TooHottoTouch Read online

  Too Hot to Touch

  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

  TOO HOT TO TOUCH

  Samantha Cayto

  Chapter One

  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, experien
ced 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.

  Zoë shrieked, her eyes popping wide, disbelief covering her face. She smiled. A breathless chuckle passed her lips as she swiped her hand down her front. The wet material clung to her curves. Her nipples hardened to even finer points. “Naughty boy,” she chided in a tone more seduction than admonishment. “I should fire you for that.”

  “You won’t,” he replied, dropping the hose and stepping up to her. His blood pounded in his veins, filling his cock. “You should get out of that wet shirt.” He moved slowly so as to not spook her. He needn’t have bothered, she stayed rooted to the spot, her eyes mirroring the heated desire pulsing through him. He fisted the sides of her shirt and drew the wet material up her body. Smooth pale skin greeted him, relieved by a lacy black bra covering those ample breasts. The tops of the mounds spilled over the cups, enticing him.

  With Zoë’s shirt tucked under her arms, Sean leaned forward and pressed his hungry lips against the spot where her dark nipples showed through. His tongue lapped at the nubs, coaxing them out. Zoë moaned and thrust her body closer to him. He answered with a growl and used his teeth to welcome the arrival of that hard point. A hand came down on his head, clenched at his hair, pushed his face closer to her chest.

  “More,” came the breathless command.

  Always a good soldier, he followed orders. Without letting go of her breast, he tightened the grip on her body, turned her and hoisted her onto the metal counter. Then he did let go, but only to send his tongue lapping down her stomach. The soft flesh undulated as he made his
way down, down to the crisp curls between her legs. They were there waiting for him as was the plump mons. Her pants were magically gone. He didn’t stop to ponder the wonder of his fortune, he went straight to the place they both wanted him to be. His tongue slid between her wet folds, seeking a new toy to play with.

  Zoë gasped and bucked her cunt against his face. Her fingers yanked harder at his hair. He heard her speak above him. “I think that plate’s clean enough.”

  Sean’s head snapped up. “Huh?”

  “The hose is just to get the more obvious gunk off. Leave something for the dishwasher, man.” Diego, one arm in a sling, leaned against the counter, watching his protégé, making sure Sean did it right.

  In truth, Sean had mastered the art of commercial dishwashing pretty quickly. It wasn’t that hard. Still, the other guy needed to feel needed, so he didn’t mind having him hang around. “Thanks,” he said with a quick smile. “I appreciate the help.”

  For sure the little lie was better than admitting what had actually distracted him from his task. Christ, what kind of mental case was he to daydream about going down on his boss, at work no less? He couldn’t even give the anonymous version to his colleague. Diego wasn’t exactly a guy-talk kind of guy. Not only was he prettier than most women Sean had ever dated, but he was also pretty open about being gay. It was kind of weird, not the gay part, but the fact that a Brazilian was so open about it. In Sean’s experience, it was a very macho culture. He found it refreshing how comfortable this guy was in his own skin.

  “So, you were in the army, huh?” his companion asked.

  Sean hesitated only a second before answering. “Yeah, it turned out not to be the right fit for me.” Wasn’t that the understatement of the year? “I went in to get training in mechanics. I was always good at fiddling with cars and shit. Unfortunately, being at war, Uncle Sam put me in infantry. Just my luck to be big and a really good shot. I never did get to work in the motor pool.”