TooHottoTouch (4 page)

When her pussy clamped fiercely down on his rod, he let go.
His entire being became that one thing, his cock finding its release inside
Zoë’s body. He poured everything he was into her and absorbed the energy of her
release. When he was empty and her body ceased to move, he eased them both down
to the floor. They lay in a tangled heap of limbs, panting as if they were dogs
in the noonday sun.

When he had enough breath, Sean angled both their heads so
he could plant a chaste kiss on her lips. “Would it be too weird if I said
‘thank you’?” he asked in a voice rough with emotion. It had been so long since
he had been with any woman and even longer since he had made what he would
consider love, not merely had sex.

She chuckled wearily. “Not if I can say it too.” She opened
her eyes and gave him a sleepy look. “It’s been a while for me.”

“And me,” he admitted, although he wondered if she knew that
already. Given how well she knew Grace, maybe his recent past had been revealed
before he got hired. Then he dismissed the notion. If Zoë knew he’d had a
mental breakdown, why would she trust him this way with her body so soon?

“Any chance we could give this another try in my bed and at
something slower than warp speed?”

Leaning his forehead against hers, he replied, “Seriously?
Do you think there’s any chance on God’s green Earth I would say no?”

The corners of her lips turned up. “I guess that was a
pretty dumb question, but here’s another one—do you have enough energy to carry
me to bed? I’m not sure my legs will work.”

His fatigue vanished with the question. Zoë’s bed and the
opportunity to worship her body at his leisure? In answer, he raised them both
to their feet, swept her once more into his arms and carried her away.

* * * * *

“Drop it! I said drop it, goddamn it!”

Zoë bolted upright and blinked sleep from her eyes. It took
a few seconds to orient herself and remember that there was a man in her bed.
She turned to see Sean’s head thrashing from side to side and his body jerking
while he yelled and cursed. She flipped over onto her knees and gauged the best
way to wake him from his nightmare.

“Sean? Sean?” she said in an increasingly louder tone and
tried to shake his shoulder. She ducked when his arm lashed out in her
direction. “Sean! It’s Zoë, wake up, you’re having a bad dream!”

He sat up straight and stared at her wild-eyed. His
breathing was labored and a sheen of sweat covered his forehead. Coughing a few
times, he ran a palm down his face. He blinked at her. “Zoë?” His brow creased
in a frown. “Was I yelling in my sleep?”

Zoë gave him a sympathetic smile. “You were having a
nightmare. It ah, seemed pretty intense.”

He dropped his gaze. He was silent while his fingers gripped
the sheets. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” She reached over to place her hand on top
of his and then her phone on the nightstand rang. “Damn,” she muttered and
scooted up the bed to take the call. She knew who it was without even looking
at the caller ID. “Hi,
yiayia
,” she answered in English. She wanted Sean
to understand her. “Everything’s fine. It was just a bad dream. ’Night.”

When she hung up, Sean grimaced. “I woke up your
grandmother. Shit, I’m sorry. I’ll get out of here as quietly as I can.”

“Wait, what?” She grabbed him by the arm before he could
climb out of bed. “It’s not a big deal. She’ll go back to sleep and we should
too.” She glanced at the clock. “We have three more hours before we have to get
up for work. It was only a dream, Sean, with some yelling and thrashing about.
But it’s over now.”

He jerked his head up. “Was I kicking and punching in my
sleep?” he demanded.

“Not exactly. There was a little bit of flailing, I guess
you could say.” She shrugged. “Fortunately I’m still pretty spry for my age.”

He looked stricken at her words. “Did I hurt you? Jesus God,
Zoë, did I hurt you?”

“No, of course not.” She tried to frame his face with her
hands but he turned away and flung his legs over the side of the bed.

“I must have scared you, huh?” His head hung down. The guilt
was thick in his tone.

“No, of course not. I’m not surprised you have nightmares.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized she may have revealed
too much of what she’d been told.

He looked at her over his shoulder. “Why, because you think
every grunt coming back from war is a basket case?”

She stiffened with indignation. “No, of course not!” With a
sigh of resignation, she confessed what she should have before their date. He
had a right to know how much she knew. “Grace told me what happened last year
and that you were hospitalized.”

Sean swore softly and turned his head away again. She
reached over and touched his shoulder. He shrugged her off and stood up. The
small gesture of rejection made her stomach tighten with worry. Damn it, had
she just blown the best night in more years than she cared to count?

“I’m sorry. I should have told you from the beginning.”

He turned his body back in her direction. It was the first
real chance for her to gaze at it fully naked. God, he was magnificent. Every
muscle stood out in stark relief. But as much as she enjoyed the sight, the
look on his face made her want to weep. He wore an expression of loss and hurt.
It made her heart ache.

“You knew I have PTSD and tried to kill myself when you
hired me, when you agreed to go out with me?” He shrugged. “Well, I threatened
to kill myself. I’m not sure I would have ever done it.” He fisted his hands by
his sides.

Sitting back on her heels, she tried to put the matter in
the right light. “Grace is a good friend and not your doctor. She felt she both
needed to tell me the truth and wasn’t bound by ethics to keep it a secret. She
wanted me to know before I agreed to hire you.”

Sean gave a mirthless laugh. “I guess when I didn’t come in
wielding a knife or sucking on my thumb, that clinched the job. And when I
didn’t try to put my head in your oven, that meant I was safe to date?”

She pounded a fist on the bed. “Oh, that’s not fair to
either of us! I hired you as a favor to Grace and I asked you out as a favor to
myself.” Crossing her arms, she stared past him. “Frankly, I should have just
jumped you in my office the way I wanted to and given the job to someone else.
This issue might have come up sooner and we’d have dealt with it at a more
rational hour.”

They were both quiet for a few seconds. “I’m sorry,” he
finally said. “I shouldn’t be mad at you for knowing what I should have told
you myself. I guess I didn’t expect to become involved with a woman so soon. I
didn’t think it through.” He sighed heavily and shrugged. “I should have
thought too about the possibility of having a nightmare before I accepted your
offer to stay over. They’ve been less frequent lately, so…” His voice trailed
off. “I have to go.”

“No.” She threw herself across the bed and clasped his thigh
with both hands, holding him firm. “Please, Sean, stay here and cuddle with me.
I bet we can still get some more sleep.” Her plea was just short of full-on
begging, yet she didn’t care. She couldn’t stand the idea of his leaving in
such a wretched state of mind. She liked the feel of his body next to hers too
much, as well, to give it up so soon.

His gaze fixed on the floor, he shook his head. “I don’t
think so. Whenever I have these nightmares, I’m too jazzed up to go back to
sleep.”

“Would it help to tell me about it?”

He shook his head again. “No. Thanks, though.” He stared
back at her, discomfort etched there for her to see. “I talk about it with my
therapist. It’s better than it was. In the past, I’d turn to a bottle to drink
myself back to sleep.” He gave her a crooked grin. “I don’t do that anymore, so
it means I’m up for the day.”

She kept her hold on him and gnawed at her lower lip. An
idea formed in her head, a naughty one. “You need to relax?” she asked in a coy
voice.

“Ah, yeah.” His voice sounded uncertain. Apparently his
thoughts weren’t going yet where hers were. She’d have to show him.

Wiggling closer, she let go of his leg and clasped his arm.
She pulled him to her. “I think I know a way to settle you that your doctor
might approve of.”

His resistance was minimal as she forced him back down onto
the bed. She sat between his legs and wiggled her eyebrows. His gaze narrowed
as he watched her slide her hands up his thighs. Her fingertips brushed his
ripped abdomen, stroking the ridges his muscles made. His breath hitched and
his cock swelled. She slid her hands over the rising flesh. He jerked and
hissed.

“Zoë,” he barked out a warning.

She glanced up at him while she squeezed his cock and balls
in a tender massage. “What? Have you ever tried this before?”

“You mean jerking off? Sometimes, although nightmares don’t
exactly turn me on.”

She shook her head. “No, I mean having someone ‘relax’ you.”

He laughed bitterly. “Shit, no. Any time I had a nightmare
around a woman, she always ran off or ran me off, glad to be rid of me and my
messy head.”

“Hmph. You were obviously dating the wrong women.” He was
fully erect and a beckoning treat. Bending over, she slipped the rod into her
mouth. She kept her eyes open to watch his reaction.

“No argument there,” he replied, right before his eyeballs
rolled back into his head.

He lay still beneath her, other than the occasional muttered
appreciation of her efforts. His body, however, remained tense, so she
ratcheted up her ministrations. Her tongue laved the underneath of his cock as
her fingers gently squeezed his balls. She worked his cock at the base with her
other hand and sucked hard with her lips wrapped tightly around the bulbous
head.

When his breath turned to pants and moans passed his lips,
she picked up speed. His body was no longer still, jerking up to meet her lips
as they slid down his cock. Fingers fisted in her hair and helped set a rhythm.
She took him in as deep as she could and swallowed. With an almost anguished
groan, he bucked hard into her mouth. Cum splashed the roof and coated the
tongue that trapped the salty liquid and kept it from sliding down her throat.
She squeezed with fingers and lips, urging the climax out of him. His thighs
clamped her body and trapped her against him until the last of the spasms
subsided.

When Sean’s body went limp, Zoë released him and sat up. His
eyes were still closed, but a faint smile touched his lips. She got up to go to
the bathroom to spit out his cum and brush her teeth. She made quick work of
it, hoping he wouldn’t be offended that she didn’t swallow. Back in the
bedroom, she found she needn’t have worried. Her plan had worked.

Sean was fast asleep.

Sean dropped the trash from the morning’s breakfast crowd
into the dumpster and took a moment to stretch. He should have been tired and
sore, given he’d slept little and in a strange bed. But that bed had been Zoë’s
and damn if her method to chase away his night terrors wasn’t the best one yet.
Who needed booze or meds when a sexy and sweet woman went down on you? Better
yet, he had woken with her soft body pressed against his. A quickie in the
shower had topped it all off. A man could come to love getting up before the
sun if every day started as this one had.

Of course he’d made her drop him off at his apartment so
that he could change for work. He hadn’t wanted people to see them come in
together either. He didn’t want her bothered by any gossip. She’d said it
didn’t bother her if others at work knew they were dating. Nevertheless, it
bothered him because she mattered. Their date had become a sleepover and he
wanted more, lots more, as in maybe relationship more. He knew she was still a
little squeamish about their age difference and the imbalance of power that
came from his working for her. The last kind of pressure they needed was
disapproval or razzing by the cooks or waitstaff.

On the other hand, working for her meant he got to look at
her all day long, and that was a definite bonus. Turning to go back in, he
heard raised voices coming from the back of the building. He changed course and
walked toward the sound. Diego was being pushed up against the wall by a bigger
man with slick dark hair and light-brown skin. The guy had a fistful of the
dishwasher’s shirt. A torrent of words in what Sean assumed was Portuguese
spewed out of the interloper’s mouth.

“Hey!” Sean shouted, picking up his pace.

Both Diego and his attacker turned to look at him. Diego’s
eyes showed both embarrassment and relief. The bigger man snarled in a heavy
accent, “Fuck off.”

“I don’t think so.” Sean stopped a few feet from them and
braced his legs. He let the other guy see not only that he was in for a fight,
but that Sean knew how to handle himself and was not afraid to mix it up. “Let
him go.” He kept his voice low and menacing.

There was a staring contest for a few seconds before the
other man backed down. With a dismissive shove, he released his grip on Diego
and threw up his hands as if disgusted. “His ass isn’t worth fighting over.” He
spat as he brushed past Sean.

Sean watched to make sure the shithead had really left
before he turned back to Diego. The younger man still leaned against the wall,
his eyes closed. “Are you okay?”

Diego pushed away from the wall and gave Sean one of his
boyish smiles. “I’m good, thanks.”

Because it seemed that was as much as he was going to get
out of his coworker about the incident, Sean did some quick math and asked the
obvious question. “Is he the ‘accident’ that broke your arm?”

Sean wasn’t sure Diego would answer him. After a few seconds
ticked by, the kid nodded. Tears leaked out of his eyes and he brushed at them
with his uninjured arm. “He used to be so nice. I don’t know what happened. He
started picking on every little thing I did and when I argued back, he would
shove me, then slap me, then this.” He lifted up the broken arm.

“Did you file a complaint with the police?”

Diego looked horrified. “Shit, no.”

“Why not?” Sean sighed. “Are you an illegal?”

Now Diego looked affronted. “I am perfectly legal. I’m a
naturalized citizen.”

“Sorry.”

The other man looked away. “Ernesto is illegal. If I call
the cops on him, he may be deported.”

“Good. After what he did to you, he deserves it.”

Diego took a step forward. “No! I can’t do that to him. I
love him, or I used to love him.”

“Love him? Man, he broke your arm. He’s an abusive piece of
shit.”

“I know. I know. I just can’t.” He stared at Sean with
pleading eyes. “Please don’t say anything to Zoë. I don’t want her to worry.”

Sean blew out a breath. “I don’t like it, but okay.” He
stabbed a finger at the other man. “You’re not going to see this guy again,
right?”

“Absolutely not. I’m done with him.”

“Good. And if he bothers you anymore, you let me know,
okay?”

Diego smiled. “Sure. Thanks, dude. You’re a good friend.”

“Right. Let’s get back to work before the boss notices we’re
gone.”

Diego fell into step beside Sean as they returned to the
side door. “So, how was your date last night with Zoë?”

Sean’s step faltered. “How did you know I went out with
her?”

The dishwasher shrugged. “Everyone knows. There are no
secrets in the diner. I ask again, how was it?”

Sean eyed the excitement in the other man’s face. “None of
your damn business.”

“You’re no fun.”

Sean opened the door and ushered his friend inside. “That’s
not what she said,” he muttered under his breath.

Even in the lull between breakfast and lunch, the place
hopped with people prepping for the next rush of diners. It was easy to spot
Zoë among the bustle of waitstaff and cooks. Something about the woman made her
stand out in a crowd, at least for him. The sight of her compact body and
pretty face framed by unkempt hair put his body on high alert. Blood raced
through his veins while his heart pounded. He was half-hard for her in seconds.
When she caught sight of him and winked as she hurried into the dining room,
his breath caught. Man, he wanted to scoop her up, carry her into her office
and get busy on her desk.

He grabbed a cold bottle of water and headed for the
dishwashing room instead. Running the coolness of the container across his
heated forehead, he reminded himself there was a time and place. If he played
his cards right, he might talk her into catching some dinner that night or the
next, and maybe more. Desire for her body was only part of it though. It still
amazed him that rather than being scared off by his nightmare, she had embraced
the problem and found an excellent solution. She had seen him at his worst.
Okay, not his very worst. He hadn’t
cried
, and a blessing it was too.
But every other woman had been either scared by his violent dreams or
turned-off simply by his obvious vulnerability in having them in the first
place.

Zoë hadn’t been afraid or disgusted and merciful God, she
hadn’t tried to coddle him and make it all better either. She had still seen
him as a desirable man. The moment when her warm mouth had slid over his cock
was a memory he would take to his grave. Even now it had the power to make him
throb and ache and forget his own name. He closed his eyes and leaned against
the sink. The hard metal pressed painfully against his hard-on. It did nothing
to ease his arousal and neither did the sharp pinch on his ass. He jerked more
in surprise than any real discomfort and popped open his eyes to see Zoë
leaning against the sink by his side.

She grinned at him. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist. Penny for
your thoughts.”

He grimaced. “I don’t dare describe them here. I’m
distracted enough as it is.”

Her gaze dropped. “Really? No one could tell.”

“Thank God for aprons. Trust me. My jeans feel two sizes too
small right now.”

“Flatterer. Too bad I can’t check for myself.” Even as she
said it, she slid her hand along the edge of the sink toward his overheated
body.

Sean stepped back and laughed. “Don’t you dare!” he chided
in a low voice.

She laughed too and took a step closer. “What, you think the
rest of the staff would be scandalized to see us lip-locked?”

He held up his hands to discourage her advance. “Maybe. I’d
be scandalized to be caught feeling up the boss, I can tell you.” He sobered
his face and lowered his voice. “I don’t want people gossiping about you in
your own place of business.”

Her expression softened. “You’re so sweet to worry about
me.”

Shrugging, he said, “I like you.” He paused and tried to
find the right words. “You matter.” He winced inwardly. He wasn’t going to win any
poetry contest with such an inadequate statement.

Zoë didn’t seem to care about his lack of elegance because
she closed the distance between them and planted a soft kiss on his lips. “That
is one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.”

He shoved his hands inside his pockets to keep from grabbing
her and diving into her mouth. “Really? ’Cause it sounded pretty lame to me.”

“You’re too hard on yourself,” she reprimanded with a frown.

“Maybe. Can I see you again?”

Now she sighed with exaggerated exasperation. “Of course you
can.”

“Are you free tonight?” He had always played it cool with
women before. This time was different. He wanted her to see how much she
mattered to him. Life was too uncertain to play games anymore.

Pursing her lips, she shook her head. “Sorry, I have plans
tonight. My cousin Cassie is getting married and a bunch of my female relatives
are getting together at
Yiayia
’s apartment to put together the
boubounieres
.
The wedding favors,” she clarified.

“You mean Jordan almonds?”

“And tulle and ribbon. Girl stuff.”

He smiled at the image of Zoë surrounded by other women
doing something so totally feminine. He’d love to be a fly on the wall for
about two seconds; then, like most guys, he’d go crazy with boredom. “Sounds
like fun,” he said because it was the right response.

“It will be.” She got a wistful look in her eye. “Even
though my own marriage crashed and burned, I’m still a sucker for weddings and
romance.” Before he could think of a suitable reply, she asked, “How about
tomorrow night? With the diner closed on Monday, we can really cut loose and
sleep in.”

He wasn’t sure how much looser they could cut given the
previous night’s experience, but the idea had him flushing from top to bottom
and his lungs seized. He coughed to start his breath up again. “Tomorrow’s
good.”

“Great.” Checking her watch, she added, “I guess we should
both get back to work. The lunch crowd will descend on us soon enough.” She
blew him a kiss as she left the room.

Sean turned to the sink, bent over, switched on the cold
water and sprayed the back of his neck.

* * * * *

Zoë refused a third glass of retsina when her aunt offered.
She was having a hard enough time tying the ribbon around the tulle-wrapped
almonds as it was. The move wasn’t lost on her younger cousin, Eleni.

“When did you become such a lightweight, Zoë?”

She bit her lip with concentration and didn’t bother to look
up as she answered. “Sometime around forty. Everything starts to go to hell in
a handbasket. Wait, it will happen to you too.”

Another younger cousin, Georgia, who was also Zoë’s
godchild, giggled. “When I’m your age, I hope I’m half as together,
Noona
.”

“Me too,” Eleni chimed in. “I sure wouldn’t mind having a
hottie like your boyfriend.” Her comment was directed toward Zoë and the other
conversations ceased with the remark.

Glancing up, Zoë saw all eyes were on her now. Her female
relatives had scented something juicy. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Eleni was like a dog with a bone. “That’s not what I hear.”
She made eye contact with the other women. “She went out on a date last night
with a guy who’s like my age.”

All gazes swung over to Zoë again. Sighing, she resigned
herself to the discussion. “One date does not make a boyfriend.”

Aunt Sophia tossed the party favor she had just finished into
the basket, thoughts of her daughter’s upcoming marriage apparently shoved
aside. “What is this? Who is this boy?”

“He’s not a boy.” Zoë placed her own finished favor down and
sat back. She was well and truly trapped into talking about Sean now. Eleni had
nothing on her mother when it came to pumping information out of others. “He’s
a man.” Her aunt stared her down with eyebrows raised. “Okay, to you and me,
he’s a boy.” And what a boy too. Thoughts of him were never far away. All day
she had worked hard to keep the memories of their night at bay. It was
hopeless, and the flirting in the dishwashing room hadn’t helped. Her body
itched and ached with need. She could feel her face flush as the other women
watched her. Grabbing her glass, she held it out to her aunt. “May as well hit
me again.”

“Where did you meet this boy?” her aunt Vroula asked.

Zoë sat back and took a gulp of her wine. “He’s a friend of
a friend. I needed a temporary dishwasher and he needed a temporary job.” She
shrugged. “We hit it off and I asked him out.”

Vroula topped off her own glass. “You’re sleeping with an
employee?”

Guilt stung. “I didn’t say I was sleeping with him.”

The other women merely stared her down once again. She
sighed loud enough for everyone to hear. “Okay, we had wild, passionate monkey
sex on my living room floor.” She winced. “Sorry,
Yiayia
.” The older
woman sat in her rocking chair, listening and grinning. “Satisfied now?” she
asked the room at large.

“No!” came the chorus of responses.

“We want details,” Cassie chimed in. When Zoë gave her a
horrified look, the bride shook her head. “Not about the sex.” She paused and
grinned at her relatives. “Well, yes, about the sex, but what about him? What’s
he like?”

A bunch of adjectives popped into her mind—gorgeous, sexy,
sweet, hung and powerful. Her clit throbbed with the memory of him pounding his
hot cock into her aching pussy. She remembered too how he was ready for more
not long after they fell into her bed. Her nipples hardened as she pictured his
mouth descending to latch on and suck with such devotion she had almost come
again. And she had come once more, her body bucking, her fingers clenched tight
onto the sheets when his tongue laved her clit.

She gulped more wine in a pointless effort to still her
arousal. “He’s a nice guy, Boston native, ex-army.”