Why Her?: May December Romance (Mistaken Identities Book 2)

by Rie Warren

  Stevie had glanced back at me with blue eyes twinkling. “Depends.” Then she’d lowered her voice. “Your dad still likes to think he’s in charge.”

  Cecilia giggled. Stevie laughed. And I didn’t even care all the amusement was at my expense because Cecilia hadn’t let loose like that in such a long time.

  But I’d pretended to stick my nose back in my laptop.

  “I love your kicks.”

  I looked over to see Stevie admiring the sneakers I’d bought Cecilia over the weekend.

  “New Cons.” My daughter had minced back a few steps then pivoted like the sparkly hi-tops were ballet slippers.

  I hadn’t seen Stevie in anything but the one pair of wickedly hot high heels and her work boots. I wondered what she’d look like in sneakers and sweats. Or nothing at all.

  “Dig ’em hard,” Stevie had complimented. “Prolly gotta get back to work now, or your dad might fire me.”

  I grumbled something like, “Doubt it.”

  “Okay. Cool. See ya later!” Cecilia had dashed upstairs, leaving me alone with Stevie, who turned those bright blue eyes on me.

  Bright blue eyes that washed over with dampness.

  “She’s wonderful, Kane.”

  Emotions had caught my voice, and I slowly closed my laptop. “Thank you.”

  “You’re doing a good job. I know it must be hard.”

  I folded my hands together, wondering just how much she could understand of my situation, raising a daughter without my wife.

  “You’re doing a good job too, Stevie.”

  I’d been surprised when she’d sniffled then turned away. Her hand came up, and I thought she might be wiping at her eyes.

  I’d watched her walk away, wondering why she’d teared up.

  Wondering what it would be like to hold her.

  Stevie and her crew had completed the kitchen in record time, a relief because eating takeout had gotten real old real fast. And she’d done a remarkable job from the countertops to the new cabinets to the appliances.

  Her crew, Frank and Brian, with a couple more guys on heavy days, made a raucous bunch but were as adept as she was—they clearly respected the young lady who ordered them from task to task, always checking off items on her clipboard. And she was just as bawdy as them the many times I walked in on her heckling Frank. He took the old man routine to extremes, claiming not to understand the Internet or cell phones. He was probably only a few years older than my thirty-nine. Brian, on the other hand, perpetually acted like he wanted to date Stevie, which seemed to be a harmless running joke between the two of them.

  She’d flip them off.

  They’d laugh it off.

  I’d hide a grin, shaking my head.

  I never felt a jealous surge or protective urge regarding Frank or Brian’s attentions. But the ex-boyfriend she’d let slip about . . . that was another thing entirely. I hadn’t met the schmuck, and hoped I never did, because I definitely had a beef with the guy who made her turn pale and shaky, not in a good way, with just one phone call.

  I wanted to flatten him with my fist in his face. I’d feel the same way if some loser was harassing Cecilia.

  But the things I felt for Stevie resembled nothing like fatherly love.

  Even the sight of her in full work gear—Carhartts and hardhat and steel-toed boots—stirred something low and primal. Sparks ignited every time we were in a room together, and it wasn’t one-sided. I’d caught her staring at my hands while I held a mug of coffee, licking her pink lips when she listened to me talk, trying to steady a nail while I watched her with the hammer poised.

  She was opinionated. Sassy. Determined.

  Gorgeous.

  Verbally sparring with her made me want to possess her as no man ever had. Or throw her over my lap, pull down her pants, and spank her bouncy ass then fuck her through the floor.

  Guilt riddled me.

  As if all these unbidden thoughts were a betrayal of Alice. Base lust—dirty thoughts—had never defined my marriage to her. Yet sometimes all I could think about was rutting between Stevie’s long, shapely legs and filling her with my cum.

  Stevie changed things. And it was unsettling, exciting, confusing.

  Not to mention I’d gone to bed with more hard-ons than was healthy. Ripe erections all caused by one Stevie Keller.

  I got home Thursday afternoon earlier than expected and found the house locked up and deserted. Disappointed I’d missed an opportunity to see Stevie, I stripped off my suit and ducked into the shower. The master bedroom/bathroom remodel was due to start tomorrow—those new ideas Stevie had talked me into—but I’d relish the last few moments before she went all wrecking crew on my rooms.

  I took a long hot shower, managing to wash away the last lingering thoughts of her. Stepping into the bedroom, I almost lost my grip on the towel slung around my hips.

  Stevie jumped away from one of the windows, her tape measure whirring back and her mouth dropping open. “Oh, shit. Saw your car but thought you must be out for a run.”

  “Didn’t you hear the shower?”

  “I just got here. You . . .” She pulled her plump bottom lip between her teeth before releasing it. “You must’ve been drying off.”

  My nostrils flared, and I swore I could sense her heat. “What are you doing here?”

  Her eyes traveled over me with slow burning intent, and great, now I was in danger of boasting another erection just because she was standing in my bedroom. And looking at me like a woman who wanted to see me in a whole lot less than the quickly tenting towel.

  I placed a hand in front of my groin, and her gaze rose unblinkingly.

  “Uh . . . well . . . the . . . um.” She stumbled and fumbled and stared some more, especially when a drop of water coursed down my chest to my abdomen. “The, um, windows arrived for installation, and I wanted to double-check the dimensions?”

  She was definitely checking out some dimensions. The dimensions of my nearly naked body.

  I wondered how she’d react if I simply hauled her into my arms and finally got her naked on my bed. I wanted her so badly, another rush of blood engorged my cock even more.

  Taking a sideways step toward the door, I swallowed down the roughness of my voice. “I moved all my clothes to one of the spare rooms so I wouldn’t get in y’all’s way.”

  “Well, damn.” A wicked light entered her vivid blue eyes. “Don’t get dressed on my account.”

  Darkening desire held me in place, hooded my eyes.

  “Just kidding.” Pocketing her tape measure with jerky movements, she shook her head as if to clear it. “I need to, um, head out. I think.”

  But then suddenly we were both at the door, squeezed together, and I wanted the towel and her clothes to disappear altogether.

  Stevie gulped, her face level with my bare chest.

  I inhaled raggedly, my breath fanning across her hair.

  “You smell really good.” Her gaze slid up to mine.

  “You—”

  Giggling, she pressed two fingertips to my mouth. “I stink.”

  I tilted my head, trying to keep my barely concealed, fully hard cock from springing against her. “You smell like good clean work. I respect that.”

  “Not exactly the thing wet dreams are made of though.”

  “You’d be surprised,” I said, low and raspy.

  “Would I?” Her hips circled, just once and very slowly.

  “Stevie, this is a bad idea.

  “The worst.” But she didn’t move.

  Neither did I.

  Breath stuttered in and out of my chest, and I thought I felt her nipples, hard dots against me. My hands rose to settle at her waist before skimming higher, and Stevie stared into my eyes—hers dilated and outlined by feathery lashes. When I brushed the underside of her breasts, her fingers traversed the rigid flesh jutting between my legs.

  We pulled away at the same moment, cheeks hot, breathing rushed, desire burning.

  “I have to go p
ick up Cecilia.”

  “I’m just about done for the day, so I’ll—” She hurried to the stairs. “Yeah.”

  As soon as I heard the front door close, I dropped my head against the wall and a hand low to throttle my rearing dick.

  Stevie was testing the limits of my control.

  ****

  Two seconds after Cecilia got into the SUV, she swiveled toward me. “God, Dad. How much longer are we going to live at a building site?”

  “As long as it takes probably.” I secretly hoped Stevie ran into a snag that made the remodel take more months than necessary.

  Or the exact opposite because the mere thought of her made my pulse speed, and the sight of her . . . I wanted to do a hell of a lot more than brush against her in passing.

  “Actually, I don’t mind the builders and stuff. It’s nice having more people around the house.” Cecilia twirled the end of her braid around a fingertip, pretending to be all innocent, but I sensed she was going somewhere with this.

  I didn’t have to wait long, but I was still surprised when she casually mentioned, “Stevie’s super pretty, don’t you think? And did you know she has two tattoos?”

  “Can’t say I’d noticed.” I’d definitely noticed.

  She wasn’t pretty though. She was stunning. And the idea of a second tattoo in addition to the peacock pricked my interest because I definitely hadn’t seen it, and now I wondered where the hell it was on her sun-kissed body.

  Definitely time for a quick change of subject.

  “You know I don’t really like you going on sleepovers on a school night, right?”

  “I’m fourteen, Dad. We’re going to do our homework, try out a new pizza recipe, and then watch a movie. That’s it.”

  “Promise you’ll be in bed by ten? And limit the social media shenanigans.”

  “Shenanigans.” She giggled.

  “Who else is staying at Samantha’s?”

  “Ellie and Abigail.” Spinning further toward me, Cecilia tapped me on the arm. “Oh, guess what? You know Ellie’s parents are divorced, right? So we were thinking maybe you and her mom—”

  Oh shit. I needed to head this off at the pass.

  “Not going to happen, honey.” I patted Cecilia on the knee.

  “But, Dad, it’s been—”

  “I don’t need you to play matchmaker for me.” I tried not to sound stern, but Cecilia had enough going on in her teenage life.

  She definitely didn’t need to be worried about me or my lack of love life.

  Alice had died so suddenly; she was with us one moment and gone the next. The car accident ended her life in an instant. Her death had destroyed our happiness in a single second. I didn’t remember much of the months immediately afterward apart from the excruciating details of death. Decisions that had to be made. Belongings to be parsed through. Family to be contacted and consoled.

  Then the silence. And the morbid matter of finding a reason to carry on again.

  Cecilia had been that reason for me. Our daughter. My daughter. The final reminder of Alice, Cecilia looked exactly like her mother when she smiled in an offhand way. The smile that caused a pang to my heart.

  Somehow she’d come out of the darkest of times not unscathed, but still optimistic of spirit.

  And persistent if nothing else.

  “I don’t want you to be lonely.” She thrust out her bottom lip in a pout before brightening. “And if you got married to Ellie’s mom, I’d have my best friend as a sister!”

  “Then you wouldn’t get spoiled as much.” I winked at her.

  “Whatever. Anyway, you seem happier since Stevie came to work on the house.”

  “Do I?” I shifted uncomfortably under her suddenly astute gaze.

  “Mm hmm. And I think she likes you?”

  “Who?”

  “Stevie.”

  Sputter sputter.

  Maintaining a straight face, I kept my eyes on the road ahead. “I think you think everyone likes me. Besides, I’m fairly certain Stevie thinks I’m a giant pain in her butt.”

  ****

  Tension building to breaking point, I could either take matters into my own hands or risk making a huge mistake with Stevie.

  I didn’t want a one-night stand.

  I wasn’t in the market for a relationship.

  And I certainly didn’t want to get involved with a twenty-something-year-old who had no idea how hard life could be and didn’t need my particular baggage in her life.

  So, I did the next best thing to try to get Stevie out of my head. As soon as I got home from dropping Cecilia off at her friend’s, I gave in to the need to get some relief.

  I didn’t even make it to the damn bedroom.

  Falling to an armchair, I popped through the buttons on my shirt, shoved my tie aside, almost tore my belt off.

  Fuck. I should’ve just worn running shorts. I couldn’t get my dick out fast enough.

  As soon as I had the meaty erection in hand, I groaned. The hard hot flesh lurched in my hold.

  I should’ve done this in the shower.

  Imagine if Stevie had heard me.

  If she’d caught me.

  If she’d stripped down to soft naked skin and joined me under the water.

  “Fuck. Stevie.” I couldn’t get the beautiful woman out of my head.

  My balls churned. My cock harder than a steel post. Just the thought of her, and precum pumped from the little slit in the engorged head.

  I slathered the slickness around, hissing when my palm rubbed the dome of my dick.

  If I was going to jerk off, I wanted it to last.

  Feet stamped on the floor, I leaned back, spread my legs, lifted my balls out of my pants. I choked the base of my cock for a moment, and the whole length swelled harder.

  Shutting my eyes, I imagined Stevie on her knees in front of me.

  Something about how brazen she was made me think she’d know how to give really good head. Probably wouldn’t even care if I grasped her hair in a fist and plunged her pink lips up and down my shaft until rivers of saliva slid to my balls.

  Bet she definitely swallowed.

  “Oh, fuck. Open that sassy mouth, sweetheart. Choke on that cock, Stevie.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Stevie

  I’D RUSHED OUT IN such a hurry after almost kissing Kane again that I’d gotten all the way home before I realized I’d forgotten my laser level at his house. It wasn’t one hundred percent necessary I retrieve it tonight, but my dad’s rules were nailed into my head, and number one above all was his creed to treat your tools like your job depended on it.

  Kane’s cool as fuck Mercedes was in the driveway, and I thought about knocking, but he’d already scolded me a few times about that, so I slipped inside and headed toward the kitchen where I’d last seen the digital level.

  “Fuck, Stevie.” Kane’s deep voice stopped me dead in my tracks.

  I thought he’d heard me enter the house, and I was just about to jump around the corner of the living room to explain I’d forgotten my level when he growled out, “Suck my cock.”

  Ohhhhh.

  Oh my God.

  Heat flushed my body in an instant. With a hand covering my mouth, I tiptoed through the entryway and peeked into the living room.

  Oh my fucking God.

  Kane sat in a large leather chair, head thrown back.

  Tie askew.

  Shirt unbuttoned.

  Sculpted tanned chest covered in soft-looking sooty-colored hair that arrowed to a thin line along his abdominals before . . .

  Pants open, and Oh. My. God. COCK.

  Oh Jesus Christ.

  Kane was hung.

  He gripped a fat, furiously hard dick in one large hand, pulling up on the veined beast until his knuckles butted the head. A large head that was dark and swollen and slick.

  Mouthwatering.

  Not to mention the pure filth pouring from his mouth.

  “Take it deeper, baby,” Kane ordered the me he
clearly fantasized about, and I imagined crawling up to him, taking that incredibly hard cock all the way into my throat.

  I bit down on my lip, straining to go to him, knowing I shouldn’t watch him.

  Helpless to do anything but.

  Arousal skittered to my pussy in a flash. Liquid seeped from my cunt. Swollen nipples puckered beneath my bra. I wanted to slip a hand between my thighs to relieve the tingling ache as goose bumps erupted across my flesh.

  Wet sounds echoed from Kane’s long slow strokes. More precum poured out and his whole cock glistened with each snick snick snick.

  Kane Bishop.

  Suave. Distinguished. And absolutely dirty.

  His grip tightened at the thick base, and his other hand trailed lightly up and over the long length, fingers swirling across the tip then cruising back down faster.

  Until he drew his hands away to clench the arms of the chair, a grunt parting his lips.

  “Don’t wanna come to soon.”

  I couldn’t move. The slick lips of my pussy rubbed together. Wiggling a little, I tried not to make a sound even though a whimper crawled up my throat.

  He was magnificent when he went back to pumping his cock in a two-fisted hold that started out loose at the root then closed over the swelling purplish head.

  Large hands.

  Probably hot hands.

  Rough hands that had barely grazed my breasts earlier.

  “Yes. Lick my balls.” He lifted the weighty-looking sac and ran a thumb down the center, separating each testicle.

  I covered my mouth with a hand, almost crying out with lurid need.

  He sped, the sounds even more luscious and lewd and tantalizing.

  All the muscles in his upper body flexed, sweat making the hair on his chest glimmer.

  I wanted to lick him all over. Rub my tits against that mighty chest. Tickle my fingers through the hair. Press my nose against his balls just to breathe in all his manly scent where he was most potent.

  He slowed. Stopped. Forearms ropey with tension, he rubbed lightly just beneath the bulging head. His charged organ visibly pulsed.

  Then he choked out my name, cum blasting out in thick white streams to coat his stomach, his chest, his hand, his dick.

  So much cum.

  Before he came to his senses, I fled without retrieving the frigging level. I slipped from the door and shut it as quietly as possible. I got inside my truck, legs shaking, body hot, nipples tight, desperate to take him in my mouth. To taste him. To get fucked and fucked to within an ounce of my life by him.