Catching Eagle's Eye
Catching Eagle’s Eye
by
Samantha Cayto
Book Three
SEALs Going Hot
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Catching Eagle’s Eye
COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Samantha Cayto
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by
Diana Carlile
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com
Publishing History
First Scarlet Rose Edition, 2014
Digital ISBN
978-1-62830-415-2
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To all of the parents who
accept their child as they truly are.
PRAISE FOR AUTHOR
Samantha Cayto
AND HER BOOKS
JONESIN’ FOR ACTION
“The book is hot and sensitive and kept my interest from the first page.”
~Completed Review, Long and Short Reviews
“The romance was all kinds of hot! After they got settled a little the sex was real sizzling, and this ex-SEAL sure likes to do a little spanking.”
~Niina C, Niinas-reading-and-reviewing.blogspot
Prologue
“What the hell are you looking at?”
Dane started violently at his father’s angry question. Oh, no, he’d done it again. He had lost track of where he was. He had let himself become distracted by the pretty pictures in his mother’s clothing catalogue. It was lying right there on the living room table, impossible to miss. Impossible to resist. He had only meant to sneak a peek at all those nice men with their shirts off, with their pants off. He wasn’t going to touch them even though his fingers wanted to trace along those hard lines of muscles. They looked just like their neighbor, Mr. Bennett, and he didn’t look at him any more when he mowed his lawn. Dad had yelled at him for doing that and belted his backside good. These were just pictures. Why was it so bad to look at them?
Why was he so stupid? Why was he so wicked?
Dad grabbed his arm and shook him hard enough to snap his teeth together. “Answer me!”
Another shake forced an answer past his lips. Fear made him lie. “I was looking for pictures of ladies in their underwear, sir.”
His father bent low, putting his face inches from Dane’s. He cringed back at the look of fury and disgust in the older man’s face. “Are you lying to me, boy? Those are pictures of half-naked men. Only queers look at other men. What have I told you about that?”
His breath hitched as he tried not to cry. Only babies cried, and he was twelve now. Dad said men don’t cry, and he needed to be a man, not a baby anymore. If he let the tears fall, the punishment would be worse.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out in a low voice. It was all he could manage and he knew it wouldn’t be enough to keep his father from beating the “sissy” out of him. That’s what his father called it when he slid his belt off his pants like he was doing now and slapped it against Dane’s naked backside.
He would not cry; he would not cry! He’d take his licks like a man and never do this terrible thing again. But even as he said it, he knew he’d break his promise to himself. He couldn’t help it. Something was wrong inside him.
The other boys kept talking about girls and breasts and stuff he didn’t really understand. None of them talked about how nice it was to stare at the older boys with their tall bodies and strong muscles. Why couldn’t he be like the others and stop doing things to make his dad mad? Not even the awful pain of the belt made him stop, not for long anyway.
“Looks like you’re a little slow, boy. Your teachers think you’re smart, but I know different. A smart boy wouldn’t keep doing things that men don’t do. So I’m going to give you another lesson with my belt, and by God, I’ll keep doing it until you stop acting queer. Now, pull down your pants and bend over the chair.”
Before he could do as his father commanded, a voice called out from behind him. “No, Cal, that’s enough!” He turned to see his mother coming toward him. She was drying her hands on her apron, and her face told him she was mad, too. Mom never got mad. “You are not going to take a belt to him again.”
“Stay out of this, Mary. You don’t understand.”
“Yes, I do.” Her gaze flicked down at Dane. “I know he’s curious in ways you don’t like, and I don’t like them, either. But beating him is not the answer.”
“Then what the hell is? You want your son growing up queer?” He snapped the folded belt between his hands. The sound shot through Dane like a bullet.
“Of course not,” she answered and there was a waver to her voice. Mom never argued with Dad. “We’ll get him help.”
“No.” His father took a step forward. “No fancy shrinks that cost a fortune. I’ll handle this.”
“Cal, please.”
“I told you to stay out of this, Mary. I’m the head of this household, and by God, I will be obeyed by everyone. Go back into the kitchen.”
He saw it then, in his father eyes. If his mother didn’t back down, his father was going to hurt her, too. Dane had never seen him do such a thing, but it was as clear as day that belt would land on more than his body if his mother didn’t do as she was told. And when he looked at her, he saw the truth there as well. She wasn’t going to go away. She wasn’t going to leave him to the whipping he deserved. This was all his fault. His dad was going to hurt his mom because he couldn’t control his dumb, sissy urges.
“No!” he cried as he launched himself toward his mother. She staggered backward, his body collided so hard with hers. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he looked back at his father with pleading eyes. “Please, Dad, no. Don’t hurt her. It’s me, just me, being bad. I’m weak. I’m being a sissy just like you said. But I won’t do it anymore. I promise. Never again. I don’t want to be a queer. I won’t be one. I’ll be a man, sir, I promise.”
He drew a ragged breath, forced down his fear. “I’ll be a man.”
Chapter One
Dane stopped a couple of feet inside the therapy room and looked around, his right hand shoved into the pocket of his shorts and jangling his car keys. It was a large space with one wall of floor-to-ceiling windows creating a bright, cheery environment. Machines of various sorts were sprinkled around. A handful of wounded warriors were being put through their paces by what he assumed were physical therapists. Other than the clanging of weights and the occasional grunt, the most prevalent sound was soft voices murmuring encouragement and praise. He took everything in a single glance. He wasn’t known as Eagle Eye in the Teams for nothing.
Christ, he so didn’t need this right now. His boys were back in the thick of things, and here he stood waiting for some do-gooder to make his ouchy-boo-boo go away. He didn’t need this kind of help. His leg was fine, mostly. Sure, he had a lingering limp when he allowed the pain to get to him. It was going to take time to strengthen the muscle and to brow-beat his limb back into submission. But he could accomplish that on his own. He wasn’t like these other guys who were more seriously banged up.
A two-bit rebel soldier on a two-bit island nation had managed to make a lucky shot. The bullet hitting his leg was more like a gigantic mosquito bite than anything else. Given that he was one of the most successful snipers in the entire military, it was the embarrassment of being taken out by a rank amateur that caused him the real pain. A few days in the hospital and two weeks sitting on his ass at home and all was good, or at least good enough. He couldn’t believe he’d been ordered to report for physical therapy here at Walter Reed. He was a SEAL, damn it all. He didn’t need coddling.
There was no point in whining about the situation, however. That was also a pussy move, and he didn’t play like that. He’d man up like he always did, follow orders, and get this thing over and done. Scanning the room once more, he looked for someone to check in with. He wasn’t even sure who he was supposed to meet. He caught sight of some big guy sitting down on the floor with what was left of his legs straight out in front of him. The amputee wiped his hands across his eyes, probably clearing tears, the poor bastard. Dane tried not to stare. It was disrespectful, and it certainly made him feel stupid. By comparison, he had nothing to complain about, jackass that he was.
As he slid his gaze away, he caught sight of the man kneeling down on one knee in front of the patient and speaking to him in a tone too soft to hear. He saw a compact, muscular frame with copper-colored hair high and tight on top of a head he could only see in profile. His body responded instantly, forcing him to focus on the face. What he could see made him feel as if he were still out in the warm Maryland sun. A flush crept up Dane’s cheeks as he stared at the angular face with a straight nose and a square jaw. The sight was compelling, and even though he was always careful not to pay too much attention to other men when on duty, he couldn’t help himself.
The man finished what he was saying to the patient and placed a hand on the guy’s shoulder in an obvious gesture of comfort. As if sensing the perusal, he turned in Dane’s direction and looked him right in the eye. Dane felt that gaze square in his gut. Intense and boyishly handsome, the guy pinned Dane to the spot and robbed him of his next breath. It was a damn good thing he still had his hand in his pocket because it allowed him to push the fabric out a little to hide his thickening cock. Then the other man smiled as he stood and Dane had to stifle the little growl of desire bubbling to come out.
“Lieutenant Sawyer?” the man asked as he ambled over to where Dane stood staring stupidly back.
“Ah, yeah, that’s me,” he finally replied and shook the hand offered to him. Except he shoved his right back into his pocket because, shit, he was fully erect now.
Green eyes peeked out from long lashes. “I’m Ensign Chadwick. I’m going to be your therapist for the next little while.” There was a pause in which Dane could have sworn he was being appraised by the other man and not in the strictly medical sense. “How’s the leg?”
“It’s fine.” The response was automatic if a stretch of the truth.
Chadwick gave him a wry grin as if to say “yeah, right” without being insubordinate. “Mind if I have a look?”
Dane shrugged. “Sure.”
Chadwick gestured toward a chair by the side of the wall, and Dane took the cue. As he walked the few steps to the seat, his leg bitched at his steady gait. Damned if he was going to show weakness; he never did. Of course, that was just stupid thinking on his part given that the man he was trying to impress had access to his medical file and knew exactly what his condition was. Still, pride and all that.
He sat as the ensign bent down on one knee. The position was so like that of a submissive waiting for his master’s orders that Dane’s arousal kicked into overdrive. Oh, Christ, that was all he needed—visions of taking command of the earnest ensign and bending the sailor to his will. Yeah, those were appropriate thoughts to have on duty.
The bright overhead lights shone on the bent head before him. He could see slivers of blond threaded among the red. Shame the hair had to be kept so short. It would be beautiful in longer strands. He would be able to weave his fingers through them, grip and tighten his grasp until the guy moaned with pain. He’d use the grip to urge that pretty face forward to the space between his legs, coax those plump lips open to wrap around his cock. He could picture fucking that face in long strong strokes, his hard flesh swallowed down tight, wet heat.
Okay, he needed to shut down this whole train of thought before he came in his pants. Maybe he’d suffered a concussion and no one noticed. He needed to get right in the head the way he always did. He hadn’t given his fantasies such free rein since, well, since he’d stopped being a punk kid who couldn’t control his urges. It had been almost twenty years since he’d learned to hide his fascination with the male body. What the fuck was the matter with him today?
Chadwick glanced up at him, and God, the man’s eyes were intense in their compassion, which gave the illusion of arousal in Dane’s overactive imagination. “I’m going to manipulate your leg now if that’s okay with you, sir.” As he asked the question, his hands hovered above Dane’s ankle.