TooHottoTouch (3 page)

“Okay.” Sean didn’t press the point but he didn’t look
convinced either. “What looks good, and please don’t say the chicken or the
pasta.”

“Here we go,” muttered Grace. She shot a peeved look at
Mark.

“Why not?” Zoë asked. “I happen to like chicken and pasta.”

Sean looked at her over his menu. “Because they’re the
cheapest things listed, and as this is my treat, I want you to have something
special.”

Zoë shared a look with Grace. Before the guys had arrived,
they had discussed how the bill would be paid. They were pretty sure the men
were going to grab it, so they had intended to keep the cost low. So much for
that plan. She tried a different tack. “I own a diner; food is never
particularly special. I mean, I can get most of this anytime.”

“How about a filet? You don’t serve that at your place.”

Rats, he had her there, and she did love a good cut of meat.
She shifted again. “Why don’t we split one?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, I have a big appetite. I want one
all to myself.”

“Give it up,” advised Grace with a chuckle. “I am.”

“Fine. Filet it is.” She felt uncomfortable spending all his
money, and as the person who paid him, she had a good idea of what he had in
his pocket. It mattered to him though, and if she pressed, she would make him
feel bad. Their date would suck and then what would have been the point?

Sitting back, she lifted her glass and contented herself
with looking at him. So handsome and desirable, he took her breath away. God,
he looked young despite his very grown-up clothes, or perhaps because of them.
He lowered his menu and looked back at her. Sexual tension rose up between
them. It tugged her body toward him. His knee bumped hers and jangled her
nerves. Mary, mother of God, this was harder than she had imagined. Being
around him all day when they were busy at work had kept desire at bay. Nothing
held it back now.

The server returned with the guys’ drinks. They ordered
their meal and began the ritual of small talk. Grace and Mark were so relaxed
with each other and had so many interesting stories to tell about their days
that it was easy to sit back and enjoy the evening. Halfway through the main
course, reality crashed the party in the form of Harry Niarchos.

“Zoë?” She turned to see the old family friend approach the
table. Harry had gone to school with Zoë and her ex and had ended up in the
“his” pile when they divvied up their friends during the divorce.

“Hi, Harry. How are you?”

“Can’t complain. It’s been what, ten years?”

Zoë nodded. “Just about.” Resigned to this encounter turning
into a more protracted event, she introduced Grace and Mark, but when she
gestured at Sean, Harry interrupted.

“Wait, don’t tell me this is little Nicky all grown up? I
don’t remember him having red hair, and I thought he took a summer job in
Chicago.”

Zoë froze, shocked into silence by the terrible and yet not
ridiculous mistake. Sean, however, didn’t seem to have that problem.

He half rose from his seat and stuck out his hand. “Sean
Conroy.” After a perfunctory shake, he sat back down and winked at Zoë.

For a few seconds, no one said anything. Harry cleared his
throat, the implication of what he saw sinking in. “Oh, ah, nice to meet you,”
he sputtered out. “Nice to meet all of you. Good to see you, Zoë. My best to
your family.”

“Thank you, Harry. Good to see you too. Bye,” she added to
his retreating back.

Zoë didn’t know where to look or what to say. The guys broke
the silence by bursting out in laughter. Sean stopped immediately when she shot
him an exasperated look. Mark did the same with a poke from Grace. Her date
sipped at his iced tea before clearing his throat.

“Sorry. No offense to your friend, but that guy needs to
have his eyes examined. No way I’m young enough to be your son. He was way off
base.”

Zoë gave him a weak smile in return. It was sweet of him to
say it, and yet if they stood any kind of chance together, he needed to be
clear on how old she was. “My son is twenty-one.”

“See,” he replied.

She leaned over the table. “My daughter is twenty-four.”

He didn’t so much as blink at her. “My point still stands.”

It was there in his eyes, the earnestness of his answer. She
knew he was only a few years older than her children, and yes, she had been
barely out of childhood herself when she had married and started her family.
Still, she was much older than he even if not quite old enough to be his
mother. What in the world was she doing out with him? Where did she think this
would lead?

“Zoë?”

“What?”

“You think too much,” he admonished mildly.

“I do?” Did she? Maybe so. Although the way he looked at
her, as if she were part of the dessert menu, it was hard to think of anything
at all.

He reached over to take her hand in his. He ran his thumb
across her knuckles and it may as well have been stroking her clit, given how
her body flushed with heated pleasure. “You do and you are,” he confirmed.
“We’re both old enough to know what we’re doing, so let’s forget about your
nearsighted friend and finish our meal.”

She sighed. “Okay.” Tugging her hand free, she picked up her
fork and the conversational ball. “So, Grace, how’s life in the ER these days?”

The sun hadn’t quite set by the time they left the restaurant.
It was a nice summer night, warm with a light breeze. Dinner had gone well,
Sean thought, if one ignored the awkward encounter with Zoë’s old friend.
Jesus, how the hell did the old fart mistake him for Zoë’s kid?

No, not old. Absofuckinglutely not old because the guy was
Zoë’s age and she was not old. She was mature, but luscious with it. He wished
he could hold on to her and cuddle and kiss her the way Mark was doing with
Grace right at that moment. He didn’t dare though. It was too soon. So far he
had managed to place his hand on the small of her back to guide her out of the
restaurant. Not that she had needed help finding the door. He did it to be
gentlemanly and frankly to cop a feel of sorts. While grabbing her ass would
have been more satisfying, his cock couldn’t be any harder from only this small
contact.

“Thanks for dinner.”

He glanced at Zoë and realized she was trying not to stare
at the public display of affection going on next to them. “You’re welcome,” he
replied. He let a few seconds lapse before making a bid to keep the evening
going. “You want to take a walk or something?” He shrugged as if his question
and her answer weren’t as important to him as they were. “It’s early still,
although I think those two are probably heading off to bed soon.” He winced
inside. Oh yeah, very smooth bringing sex into the conversation.

Zoë smiled. “I agree on both counts. I thought, however, we
could go to a taverna I know a couple of blocks from here. They have a great
band that plays on Friday nights and there’s dancing.” Her voice dropped off
and her eyes went wide. “Except taverna’s just a fancy word for bar and you
don’t drink. Wow, sorry, what a really stupid idea. A walk sounds wonderful.”

A lock of her thick, dark hair had escaped the elaborate updo
she wore. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching over and tucking it behind her
ear. “Bars have water, soda and fruit juice. I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

“No, really.”

“Zoë, yes. Please. I’d like to see the dancing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

She rewarded him with a bright smile. He would have
navigated a minefield for that smile, which was kind of what going to a bar
meant to a recovering alcoholic. The world was full of alcohol. He wasn’t going
to stay sober by hiding at home. Being with Zoë mattered to him, mattered more
than being high. Besides, her presence helped keep the demons at bay better
than anything he’d ever tried before.

They made their goodbyes to the other couple and headed off.
As crowded as the sidewalk was, they had to walk close to each other. Within
seconds, Zoë had her hand slipped around his arm. Their hips bumped and rubbed
as they walked. The simple contact shot pleasure throughout his overheated
body. He was both disappointed and relieved when she tugged him into a dark
building.

Simple and homey, the taverna looked like any other bar
except for the Greek band and the dancing. They sat at a table in a corner.
Several people, both workers and patrons, hailed her when they came in. He
realized this must be a favorite haunt of hers and she had brought him,
apparently unconcerned with what her friends would think. Understanding that
made him feel more relaxed.

He ordered a Coke and she ordered a glass of retsina wine,
an acquired taste she said, kind of like sucking on tree bark. She sipped it
slowly and watched people get up to dance. Delight shone on her face and her
body moved with the rhythm of the song. He watched too, and it impressed him
how well the people moving in a line kept together. The man leading the snake
of dancers was joined to the woman next to him by a white handkerchief they
both held. Zoë whooped and hollered with the other patrons when the man started
twisting, jumping, smacking the sole of his shoe, all while keeping the others
moving around and around the dance floor in a circle.

Some of the audience got up and showered the lead dancer
with dollar bills. Sean turned to Zoë. “What are they doing?”

“They’re showing their appreciation for his dancing. In a
taverna like this, the band gets to keep the money as a form of tip for their
skills too. Now, if this were a wedding, the bride and groom would keep it.”
She looked at him with a wide grin. “It can add up to a few thousand dollars
for the happy couple.”

“No kidding?” He watched as the lead man and woman switched
places. Now she tugged the line around and around. Her moves were less
athletic, more sensuous, as if she led him on a merry chase. “It looks as if
those two have danced together before,” he remarked.

“Oh yes. Some couples take this very seriously. It can be a
kind of mating dance.”

Sean shifted in his seat and tugged at his pants. His cock
and balls ached in earnest. He could picture Zoë up there, swinging her hips,
beckoning him. He leaned over and nudged her with his shoulder. “Can you dance
like that?”

She laughed. “Of course. Why, do you want me to go up?” When
he nodded, she said, “Okay, but don’t you dare shower me with dollar bills. It
would be embarrassing. I have no fancy moves to warrant it.”

She popped up and headed to the dance floor. The song seemed
to go on forever, or maybe it was a new one, but the dance stayed the same. She
found her way to the end of the line and took the right hand of the last
person, then folded her left arm behind her back. Without missing a beat, she
was kicking and hopping along with the rest of them. Watching her move, he knew
she had lied, she did have moves, great ones. Her body embraced the rhythm of
the song with perfection. She made many of the people with her look clumsy in
comparison. Her face lit up with obvious joy, her beautiful and bountiful
breasts bounced teasingly. He could have sat there and watched her all night.
But the song ended and with a cry of “
oopa
!” the dancers stopped and
left the floor.

She pranced back to their table and plopped herself down.
Her face was flushed, yet she grinned as she grabbed his Coke and took a big
swig. “So, what did you think? Not bad for an old lady.”

Half of her hair tumbled down. Reaching over, he liberated
the rest by pulling out whatever pins he could feel. Thick waves framed her
face. “I like it down,” he confessed. “You should wear it like that more
often.”

“It’s not practical at work.”

“We’re not at work now, and you’re not an old lady.” No
longer able to resist temptation, he leaned in to take her lips. He fell into
her warmth and passion as her mouth greeted his with equal fervor. She opened
up and sighed, welcoming him in. Her arms twined around his neck and her soft
breasts pressed against his chest when he tugged her closer. If he had ever
intended to take things slow, the plan vanished with the explosion of heat
their bodies shared.

The sounds around them dimmed as his senses were filled with
Zoë. Her scent, her touch, her very heartbeat invaded his body and consumed
him. He didn’t know where he was anymore and didn’t care. Blood roared through
him and pumped into his cock. The hard rod begged for release. It wanted to
plunge into her pussy the way his tongue did her mouth. Pressure on his chest
forced him back, parted his lips from hers. He groaned in protest and popped open
his eyes.

Zoë didn’t look at him. She stood up abruptly and reached
into her purse. A twenty dollar bill landed on the table before she slung the
bag over her shoulder. Sean stood too, cursing himself for coming on too
strong. He had spooked her, maybe embarrassed her to death here where people
knew her. It was one thing to bring a younger guy in, another to have him grope
her in public. Before he could stammer out an apology, however, she grabbed his
hand and gave him a fierce look.

“My car’s parked close by. Any objections to my driving us
to my house so we can continue this there, in my bed?” She emphasized the last
bit as if he would have any trouble understanding her meaning.

“No ma’am, no objections.” A lame reply? Maybe, but his
brain had been deprived of its blood supply. Before he could muster a more
memorable response, she pulled him out of the bar.

* * * * *

Zoë pulled into the driveway of a two-family home located in
Watertown, a town west of Boston known for its Greek community. The drive had
been a silent one, although the sexual tension was thick. Even not touching
her, Sean felt the tug deep within him. He had been afraid to touch any part of
her for fear he’d lose control and make her lose control. A car accident would
not be a good way to end the evening. The waiting ratcheted up his desire. He
practically leapt out of the car when it came to a stop and Zoë did the same.
Unable to resist, he corralled her around the waist and swung her into his
embrace. His mouth once more devoured hers.

She held on tight and returned the passion. Her curves
molded to his body, pressed into his cock. Her hips shimmied against his aching
package as she walked them both sideways to her door. His hands fisted in her
hair and held her lips to his even while she fit the key into the lock. With
one hand she let them inside her home. Her other hand grabbed his ass and
squeezed.

They stumbled into the entryway, panting, moaning, clawing.
Sean was vaguely aware of Zoë tossing her purse and keys on a table. The front
door closed with a resounding thud. He opened his eyes only enough to see the
stairs she tugged him toward. Not wanting to let her go even to navigate up the
steep steps, he released her hair and swept her body up into his arms. She
rewarded his efforts with a feminine mewl of delight. Before he had taken more
than two steps, however, the thin voice of a woman called out from the first
floor. The words were unintelligible.

Zoë broke the kiss. Her head came up and she responded with
equally unfamiliar words. He realized it must be Greek. “Who are you talking
to?” he asked in a hushed tone.

“My
yiayia
, grandmother,” she explained. “This is a
duplex. She lives in the downstairs apartment.”

Grandmother? His mind reeled at the notion. They had been
groping each other only moments before, and even now they were both panting
with need. What was the chance her grandmother had heard them or would come out
to see them? The woman must be at least in her eighties. He didn’t want to give
her a heart attack. As if reading his mind, Zoë giggled and nipped his lower
lip with her teeth.

“Don’t worry.
Yiayia
has been nagging me for years to
go out and have fun. She’s not shocked about your being here, either. Believe
me, she’s quite liberal minded.”

“Does she know I’m here?”

“Of course. I just told her. Sorry about the Greek; it’s
what she’s most comfortable with.” Cupping the back of his head, she drew their
faces closer. “Now are you going to carry me upstairs, Rhett, or what?”

With a growl, he fastened his lips on hers and invaded her
mouth with his hungry tongue. He raced them up the steps, desire driving his
power. He let Zoë turn the doorknob to her apartment, but he kicked it shut
again with his own foot. Lowering her gently to the floor, he intended to
follow her to her bedroom. She had other ideas. As soon as her feet touched the
ground, she clasped his waist and shoved him against the door. His back hit the
wood with enough force to push his breath out. Stunned, he stood still while
she wrenched open his shirt.

“I want you right now,” she ground out and ran her tongue up
one of his nipples. “I can’t wait.” Her teeth sank into the tender flesh. He
felt the shock of it right through his already throbbing cock.

What little control he had left snapped. He grabbed the
straps of her dress and bra in both fists and yanked them far enough down her
arms to free her beautiful breasts. He twined his fingers in her hair and
tugged her head back so that he could lick and nip the side of her neck. The
other hand cupped a breast, his thumb massaging the taut nipple.

She moaned in protest and invitation. With her arms pinned
by her straps, she could no longer torment his chest. Instead, she slithered
her fingers between their bodies and unfastened his pants. She swore in
frustration when the zipper proved difficult, and cried out as his lips
replaced his thumb. He laved her nipple with tight circles then sucked it into
his mouth and feasted with hard tugs of his lips.

Her fingers clasped his groin in a punishing grip. She
squeezed his trapped cock and balls, making him crazed. He needed to be inside
her. Spinning her around, he switched their places. He wedged his leg between
hers both to hold her in place and to knead her clit. With her eyes closed
tight, she tossed her head back and forth. Her body writhed and she blindly
reached for his pants once more. He was way ahead of her. He yanked them down,
freeing his cock, grabbing the condom he had put in his pocket earlier just in
case. Her fingers brushed the hard flesh. The brief touch sent a pulse through
his dick. He pulled away, afraid he’d come if he let her take a good hold of
him.

She snarled at the loss of contact but she didn’t have long
to wait. He slid his hands up her silky thighs and tore the panties off her
body. Lust blurred his thoughts and his vision, but he managed to slide on the
condom before he hoisted her legs around his waist and thrust into her. She
cried out as his body slammed against hers. Her fingers clawed his back while
her cunt tightened around his cock. Her thighs squeezed like a vise and her
heels banged his ass as she came.

He thrust again and again as hard as he could, as hard as
she let him. The door shook with the force of their coupling. Tension built
within him, his body burning with the need for release. He held back only
because he sensed the body that gripped him wanted more. Finding her mouth, he
invaded it with his tongue and thrust with the rhythm of his cock. He angled
his hips to coax another climax out of her clit. A staccato of moans echoed
inside his mouth. Her heels beat faster against his ass, spurring him on.