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

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 her 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.

“Back off,” Elena said, giving people the physical shove they needed. “Give him space to work.” She touched the father on the arm to get his attention. “Sir, could you please keep your wife back?”

The man came out of his daze long enough to nod and reach for his wife, murmuring in her ear, to encourage her to back away a few steps.

Elena pulled out her phone, ready to call 911, but Damian moved with practiced precision and confidence. Within moments, the kid gagged and coughed, and Damian rolled him to the side so the water could drain from his lungs.

The mother rushed in, clutching at the kid, who sat up looking dazed.

The father grabbed Damian’s hand and pumped it gratefully. Elena heard Damian tell the father to take his son to the hospital, and after making sure the kid was breathing and on his feet, the rest of the onlookers converged on him patting his back, shaking his hand, telling him he was a hero and had done a fabulous job.

Most of the rest of the party didn’t even notice what had happened, because it had started and ended so quickly. Only the people nearest the pool paid any attention, but now they mobbed him.

“Okay, all right, enough already,” Elena said, shoving through the people to Damian’s side. “He saved the boy’s life. Give the man some room.”

The opening chords of the band’s most recent hit blasted from the stage, and the bystanders began to disperse, heading back to the dance floor or over to the buffet or the bar. They’d be telling the story of the big man who flew into the pool and rescued the boy, all night long.

“You’re soaked,” Elena said. “Let’s get you inside and dried off.”

They headed for the house. “Don’t you mean get me out of these wet clothes?”

He had no idea. As if growing up into a six-and-a-half foot muscle-bound adonis wasn’t enough, he danced like a god, and saved small children. Seriously, how was a woman expected to resist such perfection?

He trailed behind her through the kitchen, and again the staff watched them, the heat of their eyes burning into her back until she and Damian took the back stairs up to the second floor.

She led him to her suite at the end of the hall, checking their back trail to be sure they hadn’t been followed before shoving him inside and shutting the door behind them. It reminded her very much like being in high school again and sneaking a boy in under her dad’s nose, except Damian had left before she’d lost the braces and glasses and finally got some boobs, so she’d never been able to drag him to her bedroom.

Being the daughter of a rich, prominent senator didn’t make it easy to do anything surreptitiously. In retrospect, the thrill of that kind of furtiveness might have been one of the appeals of becoming a CIA agent.

She crossed her arms and leaned against the door for a moment to catch her breath and get a good look at the huge, wet man standing in the middle of her room, dripping on the hardwood.

He fixed his gaze on her, then ran his hands through his hair shaking the resultant water from his fingers. “What?”

Wet white linen left nothing to the imagination. He may as well have been wearing plastic, yet she still wanted that shirt gone.

“I thought you were all worked up about getting out of those wet clothes,” she said.

She couldn’t speak for him, but she was about as worked up as she could stand without some sort of release.

He must have agreed, since he made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, shucking it with a shrug and dropping it to the floor in a sloppy-sounding splat.

Fat drops of water trickled down the smooth, bronze skin of his chest leaving wet trails in their wake, and disappearing into his shorts.

Ho-ly something.
Blood seemed to have escaped her brain and headed down to points south.

“You’re drooling,” he said.

She checked the reflex to swipe at her mouth. He was teasing her, she knew, but damn, it wouldn’t surprise her to discover she actually had been drooling.

“Cocky much?”

He glanced down at his shorts, then back up at her with a grin that made her mouth go dry.

“What do you think?”

She followed his gaze to find his shorts tented again. Okay, so maybe he had reason to be cocky. She swallowed past the anticipation in her throat and gave him an offhand shrug. “Yeah, but do you know how to use it?”

“I’ll let you decide that.”

A zing of excitement shot to her core which clenched in eagerness. While he held her gaze, he unbuttoned his shorts and let them drop, kicking them aside when they hit the floor.

Well...

She’d apparently lost the ability to rub two words together.

Now, a huge, wet, naked man stood in the middle of her room with the biggest, most needy erection she’d ever seen. The thing seemed to have a life of its own, standing up tall against his belly, twitching and bouncing like an eager puppy.

She pushed off the door and met him where he stood, wrapping her fingers around his cock and sliding her hand along the silky, wet length of it in a long, slow stroke. Her caress pulled a low, growling sound from somewhere deep in his chest.

“So show me,” she said.

Damian was happy to oblige. His body clicked over into instinct—a lot like when on a mission and he relied on training and muscle memory—except this was way more primitive. He grasped at his last spark of awareness and held tight, otherwise he’d go full caveman and shove her against the wall and pound into her until he saw stars.

“You’re overdressed,” he said, proud of the fact his voice came out normal and not choked.

“Mm-hmm,” she said, stroking him slower and tighter.

Damian’s inner caveman disapproved of his self-control, especially since Elena had given him permission. What was he waiting for?

Elena reached down with her other hand and gave his balls a stroke and a squeeze, and the caveman lost it.

Damian caught the hem of her dress and yanked it over her head in one swift jerk, drove her backward until her back slapped the door, then he planted his hungry mouth on hers.

He swallowed her needy whimper when she opened her mouth to him. She’d been nude under her dress—not a scrap of panties or even a bra to get past, just pure unobstructed skin warm and smooth against his chest and belly. He approved of her uninhibitedness, assuming that was even a word. He didn’t really care.