TooHottoTouch

Samantha
Cayto

Former military man Sean is winning
his battle with PTSD and ready for a new challenge. Zoë is a hot-blooded Greek
whose ultimate fantasy is sex with a younger man. She secretly wants one who
will dominate her in bed too. Never one to back down from a challenge, Sean
reports for duty. He wasn’t looking for an older woman, but Zoë breaks all of
his rules. She makes his body sizzle even as she salves his emotional wounds.
Their time together isn’t supposed to lead to forever. But once Sean gets a
taste of Zoë, he’s determined to convince her that retreat is not an option.

A
Romantica®
older woman/younger man (cougar) erotic romance
from Ellora’s
Cave

Zoë’s mother always said Greeks were particularly good at
splitting their concentration, and while half her brain focused on her phone
conversation with her supplier, the other half, the more primitive half,
pictured her hands running down the hard planes of the gorgeous body standing
in her doorway. It wasn’t difficult, the fantasy part. The young man stood with
legs braced apart and hands jammed inside the front pockets of his khaki pants.
There was nothing remotely suggestive about his clothing, yet his polo shirt
clung to sculpted abs and pecs in ways that left her with plenty of bad ideas.
Really bad ideas.

This guy was here for a job interview. She had scheduled the
meeting herself and had told him to come in when he knocked moments ago, but
she had pictured someone entirely different. She was hiring him for a temporary
job as a dishwasher as a favor for her long-time customer, Grace McKinnon.
According to Grace, the poor guy had been in a psychiatric ward a few months
back dealing with PTSD. He was a vet and a friend of Grace’s boyfriend and
needed help getting back on his feet. Zoë needed someone to help out while her
regular dishwasher, Diego, recovered from a broken arm. Problems solved.

Yeah, except she wasn’t sure what she had expected, maybe
some skinny kid with the shakes from nervous energy. And yes, that was an awful
stereotype. It was simply when Grace had mentioned Sean Conroy for the job,
Zoë’s first thought had been
Oh, that poor boy!
He had served his
country, kept her ass and everyone else’s safe and needed some help. Of course
she would hire him. It was the least she could do. She hadn’t in her wildest
dreams expected that her good citizen project would turn out to be the actual
guy from her wildest dreams.

This was him, the hot, young stud she dreamed of just about
every goddamn night. Square-jawed, tall and built yet not muscle-bound. He had
an intense and confident gaze. His reddish-blond hair was cut short, a buzz
growing out. She couldn’t quite make out his eye color and guessed green
because it would be the right color for him. Oh yes, he was the perfect man for
her to try out her younger man fantasy. Except maybe not. Lusting after an
employee, especially one who was trying to get his emotional shit back
together, had to violate some legal or moral code.

Zoë tore her gaze from temptation. “I’ll take ten boxes,”
she said into the phone, cutting her supplier off mid-pitch.

“Ten?” The guy could barely keep the glee from his voice.
She normally ordered only five.

Damnation. “You heard me.” Zoë hung up and stood. She
plastered the most motherly and least predatory smile she could on her face.
“Sean, right? Sorry to keep you waiting. Come in and have a seat.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” the man,
boy, boy, boy
, replied
then stepped inside her office and turned to shut her door.

“That’s okay, you can keep it open,” Zoë rushed to tell him.
The room wasn’t that big and the temperature had already started to climb with
the addition of his ripped body.

He nodded and sat down, the old wooden chair groaning a bit
under his weight. He frowned and glanced down at the legs before looking back
at her. “Thank you for seeing me, ma’am. From what Grace said, it sounds like
you and I would be a good fit.” He paused, winced. “I mean my taking the
temporary position before I start school would be a good fit.”

Okay, frank and to the point, traits Zoë admired. And with
just a hint of sexual innuendo that she was totally reading into his words.
Because really, why would he be interested in her when he must have lots of
women his own age dogging his heels? What was Grace’s problem anyway, not
warning her about the not-so-Greek god she was sending her way? Was the woman
trying to give Zoë a heart attack?

Zoë sat and leaned back in her chair, faking a nonchalance
she didn’t really feel. Her body was revved up, nipples and clit tingling in
very inappropriate ways given the circumstances. Her gaze wanted to linger over
his muscles, drift down to his lap to see how well he filled out those pants of
his. She made herself look into his eyes instead. There she saw a hint of
vulnerability behind the confidence and realized he must be a little nervous.
Grace had said Sean hadn’t worked in almost a year, since getting out of the
army. He was trying to get his life back on track and even a temporary job
would help him do that. The reminder of his situation helped Zoë get rid of the
more salacious thoughts.

She smiled. “I’ve known Grace for years. Being so close to
the hospital, this diner feeds a lot of medical staff. I mentioned to her the
other night how I needed a temporary replacement for one of my dishwashers. He
broke his arm three days ago and Grace said it would take about six weeks to
heal. I need someone to fill in for him until then. With this economy, I know
if I put an ad up on craigslist, I’d have dozens of applicants desperate for a
permanent job. I’m glad you’re looking for something temporary. It’s a good fit
for both of us.”

“It’s nice of you to keep the job open for this guy.” Sean
gave her a slight smile and the small movement transformed him from ruggedly
handsome to downright gorgeous.

Zoë swallowed hard and took a sip of her coffee before
answering. “This is a family diner and we treat everyone like family even when
they’re not. There was never any question about firing Diego. He’ll be here
most days doing what he can. He’s here now and can show you the ropes as soon
as we fill out the forms that make Uncle Sam and the Commonwealth happy. Grace
said you were in the army, so I’m sure you’re familiar with paperwork,” she
added, picking up the pile she had waiting on her desk.

“Yes ma’am, I am,” he replied.

He rubbed his hands along the tops of his thighs, drawing
her attention once more to the solidness of his body. It was a nervous gesture
though. She needed to remember his vulnerability and forget his fuckability.
Standing up, she bent across her desk and handed him the forms on a clipboard
with a pen.

He leaned forward and stretched a powerful arm to meet her
halfway. His gaze dipped down to the clipboard, but when she released it, he
didn’t pull it back right away. Instead he remained as he was for a few
seconds. It took her a moment to realize he wasn’t looking at what he held so
much as past it. That path led right to her chest and it was then she
remembered she wore a snug v-neck t-shirt. As well-endowed as nature had made
her, finding modest shirts that did not make her look dowdy too was tough.
Given her position, the girls had to be on some kind of display. Normally she
wouldn’t give it much thought while at work. This was not normally. She rocked
slowly back into her chair, resisting the urge to see how much of a show she
had put on.

Sean blinked, coughed and swallowed hard before he dragged
the clipboard to his lap. “Thanks.”

Excellent, way to go, Conroy. The first woman in forever
to make your body stand up and take notice and you end up staring at her boobs
like a geeky teenager. Women love it when they catch guys doing that.

It had been impossible to look away, however. The worn
cotton of her tee molded to her breasts and displayed every curve. Plus, when
she leaned over, silky plump skin had spilled out over the top. Any straight
man would have looked, although a sensible, experienced man would have done it
less obviously. He was out of practice, that was his problem. Disgusted with
himself, both nervous and grateful to have a job—however temporary—finally come
his way and, oh yeah, hard like the proverbial rock, Sean filled out the form.

“Grace told me you start mechanics classes in the fall.”

Sean stopped writing and looked up at Zoë Contos. She sat in
her chair watching him with a cheerful look. Her question was probably just
polite small talk, but he looked for hidden meaning. When not distracted by her
bodacious breasts—and man were they ever a distraction—he could see kindness in
her beautiful eyes. But did they hold pity too? Christ, he hated that. For as
long as he could remember, women had looked at him, a lot. He had seen
admiration, adoration, lust and sometimes anger peering out at him. He could
handle any of that easily enough, but pity? Jesus. He was done feeling sorry
for himself and wanted others to be done with it. He had seen the look too much
in women’s eyes—the doctors, nurses, relatives and his mother’s friends. It
said they saw him as some little boy lost and all they wanted to do was wrap
him in their arms and make it all better.

Shit! Except the thought of this woman holding him tight was
something entirely different. She was tiny, a little over five feet maybe, with
a trim body that only served to accentuate those surprisingly voluptuous
breasts. When she had stood up, he half expected her to topple over from having
so much of her small weight in front of her. She had a lovely, oval face with
porcelain skin. God, weren’t Greeks supposed to be swarthy? Her hair was dark,
as he would have expected, almost blue-black, yet her eyes were gray. The
combination was alluring, the entire woman was.

He wondered how much about him she knew. Had Grace told her
about his recent trip to LaLa Land? Did he really see pity in her eyes or was
he being overly sensitive, looking for something that wasn’t there? Hard to
say. He was off his game but ready to get back in. This temporary job was step one.
School came next. Dating had to figure into the mix at some point. He had been
celibate way too long and before that, he had been a man-whore, using alcohol
and mindless sex to chase the bad memories out of his head. He was better now
though. Therapy and better living through chemistry gave him a new perspective.
The idea of going out with a woman he might forge a lasting relationship with
appealed to him more now than at any other time in his life. Maybe working for
Zoë would kill two birds with one stone.

She was older than he, of course, maybe a good fifteen
years. Faint lines framed her eyes but didn’t detract from her beauty at all.
Had he really given Mark grief over dating Grace way back when he was a totally
fucked-up mess? What a douche he had been. Age and desirability had nothing to
do with each other. This woman sitting in front of him was hot, totally hot.
His neglected cock pressed against his fly, demanding to be let out to play. He
glanced down at his employer’s left hand and breathed an inner sigh of relief
to see no ring. Given the few dozen pictures scattered around the office of a
couple of kids at various stages in their lives, however, he figured she must
have been married at some point.

In a lame move to ferret out more information, he responded
to her statement as if it were a question. “Yeah, I’m looking forward to
starting class. I always enjoyed tinkering with engines and working on big rigs
was always my goal, Mrs. Contos.”

She smiled and the effect went right to his groin. “Well,
mastering our dishwashing machine probably won’t give you quite as much
satisfaction, but we’re glad to have you. Oh, and it’s Zoë. We don’t stand on
ceremony around here. Besides, I’m divorced and Contos is my maiden name, so
I’m not Mrs. Anybody anyway.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Except he absolutely wasn’t sorry
to hear it at all. Divorced beat widowed, for her sake if nothing else. He
could handle divorced if he kept his shit together, which so far he hadn’t with
his tit-staring and all. He gave her what he hoped was a sympathetic smile. “I
apologize if I made you uncomfortable calling you that.”

“It’s okay,” she replied. “You actually make me
uncomfortable for entirely different reasons.” Her eyes popped at her own words
and she stood abruptly. He followed suit and stood awkwardly as she came around
the desk.

“Now I’m sorry,” she said with a shake of her head. “That
was an inappropriate thing to say to an employee.”

Her cheeks were a little flushed as she stood a couple of
feet away, and yeah, she was a tiny little thing next to him. His hands could
easily circle her waist. He felt bigger and stronger than he had in months, the
eating right and weight training having paid off to restore his army-fit body.
It took a second for him to understand the meaning of what she said, or maybe
he wanted her to be saying it, that she found him attractive. It could be
wishful thinking on his part. And yet, yes, those were her succulent nipples
telegraphing her arousal. Holy fuck, he might actually have a chance with this
woman. This woman who was now his boss. The rules in the civilian world weren’t
that different from those in the military. Having an affair with your direct
report was frowned upon. Still, it was a temporary job. Maybe in a few weeks
they could go out.

In the meantime, if he lowered the clipboard he held, she’d
see exactly how much his cock cared about rules other than the one that said
insert Tab A into Slot B. So to save them both, he pretended he had lost some
brain cells during his hospital stay. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,
Mrs. Contos—I mean, Zoë.”

She squinted her eyes at him. “Right. Why don’t you take the
forms with you and return them at the end of your shift. We may as well have
Diego start your training before the lunch crowd hits.” She turned to leave the
room.

“Fair enough,” he said, relief coursing through his body.
She was available and not totally freaked out by what a total freak he had
been. He followed her out the door and try as he might, he couldn’t tear his
gaze from her petite ass encased in tight jeans swaying in front of him.

It was going to be a long six weeks.

* * * * *

Clouds of steam billowed about the small, hot dishwashing
room. Sean gripped the hanging hose used to rinse off the tableware. His gaze
shifted left to stare at Zoë’s ripe little body, lounging against the deep
stainless sink. Her bent back caused her breasts with their taut nipples to be
on full display, beckoning him. The t-shirt she wore tucked into her tight
jeans molded to her body, showcasing those voluptuous globes and barely rounded
stomach. Without thought, he tipped the hose nozzle in her direction and
pressed the lever. Water shot out, slapping her mid-chest.