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

by Rie Warren

  Stevie disappeared around a corner, and I exited the short hall into a kitchen the size of a postage stamp. She stood at a sink, filling a Mason jar. The room was yellow, the table flanked by mismatched seats—a pair of Shaker ladderbacks and two stools upholstered in what appeared to be cracked maroon vinyl. The counters next to the sink were laden with mismatched plates, chipped mugs from various tourist attractions, and an assortment of glasses in every hue on the spectrum.

  It was like Stevie’s colorful personality had seeped into her very surrounds. She set the flowers in the center of the table after clearing a space, and grabbed my hand.

  She led me to a living room where she left me on the threshold while she crossed the room to switch something over on the music. And my eyes almost popped out of my head when I realized she was fiddling with a record player.

  A genuine turntable!

  Not an iPod or her iPhone or an app. After she’d taken me to task about my clock.

  Standing there, my gaze swept the room. Which included stacks of vinyl LPs and a sofa heaped with cushions, much like her kitchen counter had been staggering beneath the stacks of dishes. Another geranium in front of the floor-to-ceiling window suffered the same anemic condition as the one at the door, and she had the smallest TV I’d seen in years.

  So very different from the woman who kept her worksite so clean and pristine and acted like her tools were as precious as diamonds. Although I bet her albums were in immaculate condition. The stereo alone was dusted and very clearly babied.

  She was not at all like Alice, who had believed everything had a place and clutter was a disruption.

  Stevie turned back to me. “Is something wrong?”

  “Uh. No. It’s great.” Charming in fact.

  Just not what I’d expected with Stevie. Which of course meant I should’ve expected it.

  “I mean it’s not as fucking awesome as what I’m building you, but—”

  “It’s not that at all, but you usually keep your tools and materials at the house so tidy?”

  “Ohhh.” She flopped onto the sofa. “I’m not a closet hoarder, I promise. I’m a slob sometimes. And worse, I like cold day-old pizza.” Wiggling her eyebrows, she propped her feet up on one of the many cushions. “And I’m not really into buying lots of new things that don’t matter.” She knocked her head lazily aside, pulling my gaze to perfectly aligned row upon row of the sexiest high heels I’d ever laid eyes on. “Except for shoes. I love high heels, high boots, anything that doesn’t remind me of my Wolverines.”

  Letting out a wolfish whistle, I inspected the incredibly hot collection. I suddenly imagined building new shelves in the closet specifically to house those cock-hardening stilettoes. And even more, I thought about her strutting around wearing nothing but the carnal red pair with silver tipped heels that looked sharp enough to prick a finger.

  “I know that look.” Her saucy smile called me back to her. “Maybe I’ll put some on . . . later.”

  I relaxed finally when she pulled me to her. Pulled me on top of her, humming low in her throat when we tasted one another again. The slick twist of tongues and warm strokes of hands drawing away nerves, replacing every other thought with the swelling need to seek out more skin.

  Too hot, too fast, and too heady. My blood pulsed directly to my cock, a hardening length pushing against the pelvis she tipped to meet me.

  Chuckling in a gravelly timbre, I breathed shallowly against her forehead, taut arousal straining my muscles.

  Stevie kissed the hollow of my throat then shoved at my shoulders. “Come, I’ll show you all around the rest of my majestic palace.”

  I swung off her, unable to hide the erection pounding in her eyeline.

  She said nothing, although she bit her bottom lip that’d been sucked to plump redness by me. She took my hand, and I guided her up.

  Then she showed me around the small apartment that revealed more secret wonders about Stevie Keller, starting with a cluster of framed photos atop a shelf above the old marble fireplace, which had to be original to the building.

  I picked up one amid many, peering at the man with the dark tanned face and the Keller Construction cap on his head.

  “That’s your father?”

  “The one and only.”

  “I think I’ve met him before at some lowcountry business thing or other.”

  “Surely not. Architects don’t hobnob with the likes of contractors.”

  “I’ll show you hobnobbing.” I set the photo down and swung around to take Stevie in my arms, but she took off at a sprint, only stopping in another open doorway.

  Inside was her bathroom, and I walked straight in. An assortment of womanly items lined the tiled counter, makeup, lipstick, hairbrushes, and her electric toothbrush on a stand.

  Pivoting toward the tub, I looked high and low.

  She lingered at the door. “What are you looking for?”

  “I’d hoped to see your lingerie hanging in here, drying.”

  “Seriously, Kane.” Stevie rolled her eyes. “No one handwashes lingerie anymore. Are you from the fifties or what?”

  “Don’t you dare start with me.” Stalking her way, I took her waist in my hand. “You’re the one with a record player. Cecilia doesn’t even know what vinyl is.”

  She twisted free, wandering from me again. “Anyway, who says I have any lingerie? Don’t you like my super sexy sports bras?”

  Growling, I caught up with her. “I love everything about you. But I’ve seen your super sexy thongs on occasion, so I’m pretty sure you’ve got more hidden somewhere.”

  “Naughty. I’m not sure I should let you into my bedroom at all.” Halting, she braced her arms wide to hold me off.

  Our light sound of laughter filled the hallway, filled my soul to bursting.

  I didn’t understand how a woman as young as her could be so coy, so flirty, so capable and so forthright at the same time.

  She is a wonder.

  Despite her jibe, she let me into her room.

  Sunlight from wide-open curtains hit me square in the face, dazzling me. Once my eyes adjusted, I noted the color. Light sandy brown, like the dunes at Isle of Palms. The hue almost the exact match to the newly painted walls in my bedroom in Mt. Pleasant.

  “I like the color,” I mentioned.

  “I thought you might,” she crossed inside, hanging back beside the bed.

  I moved to her dresser, remembering the night not so long ago when she’d discovered I’d removed Alice’s photograph.

  I’d spent a lot of time thinking about Alice.

  And thinking about Stevie, and how she must wonder where she stood with me . . . the widower.

  There were no pictures strewn on the dresser top. A few hair things—elastics and clips and pins—and a wrench that looked so out of place next to a half empty bottle of perfume.

  So completely Stevie.

  I picked up the perfume and sniffed. It held her scent as if capped inside—nothing sweet or young about it, but sensual and musky and absolutely womanly.

  Swift arousal thickened my blood, and I turned to the bed she waited beside.

  Pillows and cushions seemed lost at sea, as if she’d tossed them haphazardly across the expanse.

  “Can we try out the mattress?” I suggested, brimming with lust for her.

  “Out. Now.” She pointed to the door, a smile in her voice and a shining blue light to her irises. “You came here for dinner, mister.”

  “Speaking of, what are you cooking? Because I don’t smell anything.”

  “I ordered pizza.”

  “I thought you said you were making dinner.” I drew her into my arms, chasing after another kiss.

  She granted me one, a prim peck so unlike her I banded my arms around her to bring her back to my mouth.

  She bent away with a chuckle. “I am. I’m making it come to the door.”

  I barked a laugh just as a knock sounded, and she broke free.

  I pulled out my wallet,
fully intending to pay, and joined her at the entrance.

  “Put that away, Kane, and take this.” She shoved the hot cardboard box into my hands.

  “I’m not used to dates paying for my meal.”

  “And I don’t like men paying for me.” Shutting the door, she moved to the kitchen, pointing me toward the living room. “Park it on the floor. If those creaky bones can take it.”

  “One more word—” I raised a warning finger.

  She merely disappeared, trailing a giggle.

  I parked it on the floor then stood up when she entered, six pack and napkins in hand.

  We sat together, greasy, gooey, loaded pizza between us, guzzling beer, and I had more fun than I could remember as we polished off the food.

  At one point, Stevie leaned over and kissed my lips, swiping a piece of sausage from my slice while I was distracted.

  She popped the meat into her mouth, and I bent toward her, licking her savory lips, feeling her smile beneath mine.

  In the end, I sat with my back propped against the couch, her lounging between my spread legs and taking crust crumbs on her damp fingertips to dip between her lips.

  In that one moment, I wanted to tell her . . .

  Instead I looped my arms around her, and she turned her head, mouth brushing against the shadow of stubble on my jaw.

  “Do you want dessert? I have ice cream.”

  “I want you.” My arms tightened.

  Stevie shivered, then she straightened around to kiss me. She rose to her feet, giving me her hand.

  I leaped up, letting her lead me again.

  To her bedroom.

  Where I wanted to possess her.

  Protect her.

  Be inside her as no other man could.

  She disrobed me slowly, stroking my entire body. I undressed her languorously, worshipping her with my mouth.

  When our clothes lay fallow at our feet, I waited for Stevie to make the first move.

  She clasped my hand, pulled me after her, and pushed me down to the bed.

  “I can’t wait tonight, Kane. I need you inside me.”

  Her delicious words delivered in a smoky tone hit me with another pulse of blood to my cock.

  “Are you ready for me?” I guided her down to recline next to me, awed and aroused by the sight of her slim limbs and high breasts and perfectly smooth pussy.

  She took my hand, pulling it between her splayed thighs, into her creamy essence.

  A groan tore from my throat as I slid two fingers deeper.

  But I withdrew them, brought them to my mouth, sucked them clean. “Not yet, sweetheart. I have this dream of you.”

  She dragged fingertips over my solid heavy erection. “I’d never deny you a dream.”

  “I want you on top of my face.”

  “That seems more like one of your dirty fantasies.” She still had the wherewithal to come back at me, but as soon as she poised above me, pussy pink and glistening and nearly on my mouth, she held onto the headboard and rolled her hips.

  I grabbed her ass in two hands and seated her fully on my face.

  I drew wet lines along her feverishly hot flesh, fluttering her clit delicately with the tip of my tongue. A hungry growl passed my lips, and I pulled her harder, saturating my mouth with her wetness. Her hips shimmied, and I looked up to see her back arched, tits thrust out, nipples pointed and blushing pink.

  She tasted so sweet and swelled so gently against my mouth, a liquid inferno I greedily drank from. Her ass warm and bouncy in my palms, her pussy ripe and juicy against my tongue, her noises high and throaty with each slathering lap I took.

  I smelled the scent of her perfume mixed with her own essence and nosed against her inner thigh while I spread her cunt open with my fingers.

  Voice rough, I asked, “Did you put perfume down here too?”

  “Yes.” She trembled and gasped.

  “For me?” I slid a finger inside her sheath—her heat clinging to me.

  “Yes, Kane.”

  A possessive noise rumbled from my chest, and I doubled my fingers inside her, traipsed my tongue all over her. She grew hotter, wetter, pinker from my needy explorations.

  My cock rose ramrod stiff from my groin, precum spilling from a head that was so engorged I wanted to sink deep inside her.

  I enveloped her clit between my lips, lightly trilling it. My fingers buried faster, wet slaps of sound rising from her pussy, then she gushed in a burst.

  Screaming, she buckled on top of me.

  I quickly planted my mouth back over her hole, feeling the wild inner vibrations on my tongue and feeding from the wealth of her sweet, sweet body.

  As soon as she came, I hauled her beneath me.

  The first thrust arcane, I stilled deep inside Stevie’s tight, wet, pulsing warmth.

  “Oh, Kane.” Special light shined from her eyes, and she enclosed me in an embrace that locked us together from heart to sheath.

  I couldn’t look away from her.

  She was everything.

  Her neck arched, and I kissed the tight strum of taut tendons down to the hollow of her collarbone.

  My body drove harder, and she dug her heels into my ass, pulling me deeper.

  At the end, I strove up to my hands. I rutted with force. I carried her with me, carried her over, carried her in my arms once more when the driving impulse to mate melted away beneath supine limbs and long soft breaths.

  And long moments had passed with Stevie warm in my embrace, nestled perfectly against my side, when she whispered almost timidly, “Will you tell me about Alice?”

  Surprise coursed through me, and I took a deep settling breath before answering the best way I knew how. “What do you want to know, sweetheart?”

  “Is it true you and she rarely disagreed?” Her voice even quieter, she dipped her forehead against my throat.

  “Yeah. Mostly. We didn’t really have a lot to fight about.” My shrug lifted Stevie’s head. “We made decisions together, and Alice never had much of a temper. Neither did I, come to think of it, not until you.”

  “Well, that’s definitely not a compliment.” Stevie flopped off me and onto her back, hiding her face beneath a forearm. “So basically she was the opposite of me.”

  “That’s not a bad thing.” Not to me. Lord.

  She didn’t reply, so I reclined on my side and smoothed a hand along her hip to her waist to just below her budded breast and back again.

  “Alice was my first love. We met in college and got married when I was just twenty-two. She was soft-spoken except when it came to anything concerning our Cecilia.”

  Stevie flinched when I said our Cecilia.

  I gently pried her arm away from her face to draw her hand within mine to my chest. “Cecilia looks an awful lot like her, but to be honest, their personalities are—were—night and day.”

  “Do you miss her?”

  “In the way something you remember—something so important—begins fading.” I laced my fingers through Stevie’s.

  “Does it still hurt?” She peered up at me with tears in her eyes, and I brushed the fallen ones away with a tender touch.

  “You’re the one crying, Stevie, not me.” I cleared my throat, and cradled her precious face. “There are pangs sometimes, I can’t deny that.”

  “When?”

  “Holidays are the worst. Christmas can be pretty lonesome. And Cecilia’s birthday. Alice would always plan huge parties for her. I’m not good at that sort of thing. And of course, every year on the day she died.” I pressed my lips together.

  Stevie nodded sadly, her thumb smoothing around and around the backs of my knuckles.

  “But the hurt goes away when it’s replaced by hope.” I jostled her gently until she met my gaze. “Such unexpected hope.”

  “Is there hope?”

  “Alice was my first love. That doesn’t mean she was my last,” I said in a deep tone, with all sincerity and all the meaning I could put behind it.

  Stevie
returned my long serious regard, although a warm glow made her cheeks pink.

  Then she murmured a soft, “Oooooh.”

  And I knew she understood the full portent of the emotions behind the words.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Stevie

  OOOOOH.

  Kane was maybe sort of saying he was in love with me without actually saying it out loud.

  Hope bloomed inside me, a light feeling that radiated warmth.

  I’d never been in love. Not really.

  Not like this.

  And definitely not with a man who’d lost his wife.

  Had a daughter.

  I still wasn’t convinced I was at all suitable for him.

  “Oh?” One of his eyebrows quirked. “Is that all you’ve got to say to me?”

  “It’s unexpected?”

  He laughed, the thunder-rumble from his belly that lit his entire face and smoothed the lines from his brow. “And strange. I think you said that once before.”

  Cuddling closer, I tried to embrace the hope, let go of the fears.

  Kissing my cheek, he asked, “Anything else you want to know while you have me at your mercy?”

  I smiled against him, sure he could feel it. “I don’t think you’ve ever been at my mercy, Mr. Bishop.”

  “I beg to differ, Miss Keller.”

  Sweeping my fingers along the dark hair on his chest, I watched chills rise wherever I touched. “Are you sure we know what we’re doing together?”

  “I have no idea.”

  I popped up, and he silenced me with a fingertip before asking, “Do you?”

  Vulnerability swooping back in, I shook my head.

  “But I know one thing.” Earnest and eager, he continued. “What’s happening, it’s getting bigger, and it’s not just about me. I want to meet your father properly, and your brother, your friends.” He kissed away the vulnerability, tugging me on top of him. “I want it all with you.”

  ****

  Kane and I hadn’t really talked about the future aside from that night at my place. A blissful week ensued, and by blissful I meant I ran my ass ragged on the punch list at Kane’s house.

  Now it was the final day. I was alone in his home. I drifted through the rooms—the contractor one last time. I brushed a hand across every new surface. I looked out through the new windows. I wondered where my place would be inside this house now that the job was over.