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 br**sts. 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?”
“I know you aren’t what you seem, not at all. This isn’t about sex, is it?”
Jasmine inched closer to him. “Kiss me, and find out.”
“Is that what you said to the jerk downstairs?” Anger hummed in those words.
Jasmine shook her head. “You shouldn’t just watch…” And wasn’t that exactly what he was doing? Shutting himself away up there and watching the world below?
She pushed higher onto her toes.
But she didn’t need to press upward. He was already bending over her. His mouth pressed to hers.
This wasn’t anything like the kiss downstairs. His mouth was hard, but sensual. He explored her lips. Stroked her, and when she gasped against him, his tongue thrust into her mouth.
Wow. The guy definitely knew how to kiss. He’s better than I am. A whimper built in her throat. She’d thought—mistakenly, obviously—that she was skilled. Drake was in a whole new category. The make-you-weak-in-the-knees category. Her knees were already jiggling.
Her lips parted even more for him—because Jasmine wanted to make sure that she savored this experience. The man’s taste was incredible. Enough to make her feel a little drunk, and, as a rule, Jasmine never got drunk.
Her hands grasped his shoulders. Her short nails sank into his coat. Her br**sts were aching, the ni**les tight…just from his kiss.
He was controlled. Deliberate. He seemed to take his time caressing her, and she liked that. She liked far too much about him.
A pity, since she’d been sent to betray him.
His head lifted, and their lips broke apart. She sucked in a breath then, gasping for that last taste of him. A girl had to enjoy her moments when she could. Then she forced her eyes to open.
There was desire on the hard planes of his face. In the glint of his green eyes. He wanted her, as much as she wanted him. She could certainly feel that proof in the hard thrust of his c**k against her.
She didn’t speak for a moment. Jasmine normally had plenty to say, but she found that she didn’t want to speak at all in that moment. Maybe because she didn’t want to lie to Drake.
Maybe because she wished that things were different.
“Unexpected…” His voice came out as a deep rumble.
Yes, he certainly was unexpected. Not an easy mark. Not a man to use and forget. More like a man who would haunt her long after she’d slipped from his life.
She was too conscious then of the watch around her wrist. Jasmine knew she should be monitoring the time. Oh, so carefully, especially because of that little detour she’d been forced to take to the parking garage.
But she didn’t move. She kept her body against his and kept pretending that she was just a woman who wanted the man before her.
“I like the way you taste,” Drake told her.
She could’ve given the same words right back to him, only “like” seemed to be far too tame of a word. She wanted to drink him in, to take more…to take everything that the guy had to give.
A faint vibration shook her wrist. Her alarm. Quickly, Jasmine pulled her left hand away from Drake, hoping that he hadn’t felt that slight movement of her watch. But he was still staring at her with the gaze that had gone hard and dark with lust.
She had a role to play. Jasmine was supposed to smile up at him then, give some flirtatious line, and keep him distracted for a few more minutes. She should have done that, but instead, she heard herself say, “I have a problem. I tend to want what I can never have.”
Holy hell. Those words had not been on her agenda.
A faint furrow appeared between his brows. “What is it that you want?”
Right then…you. Jasmine pulled in a deep breath. One more. She tried to steady her racing heartbeat. No luck there. “I’ll be gone in the morning.”
She didn’t even have a hotel room in Vegas. It wasn’t a pleasure trip. Just business.
She was there to destroy Drake.
The man had no idea just how many enemies he’d made. Or maybe he did know, and he didn’t care.
“We can have tonight,” she said, lifting her chin before she realized what she was doing. Jasmine could’ve cursed herself for that little “give.” She’d been warned about it before. She notched her chin when she was scared, and she was never, ever supposed to show fear—not real fear, anyway.
But Drake’s big, warm hand curled around her waist. “Damn straight,” he said, voice thick with his own hunger. “Let’s enjoy the night.”
His head lowered toward hers once more.
His lips were an inch away from hers. A breath of space. Jasmine wanted that space gone.
A shrill alarm cut through the room. Right on time.
Drake jerked away from her. “What in the hell?”