Mine to Crave (Mine #4)(81)

“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, *, 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 f*ck-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.”