TooHottoTouch (6 page)

Their cries mingled, trapped by the kiss. As her cunt
squeezed around his cock, his cum pulsed out in desperate release.

* * * * *

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Zoë stopped and swung around to face Sean. He had asked her
this same question a few times since their mind-blowing encounter on her, well,
counter. Thank God no health inspector had done a snap inspection. She was
pretty sure having freaking hot sex in the kitchen was a violation of some
ordinance. She was still a little shaky from the experience, it had been that
great. The mild bondage they had acted out was no small part of it. She had
always harbored a secret interest in being dominated. She hadn’t dared ask it
of her former husband and if Sean hadn’t run with the impulse, she wasn’t sure
she would have ever asked it of him either.

They were holding hands, walking in the park near her home.
It was such a beautiful night, she couldn’t resist taking in some air. She used
the connection to tug him toward her. Rising on her tiptoes, she planted a firm
kiss on his lips. She smiled at him sweetly.

“If you ask me that again, I’m going to scream.”

He huffed out a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Sorry. I’ve never
really done that before. You know, the tying up and dominating part. The last
thing I want to do is hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” she assured them as they continued walking.
“You blew my mind, rocked my world or whatever you kids call fantastic sex
these days.”

Pulling her up short, he spun her into his arms and lifted
her up for a longer, deeper kiss than she had given him. When he finally
released her, he said, “Now I’m the one who’s going to scream if you don’t stop
talking about our age difference. You blow my mind and rock my world.”

“Really?”

“Really. Let’s go back to your place so I can work on
convincing you of it,” he added with a feral grin.

* * * * *

Sean fought his way out of the dream, past the sound of his
weapon firing and the screams, past the stench of blood and human waste. He
struggled for breath and the strength to force his eyes open. His mind latched
on to the one sound of sanity and hope that pushed its way past the nightmare
of memory tormenting him.

“Sean!”

His name. He recognized it and the sweet tone of voice that
called. He heard it over all of the wretched noise reverberating around his
head. Focusing on it, he followed it up and out of the morass in which he was
trapped. He reared up in bed, heaving great gulps of air into his lungs. His
whole body trembled in the aftershocks of the nightmare, while dual visions
blurred his sight—an earthen floor covered in blood and the muted tones of a
woman’s pretty bedroom.

He fought for control, clenching the soft sheets his body
was tangled in. With deep breaths, he willed his body to go still and cleared
his mind of all except the soothing sound of Zoë’s voice and the safety of her
home.

“Sean?”

He swallowed hard and looked at her. She sat on her heels at
the bottom of the bed, her eyes wide with concern. A sudden fear clutched his
heart. “Did I hurt you?” he barked out, afraid of the answer.

“No, of course not.”

He heaved a sigh of relief and closed his eyes briefly.
“Thank God.” He opened them up again and scrutinized her, not sure if she told
the truth. She looked unharmed and she didn’t seem to be afraid of him. That
was good, although she should be. What was the matter with him, staying the
night like this? He knew better. “I should go.” Before he could yank the sheets
back, she grabbed his ankle.

“Don’t you dare leave.” The look she gave him was fierce.

He huffed out a breath in frustration. “Zoë, sweetheart,
please don’t make this harder. I shouldn’t be here. I’m not fit company right
now and I don’t want to hurt you accidentally.”

She scooted closer to him. “I’m not worried about that.”

“I am,” he replied firmly. He really was. The last thing he
wanted was to clock her while having one of his nightmares.

Throwing her head back, she groaned. Then she fixed him with
a determined stare. “Tell me about the dream. It might help.”

Christ. He shook his head. “No. No way. It’s ugly and it’s
over and it’s enough for those images to be in my head. I’m not putting them in
yours.”

“I’m not that delicate. I can handle ugly. Please, Sean, let
me share this burden with you. I know it’s not much but I want to help.”

It was such a sweet offer, it almost made him cry. In fact,
to his utter horror, tears welled up and he had to blink them back. Great, just
what he needed to add to the scene. Zoë could now see him as a complete basket
case. And there was more to telling her about his dream than simply putting
ugliness inside her head. Maybe if he were completely honest with her, she’d
let it go, let him go for the rest of the night.

“I don’t want you to know what I’ve done,” he confessed. “I
can’t bear the idea of your looking at me and seeing me for what I am.”

“What exactly do you think you are?”

He took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out. “A
killer.”

“Bullshit!” The vehemence of her swear startled him. “You
are not a killer.”

“Yes, I am. Zoë, I’ve killed a lot of people.”

“As a soldier. That doesn’t make you a killer.”

“Maybe it doesn’t make me a murderer, but I am a killer,” he
insisted, not sure why he was determined to push her away with horrible truths.

She scoffed. “Don’t argue semantics with me, Professor
Poindexter.” When he took a breath to continue, she overrode him. “Let me tell
you a story about soldiers who were killers.” She looked away, shifting so that
she sat cross-legged next to him.

“
Yiayia
was a young woman living in Greece during the
Nazi occupation. One day the resistance killed a German officer. The Nazis had
a swift reprisal policy, so they grabbed the first adult male to step off a
local bus. They pulled him aside and shot him dead right on the street in
public retaliation intended to terrorize and turn the locals against the
resistance. That man, who at nineteen was really still a boy, was
Yiayia
’s
brother George.”

Placing her hand on his knee, Zoë leaned toward him and
peered into his eyes. “Those soldiers were killers, Sean. Did you ever
summarily execute someone?”

“Jesus, no, of course not.”

She nodded and leaned back. “Of course not.”

“But,” he said, although he wasn’t sure how he was going to
finish his thought. She didn’t give him a chance.

“No buts. I don’t want to hear any more talk of what a bad
man you are. I know you’re a good man. I wish you’d share with me, but if
you’re not ready to do that, then why don’t I help you get back to sleep.” Her
gaze strayed down to his lap and the erection adrenaline had given him. She
licked her lips.

The sight increased the flow of blood to his cock. It pulsed
in enthusiastic agreement with her unspoken plan. It didn’t want to leave and
honestly, neither did he. He smiled—what else could he do—and shook his head.
“Thanks, but I would really appreciate it if I could make love to you instead.”
So saying, he pulled her to him, yanked off her t-shirt and tumbled her onto
her back.

He lay down beside her and took her mouth in a deep kiss.
Her body melted almost instantly in his embrace. He took his time exploring her
with his tongue and hands. With long caresses of her breasts and belly, he
brought her passion up. When her body writhed beneath his touch, he stoked her
higher by rubbing her clit with the palm of his hand while plunging his thumb
into her wet pussy. And when she shuddered in climax, he slipped his cock
inside her welcoming body and thrust them both into relief.

No more nightmares plagued him that night.

Sean felt the pricking sense of being watched that had
developed from endless days of patrolling a war zone. He spun around and found
a middle-aged man standing in the doorway of the dishwashing room. Sharply
dressed and groomed, the guy looked out of place in the diner itself, let alone
a steamy room piled with dirty dishes. He held an empty plate with cutlery on
it and sauntered in to deftly add them to a load of dishes Sean was readying
for cleaning.

Nonplussed, Sean turned off the water. “Um, thank you, sir,
but we don’t actually expect customers to bus their own tables here.”

The older man laughed, displaying a perfect row of gleaming
white teeth. They were a startling contrast to his olive skin and dark hair.
The guy was too slick by half. “I’m not a customer; I’m family. Peter
Polanarkis.” He offered his hand. “I’m Zoë’s ex,” he added with a grin.

Warning bells sounded in Sean’s head as the import of the
pronouncement sank in. Drying his hand on a towel, he clasped the other guy’s
for a brief shake. He registered soft skin but with firmness behind it. It was
hard to reconcile the down-to-earth Zoë with this man. He practically screamed
fitness centers, hair salons and manscaping. “Sean Conroy,” he replied
awkwardly.

Polanarkis laughed again. “Yeah, I know. I had lunch here
specifically to get a look at you.” When Sean raised his eyebrows in question,
the guy continued, “I kept hearing about Zoë’s boy toy so I couldn’t resist.”

Wonderful. Awkward didn’t even begin to describe the bizarre
encounter. It made Sean uncomfortable to know people were talking about him and
Zoë. Not that it mattered for his sake, but he worried about gossip making her
feel bad. She didn’t deserve scorn in her community for dating him. Maybe he
would ask her about it later. In the meantime, he had zero interest in
entertaining her ex. “Okay, you’ve had your look. Now if you’ll excuse me, I
have work to do.” He turned back to the sink and flipped on the water.

Instead of leaving, Zorba the Creep leaned against the
counter and folded his arms. “It’ll never work, the two of you.”

Sean wanted to respond by pointing out it had worked just
fine for the last few weeks. He and Zoë were up to spending at least three
nights a week together, sliding into bed for mind-blowing sex even when they
were too tired to go out. It was certainly working better than any relationship
he’d ever had. Being with Zoë was easy and fun. He felt relaxed and happy. The
nightmares were coming farther apart and whenever he woke up, shaking and
sweating with visions of his past clutching him by the throat, she was there to
sooth him back to sleep. As far as he was concerned, things were working damn
near perfectly. Of course he couldn’t voice all of this to her ex. Still, the
guy stood there waiting for a response.

With an inner sigh, Sean shut the water off again and faced
his unwanted guest. “Because I’m too young for her,” he said with a roll of his
eyes.

Polanarkis shrugged. “Nah, that’s not the problem. Frankly I
tip my hat to her. Bagging a younger guy is no mean feat. And as an added
bonus, it may give the kids something to nag her about instead of me.”

Sean ground his teeth in an effort not to slug the smug look
off the man’s face. He didn’t like the way Zoë’s ex talked about her but Sean
knew she wouldn’t like his hitting him either.

“No, the real problem is you’re not Greek enough for her.”

“I’m not Greek at all,” Sean retorted, not sure what the
point of the observation was.

“Exactly. See, being Greek is major for Zoë. She lives and
works it 24/7.” He spread his arms out. “Just look at this place. How Greek can
you get, running a diner with everything from avgolemono soup to baklava?” He
pushed away from the counter and paced. “Even when we could afford it, she
wouldn’t move out of her grandmother’s house.”

“
Yiayia
,” Sean corrected automatically.

“Again, my point exactly,” Polanarkis stopped and pointed at
him meaningfully. “She sent the kids to Greek school and made them speak Greek
at home. Fish on Wednesdays and Fridays, lamb on Sunday. Endless family events
and you’ll never see so many black dresses outside of a funeral.” The man
stopped and shook his head. “I’m full-blooded, second-generation Greek-American
and I wasn’t Greek enough for her. Sorry, kid, but you don’t stand a chance.”

Before Sean could even formulate a reply, they both jumped
at a harsh “Peter” uttered by the doorway. He turned to see the object of their
discussion standing there with hands on hips, fire flashing from her eyes. He
had never seen an angry Zoë and was grateful her ire wasn’t directed at him.
Her gaze pinned her ex to his spot. Some of the slick confidence fell away from
Peter’s face.

“Hey, babe, I was just meeting your ah, new dishwasher.”

There was a pause before Zoë let loose a torrent of Greek
that made Peter blanch. Not knowing more than a few words related to food and
family relationships, Sean stood transfixed. Although he had no idea what she
was saying, he had a good feeling that his lovely older girlfriend was laying
her ex out in a brand of Greek that wasn’t heard in polite circles.

All Peter could manage was to stand there and take it. She paused
and he took a breath to respond, but was overridden when she started up again.
It wasn’t just her mouth that moved at the speed of light. Her hands waved and
jerked and sliced through the air. This was what Hera must have looked like
when she found out Zeus had fucked another human woman. If Zoë had been aiming
all of that at Sean, he would have pissed his pants.

Finally the storm passed. Polanarkis mumbled a few words in
response, threw Sean a meek smile and raced out of the room. Quiet descended, the
only sound the faint murmur of people out in the kitchen and the clinking of
pots and pans. Zoë’s chest heaved with what he assumed was residual anger. He
didn’t dare speak to her until she looked at him and gave him a reassuring
smile. A breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding pushed past his lips.

“Are you all right?” he asked tentatively lest he reignite
her anger and send it hurling toward him.

Her smile widened. “I’m fine.” He raised his eyebrows
skeptically. “Really.” Shrugging, she added, “What can I say? I’m Greek. I tend
to be a hot reactor and I don’t like my ex sniffing around my business,
sticking his nose in
my
business.”

Judging it safe to do so, Sean sauntered up and clasped her
shoulders in his hands. He grinned down at her. “I know you’re Greek. That was
kind of the point Polonarkis was making.” When she looked at him in confusion,
he explained, “He warned me we would never last because I’m not Greek and you
are in a major way.”

“Ugh!” She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into
his body. The feel of her was, as always, amazing. “He’s such an idiot. He
doesn’t understand why I was unhappy. He couldn’t see how his self-absorption
and relentless effort to climb the social ladder was what killed my love for
him. It was easier to blame it on my ethnocentricity.”

He hugged her closer, almost afraid to press her on the
issue. “So my not being Greek isn’t a problem?”

She tipped her head back to look at him. “If it were, I
wouldn’t have dated you in the first place. My time is precious. I don’t want
to waste it with someone who is an automatic dead-end for me.” She snuggled up
to him, rubbing her face on his chest in an uncharacteristic show of affection
given where they were and the number of people around. “I hope my outburst didn’t
weird you out.”

Knowing how much worse shit he put her through from
time-to-time with his nightmares, he couldn’t believe she worried about his
reaction to a little tongue-lashing. “Nah, I’m just glad you weren’t angry with
me. You were kind of awesome to behold,” he answered her truthfully. He dared
to plant a kiss on the top of her head. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell
me what you said?”

She shook her head. “Not in a million years. A boy your age
shouldn’t hear such naughty words.”

He chuckled because he knew she wanted him to, but he
wondered and he worried a little bit that she was still hung up on their age
difference.

* * * * *

Zoë burst out laughing when Sean pulled her onto his lap.
Flush from a round of line dancing, she had intended merely to sit beside him
on the picnic bench but he had other ideas. In front of her extended family
members and long-time friends, he made his claim. His arms encircled her waist
and he nuzzled one side of her sweaty neck. “Stop,” she protested. “I’m a
mess.” Belying her words, however, she clasped her hands behind his neck and
hugged him back.

“I love you all hot and wet, you know that,” he teased in a
low voice.

She laughed again, happy and carefree in a way she hadn’t
known in a long time. These last few months with Sean had been wonderful. It
felt good and right to have him with her out in the open, sharing a simple yet
common event in her life. “So what do you think of your first Greek picnic?”

“It’s great. The food, the music, everyone having so much
fun. I’m glad you brought me,” he added with a quick kiss to her lips.

She was glad too. Even though Sean had attracted a lot of
attention, everyone staring at him, assessing his worthiness as her boyfriend,
he had held up well. He smiled and answered some frankly rude questions with
good grace. He was a sweet boy. No, she shouldn’t think of him that way. He was
a man, her man, and she was proud to be sitting on his lap. They sat in
companionable silence for a few minutes, watching the line dancers. They ranged
from children to elderly women, good to just enthusiastic in their skill.

Sean chuckled. “Look at those little kids go. How can they
keep up those intricate steps at that age?”

“We teach them young.”

“I bet you were awesome as a little girl.”

“Of course. I’ve always loved to dance. When the rhythm
grabs you, it’s like you’re flying.”

He grinned up at her. “I bet you were cute as hell too.”
When she rolled her eyes in response, his smile widened. “Did you look like
that?” he asked, jutting his chin at a girl whirling by them with long black
hair and a seersucker dress. “She’s adorable.”

Zoë shifted her gaze from the child to Sean’s face. His
delight was obvious. Something tightened inside her. A thought she hadn’t
allowed herself to have before suddenly made itself known. “You like kids.” It
wasn’t really a question.

He answered her anyway. “Sure. What’s not to like?” He
looked at her. “What? You look kind of serious there.”

She tried to shake off the feeling of unease. With a shrug,
she said, “Nothing.”

“Zoë?” he persisted.

She sighed inwardly and pasted a smile on her face. “I was
just thinking you must want to have kids of your own someday.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it much.
I’m not sure a lot of guys my age do unless they’re in a relationship.” The
penny dropped noticeably in his head. “Oh, I get it. You’re done raising kids
and you think we’re doomed because I must want them.”

“We-ell,” she hemmed.

He tightened his grip. “Honestly, sweetheart, kids are not
on my radar screen. I’ve got nothing against fatherhood or anything, but I can
barely take care of myself, let alone a child.”

“Now, yes. Things will change. You’re going to want to get
married someday and have a little girl like that or a boy like you. Even my son
talks about having kids and he hasn’t yet finished college.”

He shook his head. “Maybe. I’m not sure I could handle the
stress and worry of raising a family. Not everyone is cut out for it, you
know.”

“I know,” she said quietly, her finger tracing a line along
his jaw. He was so damn sexy. She could easily picture him in her bed for the
rest of her life, which, of course, was going to end a lot sooner than his.
What if he stuck with her and regretted not having the kind of family most
people created in their lives?

He nudged her chin with his own. “Zoë? You’re thinking too
much again.”

“I suppose,” she reluctantly agreed with a sigh, except she
didn’t really think so.

Later in the night, with Sean’s body wrapped around her, his
softening cock still inside her, the worry came back. This time Sean wasn’t
awake to argue her out of it.

* * * * *

A week later, the concerns she had raised at the picnic
still pricked at her conscience. She hadn’t brought it up again with Sean,
knowing he would dismiss them again and fuck her into forgetting her doubts for
a while. So she kept quiet and tried to ignore them and enjoy their time
together. Diego was back to work, although still not completely healed. Summer
was drawing to a close. Sean would soon not be needed in the dishwashing room and
although she would gladly keep him on, she knew he wouldn’t let her. He didn’t
want what he would see as charity from anyone, let alone his girlfriend.
Besides, he would start a class in a few weeks for truck engine repair. He
would be on his way to restarting his life in a long-term fashion.

Working behind the counter in between the lunch and dinner
rush, she looked up when she heard someone enter. The middle-aged man in jeans,
t-shirt and scuffed boots was an older version of Sean. He was obviously Sean’s
father and the sight of the man coming into her diner sent nerves fluttering in
her stomach. She had asked to meet his parents a few times and Sean had put her
off with vague promises. She wasn’t sure if it was because he was embarrassed
by her or them. Probably a little of each, especially as it was obvious that
his father at least was only a few years older than Zoë. They must have started
pretty young, just as she had.

She nudged Joanne, one of her waitresses, aside in order to
greet the man herself. “Hi, welcome to Pavlia,” she said with as much cheer as
she could. “What can I get you?” Okay, maybe she should have copped to knowing
who he was right off the bat, but she felt a little cowardly.