Mine to Crave

Drake’s jaw locked.

“When her eyes opened, you were the first thing that she asked about. You.”

His chest ached.

“How many enemies do you have out there, Archer? Do you even know? How many of them would love to hurt you…by going after Jasmine? By going after the woman you love?”

“Too many to count.” Did the agent think he hadn’t realized this? He didn’t want Jasmine hurt. That was why he’d stayed with the FBI guards. Why he hadn’t gone back to the hospital, when every cell in his body was screaming for her.

He never wanted to see her bloody and in pain again.

“Shit. You didn’t deny it.” Victor shoved away from the table. “You were supposed to deny it!” His hands flew into the air.

Drake rose to his feet. “I won’t put her at risk again.” He’d been selfish. He could see that now. And though he felt like he was cutting out his own heart, Drake made himself say, “I won’t pull her back into my life.” He couldn’t—because he couldn’t put her at risk ever again.

He was more than obsessed. He was lost in her. And if he didn’t stay away, while he could, he knew that Jasmine would never be free of him.

Victor pointed at him. “You didn’t deny it!”

No, of course not. “It’s my fault she was hurt—”

“Loving her, you dick,” he gritted out. “You didn’t deny loving her.”

Why lie?

Victor swung away. Marched toward a wall. Banged his head against it.

What the hell?

“The holidays are gonna be a bitch,” Victor muttered as his shoulders slumped.

Weren’t they always? Especially since Drake spent them alone. “You’re sure she’s going to recover?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure. Jazz is a fighter, always has been.” He pushed away from the wall. “But you can’t see her now. The cases she was working, they aren’t closed, and I need her out of the public eye. I need her safe.”

He didn’t want to just see her. He wanted to hold her. To never let go.

“I thought I’d be able to protect her,” Drake said slowly. “I was wrong. I won’t be making that mistake again.”

Victor laughed. “Hell, yeah, you will. It just won’t be today.” He waved toward the door. “You’re free to go.”

Drake blinked. “Just like that?”

“Just like that. Sorry for the inconvenience for the last—um, forty-eight hours.”

Drake paced toward him.

Victor held up his hands. “She wouldn’t like it if you kicked my ass.”

Drake was so tempted…but Victor was right. “Make sure she has a good life.”

“Uh…”

“A perfect life, got it? No worries, no fears, not ever. You give her everything that she could possibly want because if I find out her life isn’t perfect, I will be back to kick the ever loving hell out of you.” He held Victor’s gaze to make sure that message was received, then he swung on his heel and headed for the door.

“I think she loves you, too.”

The thunder of Drake’s heartbeat filled his ears. “I’m not a good man to love. She’s better off without me.” For once, once, he’d put someone else first in his life. She deserved more than a damaged guy like him.

“I think so, too…” Victor’s murmur followed him from the room. “But I don’t know if Jasmine will buy that.”

Drake glanced back.

“Maybe we are alike,” Victor added, his expression turning thoughtful.

What?

“And if it were me, I wouldn’t be able to walk away from the woman I wanted more than life. Not without it ripping me apart.”

Drake glared at him. How the hell do you think I’m feeling right now?

“So let’s see how long this lasts…I’m betting when Jazz is free and clear, you’ll run her down and never let her go.”

“I want her happy.”

“Yeah, me, too. That’s why I’m telling you…treat her well, asshole, or you’ll find a knife at your back when you least expect it.”

That didn’t sound like a warning from an FBI Agent. Instead of leaving, Drake headed back into the little room. He waited until he was a foot away from Victor. Then he growled, “Keep her safe or that knife will wind up in your throat.”

Instead of looking intimidated, Victor laughed. “Damn straight.”

Drake glared at the fool. Then he left and with every step he took, he thought of Jasmine.

He had a feeling that she would always be in his mind. Always.

Chapter Sixteen

Drake wasn’t looking for trouble. He wanted oblivion. He grabbed his glass and downed the whiskey in one gulp. Below him, the crowd at his club was a writhing mass. Too many bodies. Heat. Lust. Laughter.

Once upon a time, he would have looked down there and found a woman to seduce. He’d have taken the pleasure to push away the numbness that seemed to fill his life.

Only he wasn’t numb any longer. He ached, he hurt, every minute of the day. Because she was gone.

He should have been able to move on. He’d done the right thing, the good thing, for once. Shouldn’t that have meant something?

Two months. Two long, hellish months had passed. He hadn’t touched another woman in that time. Drake didn’t want anyone else. Only her.

He didn’t even know where Jasmine was. Had the FBI given her a new life somewhere else? Was she still a blonde or was she back to that sexy red?

Did she ever think of him? Because sleeping or awake, she seemed to consume him. Dreams of her were driving him to the brink of sanity. It was getting so bad that he was actually starting to imagine he saw her…

His gaze raked the crowd and locked on the figure of a slim redhead. Her back was to him, and all he could see was the soft fall of her hair—and the black of her clothing. A form-fitting turtle neck and black pants.

And fuck-me heels.

His hands rose and pressed against the glass.

Can’t be her. Can’t be. I’ve seen other redheads. Thought they were her…see her everywhere…Can’t. Be. Her.

The woman got a drink from the bar, then, taking her time, she turned in her seat.

All of the breath left Drake’s lungs.

She tilted back her head. Lifted her left hand. And crooked her finger up at him.

Jasmine.

She shouldn’t be there. He’d made the sacrifice. He’d let her go once. There was no way that he’d let her go again. She had to know that.

She smiled up at him. He couldn’t see her dimples, not from that far away.

How did she know that he was even there? The glass was tinted—just as it had been the first time he saw her in his club—but she still seemed to stare right at him.

Trouble.

Everything he wanted.

Drake whirled away from the viewing window and rushed down to the club. He couldn’t move fast enough. Couldn’t get to her soon enough. And when he burst into the club and the pounding music reached his ears, he couldn’t see her over the mass of bodies. He wanted those people out of his way. He wanted the only one who mattered to him.

“Hey, boss,” one of his waiters called. “What are you doing on the floor?”

Because he never came down there. Not anymore.

Not—

Jasmine.

She was still at the bar. One high-heeled foot swayed softly to the music.

He shoved some drunk guys out of his way, ignored their swearing, and closed in on her. At the last moment, she turned toward him. Her eyes widened—deep, dark eyes.

“Hello, Drake.”

His hands closed around her arms. He yanked her off that barstool and up against him even as his mouth crashed down on hers.

She tasted just like he remembered. Like every dream he’d ever had. Like everything he wanted but didn’t deserve.

She was soft and lush against him. Fitting him perfectly. His hands snaked around her, and he held her even tighter. His tongue drove into her mouth and when she moaned and kissed him back just as frantically, he was pretty sure he’d lost his mind.

“You can’t be here,” he managed. You’re safe. You’re far away.

“I am here,” Jasmine whispered as her lips pulled from his. “This is exactly where I want to be.”

His breath heaved out of him. The music was pounding so loudly he wasn’t sure he’d even heard her correctly. He kept her hand in his—won’t let go—and he pulled her from that bar. Took her to his private elevator. When the doors closed, he yanked her against him again.

Desire churned within him. Too hot and hard to restrain. He should be careful. He should back away from her.

Yet he just kept pulling her closer.

The elevator dinged, and he hurried them to his room. His grip on her hand remained unbreakable. The door closed behind her, sealing them inside.

“Drake—”

He took her mouth. Needed to. His hands flattened on either side of her head, and he tasted her. Not a dream. She’s real. She’s with me again.

Her hands were on his chest. Warm and soft.

He wanted to be naked.

Wanted everything with her.

He heard her moan, and it was music to his ears. She wanted him. She’d come back to him.

Hanging tight to his control—because he knew it would be breaking soon—Drake managed to pull back, but he couldn’t let her go. “You shouldn’t…be here.” He hated the rough, ragged sound of his own voice.

“You’re here.” Her dark eyes stared up at him. “That means here is the only place I want to be.”

Christ. She was breaking him. “I tried to do the right thing with you.” His hand slid down her body. Carefully, so very carefully, and he remembered her blood pumping between his fingers. “I wanted to keep you safe before, but I’m the one who took you straight to Maxwell.”

“No, Drake. You’re the one who saved me.”

How could she believe that? How could she look up at him with those eyes that seemed to see straight through him? She should see him for what he was—and then run screaming.

But I can’t let her go now.

“I walked away once, how am I supposed to do it again?” Victor should have kept her away.

Jasmine shook her head, sending her red hair brushing over her cheeks. “You don’t walk away again. Neither do I. My cases are closed, and I’m free.” She licked her lips and arousal knifed through him. “I want to be with you. And I-I hope you still want me.”

“Only every damn minute.”

Her lips trembled into a smile.

“But you have to be careful,” Drake warned her. “You have to know…I can’t have you again and let you go.” That wasn’t the way he worked. “You shouldn’t have come back.”

Her hands rose. Curled around his neck. “And you shouldn’t have stayed away for so long. I’m not afraid of you, Drake Archer.”

Why not? He’d nearly cut out a man’s heart in front of her.

“I’m not afraid of you. Not of any enemies that you have. What I am afraid of…I’m afraid of being without you. Because that’s not how I want to live. That’s not how I can live. I need you. I love you.”

Her words rocked right to his core.

And sealed her fate.

“It’s done,” Drake managed to say, the words gravel-rough and final.

She blinked at him.

“I tried to be good, but, now princess, it’s too late.” He lifted her up, using so much care, and he sat her on the edge of his desk.

“Drake?”

He stripped her. Tossed her clothes away. Kept that stranglehold on his lust.

“Too late,” Drake said again as his fingers trailed up her bare thigh. “I can’t ever let you go now. You came back…that was your mistake…”

“Not a mistake. Not…ah…I missed you…”

His fingers were between her legs. He was going to use care with her, even if it killed him, but he had to get inside of her. Because then maybe the terrible ache he felt would end.

Maybe.

Or maybe it never would vanish because Drake would never forget the fear he’d felt when he thought that he’d lost her.

She was already wet for him.

He was burning alive for her.

Drake pulled her to the edge of the desk. Her legs rose around him. She smiled.

He was lost.

He damn near ripped his clothes away, then Drake pushed into her, locking all of his muscles because he wanted to drive deep and take and take and take.

But he didn’t. Slowly, inch by inch, he filled her. Sweat broke out on his brow as he held to his control. Then he was sheathed fully inside of her. As close to heaven as he’d ever get.

He pulled back. Thrust again, slowly, so slowly.

“Drake!”

She tried to push against him. He curled his fingers around her hips and held her there. He’d give her pleasure. As much as she could handle. And she’d never leave him.

Never.

He kept one hand on her hip, and his other slid between their bodies. Her eyes were on his. Her face flushed. Her breath panting.

Wet. Tight. Hot.

He strummed her clit. Worked her with slow touches and took her with long thrusts. Her breath panted out even faster. She choked out his name.

When she came, he felt the contraction of her delicate muscles all along his cock. That silken caress drove him over the edge and his own release pounded through him. He grabbed for the desk in that frantic moment, because he didn’t want to hold her too fiercely. He nearly broke the desk as the climax churned through his body. Hot. Intense. The fucking best release of his life. The pleasure left him shuddering.