Kavanagh Christmas: A Kavanagh Legends Holiday Novella

by Sarah Robinson

  After almost five years in this family, and being married to Rory for the last year, she’d basically been adopted as one of the Kavanaghs. Dee was like a mother to her, and Clare loved feeling like she truly belonged for the first time. There were no strings, no expectations, no jumping through hoops to prove her worth like she'd once had to do when living in California. They loved her for who she was, and what she was to Rory. That acceptance was one of the greatest gifts she’d ever received in her life.

  “Well, I’m certainly going to do everything I can, and hope my testimony will be enough to keep him behind bars.” Clare felt the usual churning in her gut that happened anytime her ex-boyfriend, Travis Creighton, was mentioned.

  After he was apprehended four years ago, she’d thought everything was over. She could move on. So, when her attorney called her last week to let her know he was being granted a parole hearing due to his good behavior behind bars, she’d come completely undone. This wasn’t supposed to happen—he’d had enough charges against him to keep him in prison for life. But he had connections in California, and when he was transferred from a New York prison to the west coast, he’d probably pulled the strings necessary to get this chance.

  “You’re going to do great, honey,” Dee said, giving her a one-armed hug as she stood and cleared the dishes. “Is Rory on his way home?”

  Clare checked her phone, seeing a message on the screen from her husband. “Yep. He just left Ace at Kieran’s.”

  They were headed straight to the airport once he got here, leaving their dog with Rory’s younger brother while they were in California. Dee had come by to see them off. Clare was glad she got along so well with her mother-in-law since Dee loved to be involved in everything. Like…everything. All of her children were grown and successful, yet Dee still coddled every one of them, and now their spouses and partners.

  “I’ll head out after I say goodbye to him,” Dee mused, wiping down the kitchen counter. “I’m taking Shea for the night, so Kieran and Fiona can have a date night.”

  “That’s nice,” Clare replied. “They need it.”

  Kieran and Fiona had recently married and he’d adopted her younger sister with special needs, Shea. Fiona had quickly become one of Clare’s closest friends, along with Fiona’s childhood friend, Nora, who was dating Kieran’s twin, Kane. Nora and Kane weren’t around much, trading the Bronx for a high-profile life on the road as Kane competed in mixed martial arts competitions around the world. He’d quickly become one of the best, and so they usually only saw him on holidays or special occasions.

  Rory’s other younger siblings, Quinn and Jimmy, were still living their usual bachelor lives, but Clare was sure they'd settle down soon. She couldn't wait because this testosterone driven family needed more women. Casey, Rory's little cousin who'd been raised alongside them like a sister, was doing a semester abroad in London as she finished her bachelor’s degree, and Clare missed her deeply.

  “Hey, mhuirnín.” Rory walked into the kitchen with a small duffel bag over his shoulder, dropping it on to the ground to take her in his arms. She melted almost instantly, the tension seeping from her bones as she circled her arms around his neck and buried her face into his long hair. He’d been letting it grow out, and it was so freaking sexy that she’d begged him not to cut it. Deep brown locks shaped his face, darkened by the stubble on his jaw, and just touched the top of his broad, muscular shoulders. He was practically a giant, and she loved every inch of him.

  He growled ever so slightly into her ear, then kissed her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better now.” She sighed as he let go, his silver eyes fixed on her.

  “Good. Everything’s going to be okay. I’m not leaving your side until we’re back in New York,” he replied. “Maybe not even then.”

  Clare pushed up on her tiptoes to gently kiss his lips. “I love you.”

  “Love you, mhuirnín.” He then turned his attention to greet his mother.

  Thirty minutes and many goodbyes later, Clare slid into the taxi next to Rory on their way to the airport. Her stomach rolled as she watched Woodlawn, her home, fly by, knowing in a few hours she’d be back in her old home, her old life.

  She’d spent five years trying to leave it in the past, and her testimony at Travis’s parole hearing might be the final step toward ridding herself of her old life for good.

  But, if he went free…

  Clare shuddered.

  Chapter 2

  “Fuck, this place is nice.” Rory walked around the hotel suite, taking in their new surroundings for the next few days. Glancing out the expansive window, he could see the beaches and the Pacific Ocean stretching out before him. "We should stay an extra day, and spend it on the beach."

  “I’m not staying here one more minute than I have to,” Clare replied, a tremor in her voice.

  Shit, that was insensitive. “Of course. You’re right.” Rory crossed the room to where she was sitting on the edge of a plush king sized bed. “We’ll head to the airport the moment your testimony is over. They can tell us the verdict once we’re back in New York.”

  She nodded, but still looked uneasy. Hell, she’d been a ball of nerves for the last week since they’d found out about the hearing. He’d done everything he could to distract her, but until it was over, there wasn’t much help he could really be.

  “How about a walk? A little sand and sun to get our minds off everything?”

  She glanced up at him, seemingly mulling over the idea. “Sure. Let me get changed first, though. Traveling all day makes me feel…blech.” She shook her hands, a small smile lighting her lips. “Actually, a shower might be really nice right now. Can you bring our bags in?”

  “Sure.” Rory moved their bags from the doorway onto a table top, spreading them out to find some fresh clothes to wear. Within minutes, steam was billowing out of the bathroom as he heard Clare softly singing to herself under the running water.

  The image of his wife’s hands sliding over her body, warm water cascading over her was more than enough to raise his attention—along with other parts of him. Despite their many years together, he was as attracted to her now as he’d ever been. They were both a little older, a little wiser, but their need for each other had never lessened.

  Stripping off his clothes, Rory stepped into the steamy bathroom and knocked softly on the open door. “Clare?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Want some company?”

  She peeked her head out from behind the shower curtain and let her eyes rake over his naked body. “You do look very dirty,” she teased.

  His member pulsed at the way she looked at him. “So fucking dirty.” A groan escaped his throat as he crossed the bathroom and climbed into the shower behind her.

  His lips were on hers the moment the warm water splashed over him, lifting her into his arms as she wrapped one leg around his waist. Pressed against her entrance, he walked her back against the tile wall and dipped to capture one of her nipples between his lips.

  "Oh!" She gasped but pushed her hips against him harder. The friction was almost too much, wanting to bury himself in her completely. Not yet. She needed this first. She needed the distraction, and he was going to give it to her.

  His tongue swirled around the pert bud, pulling gently as his free hand cupped her other breast. Her moans became louder, her hips moving faster as she pushed against him. Letting go of her breasts, he licked a trail up her chest and neck until devouring her mouth once more.

  This time, he grabbed her ass with both hands and lifted her off the shower floor. She circled her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. She pushed against him once more, her heat too inviting to wait another moment. When he slid inside her, they melted together. Moans and grunts played in harmony to the rushing water from the shower head as he filled every inch of her.

  Her legs began to shake, trembling against him. He moved quicker, chasing his own climax as she pulsed against him, crying out with pleasure.
>
  “Rory!” A sharp pain pierced his shoulder, but it only made him harder. She liked to bite, and he was more than willing. “Oh, God. Oh, shit.”

  He chuckled for a moment until his own release caught him off guard. Pressing her back to the tile wall, he grunted and emptied himself inside her. With every pulse, he pushed deeper until he had nothing left and they were just leaning against one another under the warm water.

  “I feel like we didn’t do the best job cleaning up,” she teased, grabbing a tiny bottle of shampoo from a corner shelf.

  Rory swatted her ass, chuckling. “Hand me that soap and I’ll get you clean.”

  “Promises, promises.” But she handed him the soap, turning her back to him and running shampoo through her hair.

  Reaching out of the shower, he grabbed a washcloth from the rack and began lathering it was the bar of soap and warm water. Slowly, thoroughly, he slid the cloth across every inch of her back and arms, reaching around to pay special attention to her breasts.

  Clare moaned and leaned her back into him as he continued to wash her. Cleaning the suds off one hand, he slid it between her legs. Small circles, deep strokes, pushing her closer and closer to another climax.

  She widened her stance to give him better access and dropped her head back onto his shoulder with a soft sigh. “I love you, Rory.” A dreamy murmur, her eyes closed.

  His heart thudded in his chest, the way it always did when the love of his life reminded him how much she loved him too. Knowing he could elicit this pleasure for her, take her mind away from their current stressors, and bring her a momentary happiness was all he ever needed to feel fulfilled. “I love you, mhuirnín.”

  Dipping a finger inside her core, he was soon holding her up as she shuddered and shook against him, lost in her climax. Satiated and tired, he finished washing her body and rinsed her hair with a gentle head massage before cleaning himself.

  “Do you mind if we just stay in tonight?” Clare asked as they dressed in soft, plush bath robes. “Pay per view movie, room service, comfy bed…” She wiggled her brows suggestively as she let the bathrobe fall open.

  His eyes immediately traveled south to the sliver of damp skin, and all thoughts of leaving bed tonight were gone. “Oh, hell yes.”

  With one quick motion, he lifted her and gently tossed her onto the bed.

  “Rory!” Clare shrieked, giggling as he climbed on top of her and pushed her robe open wider. “We haven’t even ordered room service yet!”

  “I could eat.” He nipped the skin on the top of her breast before sliding down between her legs and spreading her wide.

  She squirmed, her breath already quickening as he licked and nibbled her inner thigh moving closer and closer to her core. Then his tongue was on her—long, slow, steady strokes as she pushed against him. Feeling her tipping over the edge, he pressed faster and harder, flicking his tongue against her clit as he sucked it between his lips.

  “Oh, God!” Clare turned her head into the pillow, her screams muffled and she shattered against him.

  Just as she began to still, he moved higher and pressed his length inside her in one quick motion. She moaned, clenching her knees on either side of his hip as he thrust in and out of her.

  “You feel so fucking good, Clare.” His words came out in a tense whisper, his body beginning to go over the same edge as she began pulsing around him again. “Come again for me, mhuirnín. Again.”

  She shook her head, as if protesting the possibility, but there was no way he’d let her miss out on one second of this moment together. He thrust one final time, as deep as possible, and she fell apart around him. Spasms rocked his body until they both sank into the mattress, curled around one another.

  “Luckiest. Girl. Alive,” Clare said with a contented sigh.

  He loved when she said that. “Tabhair póg dom, cailín t-ádh.”

  Give me a kiss, lucky girl.

  Chapter 3

  "I can't do this." Clare paced back and forth across the long, gray hallway, her hands clenched into tightly wound fists. The California prison was all steel, concrete, and glass—higher tech than he'd expected, but they'd never expected Creighton to make it back to California.

  Rory had asked his father, Seamus Kavanagh, to look into how Creighton had managed to transfer his sentence from New York to California, and while they still weren’t entirely sure, it looked like some strategic bribes placed in the right hands had done the trick.

  All he could hope was no one on the Parole Commission could be swayed by cash or blackmail. Seamus had assured him that there were no unusual transactions found in the hearing examiner's records, so they had to hope for the best. Rory’s family’s methods were rarely entirely legal, as his father’s background in the Irish mafia could attest to, but their intent was always for the greater good.

  Well, mostly.

  Clare ran her hands down the sides of her skirt, straightening it. He wanted to be able to say something, anything, that might make her feel better. The nervous energy was pouring off of her, and despite his best attempts to distract her over the last week, he knew she wouldn’t feel better until this was all over and Creighton was still behind bars. “I’ll be right here the entire time.”

  She barely seemed to hear him, nodding her head. “I know. I know. I just…he can’t get out, Rory. He can’t. You don’t understand what life was like—knowing he could show up at any moment to drag me home. Knowing I could run but he’d find me. Who I was when I was with him…I don’t even recognize her now.”

  “You’re not that person anymore.” Rory steered her toward him, wrapping his arms around her back. “You’re one of the bravest, smartest, kindest people I know.” Her gaze didn’t seem to find his. She was far away, haunted. He took her hands, kissing the inside of her wrist gently. “It’s almost over, Clare.”

  Finally, she nodded. “Soon.”

  “Soon.” Hell, it better be over soon. Five years behind bars wasn’t nearly enough for the asshole who stabbed both his wife and his dog. Not to mention the laundry list of other crimes that had been tacked on from money laundering to drugs.

  Even if Creighton was released, there was zero chance he’d let him anywhere near Clare, his family, or even New York. If he had to hire an around-the-clock investigator to track Creighton’s every move, he would. He would do whatever Clare needed to feel safe again.

  That was his priority.

  “Ms. Ivers?” A tall, thin man in a suit stepped into the hallway from a side room and smiled at them.

  Clare’s head popped up. “Yes. Though, it’s Mrs. Kavanagh now.”

  “My apologies.” He extended a hand to her, and then Rory. “I’m Seth Chan, but you’re welcome to just call me Seth. I’ll be taking you back to the hearing room. If you both would like to follow me.” He pointed down the hall and began walking.

  They kept pace a few feet behind him as he guided them through several locked doors requiring them to show badges to a camera before being buzzed through.

  “So, when the hearing examiner begins, he’ll talk to the offender for a few minutes. They will have a chance to explain why they believe they should be released, and then their case manager will probably say a few words in their defense as well. You’ll then be given a chance to give your statement. The examiner will already have the written recommendations from the judge, district attorney, and defense attorney that they’ll use to make their decision. The decision will be made today, but it’ll still have to pass through another examiner to be considered official which can take about three weeks.”

  “Three weeks?” Clare spoke up. “I won’t know for certain for three whole weeks?”

  “It’s very rare that the second examiner reverses the decision, but, technically, yes.”

  Rory squeezed her hand, a small sign of assurance as they were ushered into a small room that looked like a less official, smaller court room. An older man with a balding head of white hair sat at a large table in the front of the room, s
everal small stacks of paper spread out in front of him. Professionally dressed in an expensive suit, he looked out of place in the dim, gray settings of the prison.

  “You’re welcome to sit anywhere on this side.” Seth pointed to the folding chairs on the right side of the room. “The examiner will ask you to stand when it’s your turn to give a statement.”

  Rory nodded at Seth. “Thank you.”

  “Of course. I’ll be out in the hall and will escort you back to the exit when you’re ready.”

  “Thank you, Seth,” Clare said, then headed to the front row of the folding chairs to take her seat.

  Rory joined her, glancing around at the mostly empty room. There were a few people in the back row who looked like they weren't necessarily connected to this case but rather worked at the prison. A man with slicked-back hair and a dark suit sat on the opposite side of the room, examining a file in his hands. He couldn’t be sure, but Rory suspected him to be Creighton’s case manager.

  “Are we early?” Clare leaned toward him, whispering.

  Rory glanced at his watch. “Barely. Two minutes.”

  She nodded, thrumming her fingers against her knees. Another minute passed before the door they’d enter through opened again. Clare went still, not turning her head, and her jaw tightened.

  Rory slid his hand over her knee, covering one of her hands with his. She gave him a small smile, squeezing his hand. A guard walked past them, escorting Travis Creighton to the other side of the room. Dressed in a collared shirt and slacks, Travis looked heavier than before and his head was shaved, a tattoo across his neck that Rory didn’t remember seeing before.

  Travis grinned back at them after he’d taken a seat, but Clare didn’t turn her head. She stared straight ahead at the examiner, a fire in her eyes he’d been waiting for. She sat up a little straighter, set her jaw tight, and the fear he’d seen all day was replaced with anger. Power emanated from her just by her presence, and he’d never been so goddamn proud.