Damian (The Caine Brothers #3) (2 page)

“That’s your little sister?” Damian asked. “I wouldn’t have recognized her.”

“Yeah. Trust me, you don’t want to walk into that mess. They look like harmless ladies, but they’ll eat you alive.”

He glanced down at her with a smile that bordered on condescending. “I think I can handle a few women.”

She snorted. “Oh, honey. Military or not, you’d be in so much trouble with them.”

“I’m pretty skilled. They don’t let just anyone into the SEALs, you know.”

She could only imagine how skilled he was. Damn. She’d crushed on him as a teenager, but of course he’d only seen her as another one of the guys. If she wanted to play baseball, he’d be all over it. If she’d wanted to go on a date, his preferences had been elsewhere with softer, prettier girls. Then he’d turned eighteen and left, and she hadn’t thought about him because it wasn’t long before other boys started to notice her.

But she’d never completely forgotten him.

“Not like these women. These take special training beyond even what you’ve had. My original assessment stands.”

“I’m hurt.”

She patted his arm. “I’m sure you’ll get over it.” They climbed the steps to the deck and entered the kitchen, teeming with catering staff. “Where are the fresh kegs?” she asked the nearest worker.

“In the cooler in the basement, ma’am,” he said, his heavily accented Spanish rolling off his tongue. “But we can take care of it. You don’t need to.”

“It’s okay. We’ve got it,” she said, waving the guy off.

She took Damian’s hand—wide with long, strong fingers—and led him through the gauntlet of catering staff to the stairs, and headed down.

The basement space below the kitchen had been divided into a central work space surrounded by a pantry lined with shelves full of all kinds of foods, a wine cellar filled with an obscenely huge collection of wine, a walk-in cooler, and a walk-in freezer. When she and the rest of her five siblings had lived at home the basement food cellar had still been ridiculous. No family needed that much food storage. But her father never did anything small. He had to have the best of everything. She’d given up trying to understand it years ago.

“Cooler’s over there,” she said, pointing it out for him.

“That’s it?” he asked. “No, ‘gee, it’s good to see you after all these years, what have you been up to?’”

“It
is
nice to see you. You look as good as you always have.” She seriously wanted to lick him he looked so good. She’d had no idea he’d be at the party and running into him had her off balance to the point she had to remind herself to maintain her cover. “More man handsome than boy handsome, but still good. And I know what you’ve been up to. You joined the Navy and became a SEAL and I assume you trek all over the world doing super secret military stuff.”

His grin made things flutter in her belly. “So you’ve been keeping up on me,” he said.

“I see your ego has grown along with the rest of you.”

He laughed. “You’re funny.”

“Yep, that’s me. Funny. But don’t ask me to go chase snakes or anything. I’ve grown out of that stuff.”

“Oh? What have you grown into?”

If only she could tell him. He’d be shocked. Everybody would. Timid, proper Elena was anything but. But he didn’t mean professionally; he meant personally and that she was more than willing to show him. In fact, images of all the things she wanted to do with his man-body popped into her head and made her skin flush with eagerness. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“You have no idea.”

He was dead serious. She could see it in his eyes. Holy shit. She’d mostly just been flirting because despite how often he’d been her fantasy of choice in the midst of her awkward teenage self-satisfaction sessions, she never thought in a million years she’d get a chance to actually have sex with him.

Now, the lusty willingness in his eyes had her flummoxed. Turned on like a raging wildfire, but still surprised.

“How about you get that keg?”

“Whatever you say.”

Elena watched him go. She may have licked her lips, though her focus on his retreating form made it difficult to remember. His khaki board shorts hugged his ass just right, while the white linen shirt strained to contain his shoulders. His short, spiked blond hair begged to be mussed, while her skin tingled to feel the scrape of his stubble.

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.”

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.”