. You aren’t the bad guy.” That was what made him different from Maxwell.

“What am I?”

“A protector.” That was why he’d fought so hard for her on the street. Why, when the SUV exploded behind them, he’d tried to shield both her and Victor.