Damian (The Caine Brothers #3)

by Margaret Madigan

  She leaned against the nearby wall to watch and appreciate.

  With his sleeves rolled to mid-forearm, she had a fine view of flexing muscles as he opened the cooler door, and when he lifted a keg and hitched it to his shoulder as if it weighed no more than a pillow, she bit her lower lip and indulged in a lusty growl.

  He stepped out of the cooler and shut the door, standing there looking all hunky and masculine. “Lead the way, princess,” he said, flashing her a wicked grin.

  The temperature had fallen as they descended the stairs to something more tolerable than Scorching-Texas-Summer, but from the way her skin prickled with heat, she’d never know it. If she’d been wearing panties, they’d be wet.

  “Don’t call me princess.”

  “Why not?”

  “That’s what my father calls me. I’ve never really liked it.”

  “Didn’t I used to call you twerp when we were kids?”

  “I’m pretty sure it was something far less flattering. You can just call me Elena, now.”

  “I’m sure I can give you something better.”

  The moment drew out as their gazes locked. By the devilish look in his eyes, the double entendre had been purposeful, and he had plenty of things in mind.

  “A better nickname? Or something better than a nickname?” Her mind raced through all the better things she’d like him to give her. A glance down to the front of his shorts, which looked fit to burst, confirmed one of those things.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  God, the teasing foreplay had her fucking hot. She met his eyes and found no artifice about what he wanted. She had to give him credit for honesty, standing in her basement with a keg hoisted to his shoulder and a boner in his shorts.

  “Oh, I’m sure you can,” she agreed. But she wasn’t quite ready to surrender yet. She wasn’t that easy. Ten years ago she would have, but now he’d have to work for his prize. “You always come on this strong?”

  “Only when I see something I want. I figure, go big or go home.” He grinned, displaying his gorgeous teeth.

  Given the size of the bulge in his pants, she had no doubt.

  “Okay, sailor, rein it in. Let’s go replace the keg.”

  His smile dimmed a bit, like maybe he felt played, like he thought they’d come down here and he’d slam her against the wall and plunge into her and they’d be done with it. But that’s not how she did things. That’s how things would end up in the long run—she hoped—but she liked the chase. It was what made her such a good agent. A good secret agent.

  Whatever doubt he had passed when he blinked. After that he seemed to be on board. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Damian liked the way Elena checked him out. He was used to women looking at him, but it was usually followed closely by throwing themselves at him, which he was used to, too. That Elena didn’t made her even more appealing—and intriguing.

  He followed her up the stairs, that beautiful ass swaying in his face. They passed through the kitchen where the entire catering staff watched—the beautiful in-charge woman in white followed by the enormous man carrying a keg and sporting an impressive woody—and back outside to the temporary bar.

  He helped the bartender tap the new keg while still, people watched.

  “You’ve got an audience.” Elena stood nearby, her hands clasped behind her back, looking as cool as could be.

  “I have that effect on people.”

  “So you’re used to being the center of attention?”

  “If you’ll recall, I was nearly six feet tall by the time I was twelve. I just got taller and bigger from there. It’s tough not to stand out when you’re my size.”

  Elena bit her lip and her eyes twinkled with the unspoken retort about his size.

  The pretty redheaded bartender thanked him for his help, then glanced down at his shorts, and back up at his eyes, flashing a coy smile.

  It didn’t escape Elena’s attention. She took his arm and turned him toward the buffet, dragging him away from the bartender. “You’d better do something about that before you’ve got all the women here trailing after you like cats in heat.”

  Damian grinned. “That just means more to choose from.”

  She raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow, and the gesture spoke volumes. He read it to mean over my dead body. It warmed his horny heart.

  “Hungry?” she asked as they approached the buffet.

  “Starving.”

  It was the cheesiest wordplay he’d ever been part of, but man it turned him on. The inevitability of the sex hung in the air between them as heavy as the humidity, and he was all for some verbal foreplay, but in his mind he’d already begun evaluating the logistics. He couldn’t very well just sweep everything off the buffet table and take her right there, with everyone watching, so he went into mission mode. This mission was all about getting her somewhere they could have sex, so his job was to figure out the strategy for making it happen. His roaring erection calmed some once he had a purpose. He could wait.

  Elena picked up a plate and started down one side of the buffet line while Damian started opposite her. All the traditional Fourth of July foods were represented, along with some not-so-usual options. Damian loaded his plate with potato salad, fried chicken, ribs, watermelon, and roasted corn on the cob. He’d go back for dessert.

  “You sure you didn’t miss something?” Elena asked.

  “You mock me now, but you’ll be glad I carb-loaded, later.”

  He led the way to an open picnic table. He had to give the senator props for setting up the perfect holiday celebration. Between the food, red white and blue everything, back yard poolside setting, music, fireworks, families, it evoked all the right patriotic triggers.

  “Why’s that?” she asked as they sat, her eyes wide with what he hoped was fake innocence.

  “You’ll want me to have the energy to fuck you good and proper.”

  A slow smile spread across her face, igniting his erection again. “What makes you assume I’m interested in proper?” she asked.

  Shit. Generally, patience wasn’t his thing. On the job he managed it because waiting was usually short-lived and meant he and his team were about to head in and get a job done. No good reason came to mind at the moment why he shouldn’t just drag her inside and fuck her good and not-so-proper. He managed to restrain the urge to go full caveman, but only barely, and only because her father was within visual range.

  “All the more reason,” he said, shoveling potato salad into his piehole.

  She chuckled, poking a grape with her fork, the plump, juicy fruit squirting when she punctured it. Fuck. She watched him as she brought it to her mouth, sucking it for just a moment before popping it into her mouth. Fuck me now. He swallowed the lump of potato salad, never taking his eyes off her lips. Somehow, SEAL or not, he had a feeling he was way out of his league.

  “Hey bro.” Jaxon broke the spell as he slapped Damian on the back and slid onto the bench next to him, stealing a chunk of watermelon from his plate.

  “What’s up?”

  As the only non-blond of the Caine brothers, Jaxon stood out in the family. To be fair, he was dirty blond, but more dirty than blond. Today, the curly locks fell in his face and drove Damian crazy. He’d always wanted to sneak in on him—and Xander and Bishop, for that matter—and chop all that fucking hair off.

  “Just wanted to tell you I’m glad you’re here,” Jaxon said. “You’ve never come to any of my performances. So. Yeah.”

  He studied Jaxon, because he didn’t believe him. Damian was closest in age to his older brother, Xander—only fourteen months apart. But after their mother died and their father remarried, Damian had been pretty damned excited to have a little brother—Jaxon—to torture the way Hunter and Xander tortured him. When Jaxon got old enough to play with, it became clear he was a wily customer. Whereas Damian was all about brute strength, Jaxon was a more creative opponent.

  The end result was that Damian had
learned to not always trust Jaxon’s motives.

  “What do you want?”

  Jaxon laughed. “So quick to accuse. Can’t a guy just thank his brother for being there for him?”

  “He could.”

  “So I did. Are you going to introduce me to the pretty lady?”

  “Jaxon?” Elena asked.

  “Yeah.” Jaxon looked at Elena like he kind of recognized her but couldn’t really place her.

  “This is Elena Mitchell,” Damian said. “The senator’s daughter.”

  The lightbulb went on in Jaxon’s eyes. “Wow. You sure grew up hot.”

  Elena smiled a flattered, tempting little smile that ignited some possessive thing in Damian. He’d seen her first. She was his.

  “Back off, asshole,” Damian said. “Go work your rock star magic somewhere else.”

  Jaxon grinned at full wattage which only made Damian seethe. He hated tipping his hand and looking vulnerable. Especially to his brother.

  You didn’t grow up so bad, either. But I’m pretty sure I can resist your rock star charms all the same,” Elena said.

  “I take it your tastes run in a different direction?” He cocked his head toward Damian and waggled his brows.

  Damian rolled his eyes, and ripped off a piece of chicken breast with his teeth.

  Elena responded with a casual shrug. “We’ll see.”

  Which only made Jaxon laugh harder. “You been burned, brother. How about you come help me with setup while that burn cools off?”

  “Ha. I knew you wanted something.”

  Jaxon stood, putting some space between them. “When your brother’s a walking wall of muscle, why not make use of that resource whenever you can?”

  Damian didn’t like the idea of leaving Elena. If he let her out of his sight, her ardor might cool. He didn’t want that to happen because his ardor sure as hell wouldn’t and he didn’t want to start the game all over again.

  She looked at him like his thoughts were scrawled all over his face. “Go help set up the entertainment. I’ll catch up with you later,” she said. Winking, she added, “but after burning all these carbs, you might need to reload.”

  Fuck, yeah.

  She waved as he and Jaxon headed for the temporary stage at the back of the property. “Sounds like you’re in like Flynn, bro,” Jaxon said.

  “I’d have been in sooner if you hadn’t butt your ugly mug in.”

  “Keep telling yourself that, but you know damn well I’m the prettiest Caine brother.”

  “Sure, I’ll give you pretty. Like a Caine sister.”

  “Besides,” Jaxon said, waving off Damian’s insult. “Elena’s not like the rest of the women you usually bang. She’s gonna take some finesse.”

  “What would you know? Women fight each other to get backstage and throw themselves at you. When was the last time you used any finesse on a woman?”

  “I’ll admit to being an expert at banging, but that just means I recognize when a woman’s not an easy lay.”

  They reached the stage where Jaxon’s roadies swarmed like ants working to set up the show.

  Damian shook his head. “You’re awfully jaded for someone so young.”

  The usual spark in Jaxon’s eyes dimmed for just a moment, and he said, “You have no idea.”

  Just then Colton joined them, breaking the mood, and Jaxon was back to his usual self, smiling and full of energy. “A couple of my guys couldn’t be here, so thanks for helping out.”

  “No problem,” Colton said. “I’m surprised to see you here, Damian. You strike out with Elena?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You must be losing your touch if it’s taking this long.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “No thanks, I’ll pass.”

  “Idiot.” Damian grinned despite himself. “Jaxon, point us in the right direction?”

  Jaxon introduced them to the head roadie, then excused himself to get ready, but while he worked Damian wondered what Jaxon meant about being jaded. He enjoyed giving his brothers shit, but he loved them all and worried about them. When it came down to it, he may act like a smartass, but protecting people was in his blood.

  ***

  Elena finished her lunch, then spent the next couple of hours mingling. She chatted with her father, her mother, her sister, and a gaggle of corporate executives. If the rest of her siblings had been there, she’d have gone through them, too, but they’d managed believable excuses. Through the whole process she tried to figure out how to reconnect with Damian Caine in a way that didn’t seem like a desperate move to scratch the itch he’d started.

  She could easily go inside, find a private place, and scratch the itch herself, but she suspected the effort would only cool it without alleviating it completely. In this case Damian would be the only real cure.

  In the meantime, she let it simmer. While she made small talk, her body came alive. Her nipples prickled in anticipation. Her clit throbbed. Her fingers ached with the desire to explore him. She wondered what he’d taste like.

  By the time the sun had taken its own sweet time sauntering across the sky and finally decided to head for the horizon, Elena was well and truly horny. When someone announced the band would be starting its first set, she followed some of the crowd over, hoping to find Damian nearby.

  Exterior lighting on the deck came on, as did lighting around the stage, and the bar and buffet, but shadows and impending darkness claimed much of the rest of the property, lending it an exciting, magical feel.

  Jaxon’s band took the stage to cheers from the crowd, followed by Jaxon himself and a roar of approval from the audience.

  “Hey, everyone. Glad to see y’all here,” Jaxon said. “Hope you’re all having a great time.” The crowd cheered in response. “Did y’all try that fried chicken? It’s to die for.”

  While Jaxon played the crowd some, then launched into the first song, Elena scanned the audience for a huge blond SEAL.

  She finally found him resting against the side of the stage, watching her every move. When she caught his eye, he saluted.

  People had started to dance, so she scooted to the edge of the crowd and crooked her finger at him to come join her. The sixteen-year-old in her couldn’t believe her audacity. Couldn’t believe she was flirting with Damian Caine. Why in God’s name would he pay her the least bit of attention? For just a moment while she watched him watching her—that intense blue gaze sending a frisson of excitement skittered over her skin—she found herself fractured between that teenage girl and the woman she’d become.

  It didn’t take long for the woman to shove the teenager into the shadows. Sure, she’d crushed on him from afar, but Elena had become a confident adult who knew what she wanted, and right now she wanted Damian Caine.

  He pushed off the stage and stalked in her direction with the grace of a big, predatory cat. She literally salivated watching the man walk. Damn, he was fine. How she’d manage to drag this out much longer, she had no idea, but drag it she would. The longer they waited, the better it would be. In the meantime, every nerve ending in her body screamed for his touch.

  When he reached her side, he leaned down to talk into her ear so she could hear him over the band. “You want to dance?”

  She pulled back to see if he was serious. In her experience, most men didn’t like to dance unless it was a slow dance. For now, the pounding beat worked its way into her bones and made her want to move. If he wanted to dance, she was game.

  She grabbed his hand and dragged him into the part of the crowd where most of the people were dancing. Those closest to the stage just jumped up and down with their arms in the air.

  Damian surprised her with his moves. Fluid and lithe, yet still suggestive of massive power, he moved like a man comfortable in his own skin, making him one sexy dancer. All kinds of things quivered inside her just watching him.

  The song changed, slowing from the frenetic rock to a throbbing ballad. Damian reached for her hand and spun her, pulling h
er backwards into him and resting his hands on her hips as he swayed them both to the music. She leaned into him, losing herself in the rhythm of their bodies moving to the music, the hum of need dancing on her skin like popcorn in a hot pan.

  His fingers dug into her hips, pulling her tighter to him, and when she felt his cock twitch against her ass, she placed her hands on top of his to keep herself from melting in place.

  He bent near her ear and said, “If you don’t find us a place to be alone, I’m going to take you right here.”

  His hot breath on her neck, and his words in her ear dissolved her insides to molten longing. If he wasn’t careful, she’d come where she stood and he’d miss half the fun.

  She turned in his arms and his erection poked her in the belly. His groan vibrated over her skin and took her breath away. Want swirled her insides. She wanted to tuck her hands up under his shirt and explore; to feel his hands on her naked body; to feel that exquisite moment when he entered and filled her.

  Standing on her toes, she pressed herself to him, reaching his ear and said, “Follow me.”

  She laced her fingers in his and pulled him off the dance floor toward the house. It took willpower not to run, or giggle, or clap her hands in glee, but on the inside she was a kid on Christmas morning getting ready to open the biggest gift under the tree.

  She could almost taste him on her lips.

  As they reached the top steps of the deck, someone screamed.

  Damian froze and turned to scan the crowd—tense, alert, ready. Elena stepped up to the bannister next to him, but before she could even ask what was going on, Damian had taken off down the steps at a sprint, running for the pool. He kicked off his shoes as he ran and didn’t even pause before diving like a dolphin into the water and clutching a limp body that had sunk to the bottom of the pool.

  Elena hurried off the deck and shoved through the crowd that had gathered. She broke through as Damian hauled the person—it turned out to be a kid—out onto the pool deck and started CPR and mouth to mouth.

  The boy’s parents crowded Damian, his mother sobbing and trying to touch the boy’s face, while the rest of the onlookers pushed in trying to get a good look.