“I’m not most women.” And she was back to having her nose pressed to the nearest window. She stared out at the city as if it were the most amazing sight that she’d ever seen.
He kept his eyes on her.
His driver, Matthew, dropped them off near the riverfront.
“I hear jazz!” Jasmine exclaimed excitedly.
That was because a man was playing a saxophone less than ten feet away.
Jasmine hurried through the crowd and stopped near the man. Then she just listened, apparently spellbound, as he played.
Drake kept watching her.
She was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. What was real with her? The enthusiasm and happiness she was showing now? Or the tricks she’d shown back at the Arrow? The lock picking. The seduction.
He put money down for the musician and led Jasmine toward her beignets. When she bit into one, powdered sugar slid over her upper lip.
His gaze locked on that lip.
Jasmine moaned. “Incredible.” She devoured the beignet, licking her lips, savoring the sugar.
“Sweet,” Drake muttered.
Her gaze slid to his. “You should…have a taste.”
He leaned toward her and licked away the soft powder near her upper lip.
Her breath caught. “Drake…”
He pulled back. Stared at her.
“Thank you.”
Drake didn’t like it when she thanked him. He didn’t want her gratitude, not for buying her a simple beignet. He wanted…her.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Her head turned at the sound, and she stared out at the river.
“We should go,” he told her, aware that his voice sounded gruff. “A storm’s coming.” He could smell it in the air.
“I’ve never minded a storm.”
No, she wouldn’t.
They stood there, staring at the water, as the raindrops began to fall.
Then, because he couldn’t help himself, because he wanted her and he was going to take exactly what he wanted, Drake turned Jasmine in his arms. He kissed her. Tasted the sweetness on her lips. Tasted the rain.
Tasted desire.
Her hands wound around his neck as she leaned into him. She was kissing him eagerly, seeming to hold nothing back.
Good. Because from that moment forward, there would be no stopping or holding back.
Not for either of them.
He had a house in the French Quarter, one away from the wildness of Bourbon Street, and he took her there. His driver was close, and he picked them up quickly. Within minutes, they were heading down the lane that would take Drake to his house.
Then Jasmine is mine.
Jasmine…Now that they were in the car, She was back to staring out the window. And he was watching her. Drake…liked watching her.
Her hair was wet around her shoulders. Her clothes clung tightly to her body.
He wanted her naked.
He’d have her that way.
When they reached his house, he hurried from the car.
“It’s incredible,” Jasmine whispered as she stared up at the house. Illuminated by faint porch lights, the Victorian stood strong in the surrounding darkness. “Gorgeous.”
He caught her fingers with his. The rain was still falling, but Jasmine didn’t seem to care. She was laughing as they hurried inside.
For a moment, he almost wanted to laugh, too.
He took her upstairs. Pulled her against him. The wet clothes let him feel every inch of her body. Tight ni**les, pebbled hard.
From the cold?
From need?
He stared into her eyes. “I’m going to f**k you.”
Her lashes flickered. “You could try making love to me.”
His jaw locked. “This isn’t about love.” Emotions didn’t enter into the equation for him.
Sadness swept over her face for an instant. He wondered if she’d pull back. If she’d try to play him.
Instead, her hand slid over the stubble that lined his jaw. “Maybe one day, you’ll change your mind. Maybe one day, you’ll love someone.”
He caught her hand. Held it in a too tight grip. “I want to f**k you. Now.” He couldn’t be more clear.
Her wet hair slid over her shoulders. “Then what are you waiting for?” The sadness was gone, and he wasn’t sure if it had ever really been there. He just knew he had the woman he wanted in his arms, and Drake wasn’t going to wait any longer.
He stripped her. Peeled those wet clothes from her body even as she kicked away her heels.
Her bra was a lacy temptation. Her br**sts full and round, and when he tossed the bra away and those br**sts spilled into his hands…Perfect.
He threw aside her pants. Nearly shredded her panties. This time wasn’t about softness and seduction. This was about need. Want. Desire that was running unchecked through him.
Too long.
He needed to f**k. Hard and fast. More, he needed to f**k her.
Her mouth called to him, those plump lips teasing him. He took her lips and thrust his tongue deep even as he backed her up to the bed.
“Your clothes—” Jasmine gasped against his mouth.
Then he tumbled her onto the bed. He didn’t give a shit about the bed getting wet from his clothing.
He needed to touch her.
His hands learned her first. He started with her br**sts. Plucking the ni**les. Loving the way they went so tight at his touch. He stroked her, cupped her.
She arched into him. Her breath came in little gasps that made his c**k grow even harder.
Want in her.
His hand swept over the curve of her stomach. But when his fingers skimmed along the edge of her bandage, Drake froze.
What the hell am I doing? She’s hurt! He tried to pull back.
“Don’t even think of stopping,” Jasmine said, her voice a sensual demand. “I need you, Drake. I. Need. You.”
Every muscle in his body ached for her. “I’m too rough. You’re hurt—”
“Pain…is the last thing I feel right now. Don’t stop.”
And he knew he couldn’t. “I’ll use care.” Somehow, he would. His hands slid down her body. Down…down…right to the heat between her thighs.
“Drake!”
He explored her. Slowly at first, caressing the sensitive flesh, but when her hips arched against him, his touch became more demanding as he thrust two fingers into her.
She was hot and tight and he knew she’d feel fantastic around him.
“I want to touch you!” She was struggling with his wet clothes. “Get these off!”
He pulled away from her, just long enough to toss his clothes across the room and grab for a condom. He rolled it on, hissing out a breath because he wanted to be balls-deep in her now.