Mine to Crave (Mine 4)

He turned back to look at her. “You came to this place looking for me.”

She backed up a bit.

He let his lips curl and knew his smile wasn’t going to be reassuring. “Be very careful. You don’t want to play with me.”

He expected her to scurry away then.

But her chin notched into the air. “Maybe I do,” she said and her voice made his cock jerk. Sex and sin—that was what she sounded like just then. Taking her time, she walked toward him. He noticed her shoes then. High, black heels. So she wasn’t as tall as he’d thought.

And those heels were definitely fuck-me shoes. She can keep them on for me, but I don’t want her wearing anything else.

The vanilla scent teased his nose once more. “I came here looking for you.”

Ah, a confession.

“I know you watch from up above, like a king surveying his land.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I just don’t like crowds.” A car horn echoed through the garage.

Why was he still standing there? Why hadn’t he left her already?

Her hand touched his chest.

The heat hit him again, rushing right from her hand to his heart.

And his dick.

Ah, yes, that would be the reason I haven’t left.

“I want to go upstairs with you.” She licked her lips, a sensual glide of her little pink tongue. “I need to go up there.”

He cocked a brow.

“So I’m asking, all right?” Her voice was breathy, and he hesitated. Was that quiver from excitement—like he sure wanted to think?

Or fear?

Unfortunately, Drake was too well-acquainted with fear.

But he offered his arm to her. He saw the quick exhale that she gave. That smile of hers flashed again.

Drake had to reassess then. The smile was disarming with its flashing dimples. But it wasn’t cute, as he’d first thought.

The woman’s smile was a killer.

***

“You’re making a mistake!” Wayne Hardin snapped as the two goons dragged him out of the casino’s parking garage.

“No, it’s your mistake buddy.” Goon Number One shoved him so hard that Wayne stumbled out onto the street. A taxi missed him by about five inches, and the angry horn had him jerking.

The guards glared at him as Wayne staggered to his feet.

“You heard the boss,” Goon One said. “Stay away from his business.”

And the guy’s business was now Jasmine? This was a headache he didn’t need.

He reached inside his coat.

“Don’t!” The sharp bark came from both guards.

Wayne stilled. “I wasn’t reaching for a weapon. You two already patted me down. You know I’m not armed. I was getting my ID!”

They turned away.

“I’m a bounty hunter! That little redhead who just sucked in your boss—she’s wanted in Texas!”

The door slammed shut behind them.

“Sonofabitch.” Wayne huffed out a hard breath as the lights of Vegas blazed down on him. Bright, blinking lights. So far away from the darkness of his Texas nights. “I hate this town,” he muttered.

He tilted back his head and stared up at the Arrow. Jasmine was in there. Thinking she was all nice and snug. Safe for the night. Safely away from him.

She was dead wrong.

He intended to collect on the bounty that was being offered for her. Giving up wasn’t part of his personality.

Soon enough, she’d be the one tossed into the street. Maybe she thought cuddling close to Drake Archer would offer her some kind of protection.

Think again, sweetheart.

He’d be waiting for her ass to hit the street. And when it did…

You’re mine, Jasmine. He’d take her back to Texas, bound and gagged if necessary.

Chapter Two

The door shut behind her with a faint click. Jasmine absolutely didn’t flinch, but she wanted to, and her muscles ached from stiffness. Her whole body was locked down because she didn’t want to show any weakness in front of Drake.

I’m here. I just have to take this whole business one step at a time.

“What’s your name?”

His voice rolled over her. Low and hard, a sexy, deep growl that had caught her off-guard when she’d heard him speak in the garage.

He had caught her off-guard. The shadows had surrounded him. Made Drake appear dark and dangerous. Well, he was dark and dangerous. Tanned skin. Tall and muscled, with broad shoulders that just stretched and stretched.

Yum.

“Your name.”

Crap. She’d just been standing there, staring into his green eyes. Talk about not playing it cool. “Jasmine.”

Wait, she probably should have given him a fake name, but no…that jerk downstairs had called her Jasmine, hadn’t he? It was better to just stick to the truth. A bit, anyway. She forced herself to smile. “Last names aren’t important, are they?”

Hers was, and she planned to keep her mouth closed about it.

“You don’t look like the type.” He headed toward the bar on the right side of the room. There were at least four giant bars downstairs, but the guy had his own stash up there in his private lounge area.

Someone was overindulged a bit.

He popped open a champagne bottle. Poured the bubbly into a slender flute, then brought it back to her.

She took the flute quickly. Gulped down the champagne.

His brows rose. “Not the type,” he said again, voice musing.

She was so messing this up. “What type is that?”

His gaze swept over her. Lingered on her breasts. Her hips. Her legs. The green of his eyes seemed to heat, and Jasmine found herself clutching that champagne flute in a too tight grip. So tightly that she was afraid she might just shatter the thing.

“You aren’t dressed for seduction.”

Mostly because she didn’t have tons of clothing options at that moment. But, jeez, hadn’t he seen her shoes? Those were kick-ass sexy. She shifted her feet a bit, hoping to draw his attention there.

His gaze came back to her face. “Thief.”

It was a good thing she’d gulped the champagne. If she’d been lightly sipping right then, Jasmine would’ve choked. “Wh-what?”

He smiled. His smile made her nervous. It was too knowing. And it seemed to hold a threat. Smiles weren’t supposed to be threatening. They were supposed to be warm and reassuring. Apparently Drake had missed the memo on that one.

He took the empty champagne glass from her hand. His fingers brushed hers. Okay, now the guy was just making it hard for her to breathe. He put the flute down on a nearby table and then his hand came back. Those fingers of his—warm, strong, and slightly callused at the tips—curled under her chin. “You’re dressed like a jewel thief or a cat burglar.”

She felt heat sting her cheeks. “Know a lot about burglars, do you?”