by PE Kavanagh
There are always so many to thank…
The intrepid readers undaunted by the story in its clunky, messy beginnings and who helped me excavate the most gleaming story I could write. Special thanks to my beloved Scribophile groups.
My darling, the Latin hottie who tells me how wonderful all my writing is (even when it isn’t) and is always hungry for more.
My girl, who isn’t strictly allowed to read my books, but always has a remarkably helpful opinion to share about human behavior, fonts, and Photoshop.
And you. Of course, you, who chose to come along on the wild adventure with me. We’ve got so much more fun in store for us.
About the Author
I believe that everything we experience exists as a story within us.
My journey as a writer includes the award-winning poem I penned at the ripe old age of seven, decades of hiding and doubt, and then finally… finally!... realizing that art needs to be shared. Storytelling is part of my heritage, even though I denied it for so long. The stories I created - true and imaginary - have saved me numerous times.
My characters come to me, like old friends excited to tell me what's new.
They represent the world I see and the world I want to see.
More than anything, I care about recovery from life’s setbacks… getting back on your feet after life has brought you to your knees… and my characters fight the hard fight for the lives they know are waiting for them.
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I’ve drawn my inspiration from the many flavors of my life experience. Once a sad, shy girl, I’ve also been an MIT-trained engineer, biotech executive, professional dancer, yoga teacher and business owner, school founder, spiritual counselor, entrepreneur, and author.
And I own a magic wand that I’m certain will work one day.
When I’m not typing furiously trying to capture the stories that pour from me, you can find me loving my people to excess, globe-trotting to the next great adventure, and sporting bright red lips as a tango diva. And of course on my digital homes: pekavanagh.com and boldsoulcoaching.com.
Also By
PE Kavanagh
THE PRICE SERIES
The Price of Desire (Book One)
Sex, Money, and the Price of Truth (Book Two)
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FRIENDS & LOVERS SERIES
Collecting Secrets
Coming Home
Claiming Power (Coming Soon)
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Available on Amazon
Excerpt from COMING HOME
Book Two of the Friends & Lovers Series
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A bit of melted cheese oozed out between crisp slices of bread, burning the corner of her mouth. She flicked out her tongue and caught the errant piece of deliciousness. This was a whole body eating experience.
Ramona looked up from the second half of the sandwich, cut into a perfect triangle, crusts removed, to see Lucas’ gaze intent on her. “I’m glad to see that even your grilled cheese sandwiches have improved. Even though they were always amazing.”
He leaned forward, forearms on the expanse of stainless steel worktable. “Thanks. Glad to see my extensive culinary education wasn’t a complete waste of time.”
“No. I think you picked right. All this scrumptious food would have been completely wasted on a bunch of stuffy lawyers.”
“Except those stuffy lawyers are my main customers.”
“Lucky them.” She took one more bite and licked each of her fingers.
He refilled her champagne. “I still can’t believe you’re here, in my kitchen. After all these years.”
“I'm so glad my brother told me to come. He knew I don’t eat airplane food and that I’d be starving. Thanks for staying open so late and cooking me my favorite meal. I didn’t mean to take advantage.”
“Mowgli, I can’t think of any way I’d rather spend this night than feeding you.”
“Speaking of which, can you make me another grilled cheese?”
“But you haven’t even finished this one? And I have a few more things for you to try tonight.”
“It’s for tomorrow. For breakfast.”
“That’s a terrible idea. It’s going to be terrible tomorrow. You can just come back and I’ll make you a fresh one.”
“I'm going to be a bit busy tomorrow.”
He grimaced. “Right. I forgot. Sorry.”
She emptied her glass in one gulp. “No worries.”
Lucas pulled a towel from a hook and wiped along the edge of the cooktop. His broad shoulders shimmied as he worked a particular spot.
Ramona sucked in a breath, trying not to linger too long on his hunk of a body. “It feels like no time has passed. Like we’re kids again.”
He turned back to her with a smile. “Except that instead of being noon, it’s midnight.”
“And we’re in your phenomenal restaurant, instead of my mom’s kitchen.”
He looked down and swiped a crumb from the counter. “And I’ve learned how to clean up after myself.”
“Looks like you’ve learned a lot of things. Including how to grow facial hair.”
He stroked his close cropped goatee. “Yeah, I’ve had that one down for some time now. Speaking of growing things, I see all those prayers for boobs finally paid off.”
Ramona’s mouth opened with a dramatic gasp. “That is completely inappropriate!”
“Oh, come on, Mo. I was the first one to ever touch them, if you remember.”
“There was nothing there to touch.”
“Oh, there was plenty. Trust me. it was the highlight of my boyhood. Maybe of my entire life.”
“I would have hoped you’d made some more substantial memories than my non-existent teenage boobs.”
“I appreciate your confidence in me, but you seriously underestimate how great they were. Small, but perfect.”
She shook her head and laughed.
“Uh… not small anymore.”
“Okay, you seriously have to stop talking about my breasts. You’re acting like you’re fifteen again.”
“I feel fifteen again, with you here.”
“It’s great to see you, Ballou. Really great. And I would love if you could get on with making whatever else you intend to feed me. I'm still hungry.”
He smiled. “Glad to see the bossiness hasn’t changed.”
Tomato salad and bright green dumplings got her closer to satisfaction, but not completely.
“Okay, Mo, I’ve got one more thing.”
“Great. I need to use the loo, though.”
“Use the one in my office, and I’ll bring the final course in there.”
“Sounds great.”
She arrived in the small room, glass-walled on one side to give him a panoramic view of the kitchen, and walked in a slow circle. A small bookcase held ancient-looking cookbooks, and an entire wall, behind the desk, was graced with framed diplomas, certificates, and letters. She pushed the desk chair aside to examine his awards.
It was impressive. Accolades from two different culinary schools and specialty programs around the world. The articles about his first restaurant, and now this newer one. The award for being named a top young chef three years in a row, and pictures with two presidents. He walked in as she examined the row of five framed letters clearly different than all the rest. They were handwritten and adorned with pencil and crayon drawings. They were all addressed to Mr. Chef Luc.
She turned to see him put down a large tray on the bench against the back wall. He had brought another bottle, likely champagne, as well as several plates with desserts that looked like pieces of art.
She walked up to the assortment, but hesitated in picking anything up. “Holy shit, Ballou. Is that all for me?”
“For us.” He poured a flute of champagne, which made her wonder what had happened to her previous glass. “Start with this.”
“Spectacular.”
“And now this.” He put something the color of mocha into her mouth.
&n
bsp; She walked back over to the desk, allowing the silky chocolate to fill her mouth. “That’s a pretty impressive wall over there. Much moreso than a silly law degree.”
“Says the woman who actually finished law school. And passed the bar.”
“Not that I'm practicing law, either.”
He swept the hair that had fallen across her forehead over to the side. “You know, I can see that you’ve been getting proper haircuts, Mo, but it still seems to fall over your eyes.”
“Well, it’s fashionable now.”
He kept his palm on her cheek. “I still can’t believe I'm looking at your face. More beautiful than ever.”
His finger grazed her jawline and lifted her chin. The perfect start to a kiss, had they been different people.
Ramona turned around to face the award wall, mostly to compose herself and certain she could not hide how very much she wanted him to kiss her.
She pointed to the hand-written letters. “Tell me about those.”
He moved directly behind her so that his body was pressing into her. She placed her palms on the desktop to steady the nearly imperceptible tremor that was developing in response to the pressure of his body on hers.
He exhaled next to her ear. “Oh, my kids.” A sweet sigh followed.
“They’re from Chisholm elementary, on the southside. A couple of times a year I go over there and do a cooking class, and we talk about healthy food. I love those kids. Sweetest, smartest, most alive people I know. And some of their lives – beyond disastrous. And yet, they are amazing.”
He kissed the top of her shoulder.
“Looks like they love you back, Mr. Chef Luc.”
In an unprecedented display of boldness, she took his arm and wrapped it around herself. His palm landed on her belly, and she slowly slid it up, over her ribs and finally grazing over her left breast, where she kept it.
When his fingers squeezed softly, a scratchy breath escaped. She placed her palms back on the desk and used the leverage to press back into him, eliminating any space between their bodies.
His hand moved up to her throat, then down again, this time inside the deep opening of her dress. He cupped her breast while the other hand slid down her outer thigh, over her skirt, then back up underneath it. She stepped her legs further apart.
“Ramona…” His fingers slid beneath the front of her thong.
Before she registered that his hand was between her legs, both of his hands flipped her skirt up and pulled her thong down, returning to graze her wetness.
She reached behind her to find the bulge beneath his zipper. Even through his pants, it was evident he was rock hard. She clumsily tried to singlehandedly undo his belt buckle while drowning in the sensation of the finger that had just entered her.
He completed the task of removing his pants, which she could only confirm by the metallic clink of his belt hitting the floor, and then the feel of his cock where his finger had been. She had not touched him, had not even seen him, but knew there was something significant between his legs. She willed herself to relax, to let him enter her, even as her entire body wanted to contract with the craving for him.
He pushed inside her in successive strokes, each time Ramona believing that he had fully entered. She thought she might burst with the fullness of him, and that would be a perfectly acceptable way to go.
And then he stopped. “I need to see you.”
He pulled out of her and spun her toward him, immediately catching her mouth in a fierce embrace and preventing her from catching a glimpse of his cock before it disappeared between her legs again. She perched her bottom on the edge of the desk and opened herself for him. He entered her in a graceful stroke. The wetness dripping from her and having coated him gave him ample lubrication to plunge into her.
She grabbed his face and kept his mouth on hers while he wrapped his arm around her back and kept her from falling back. With each stroke she groaned louder and grew closer until that familiar build up in the deepest part of her belly. The need for a breath pulled her away from his lips and brought her face down to the top of his shoulder, which she bit in matching intensity to the orgasm that cascaded over her.
He slowed as she did.
“Don’t stop. Please.”
“I'm going to-”
“Yes.” Her hands moved to his buttocks and pressed him deeper. His hand slapped the wall when a growl escaped his throat. Each pulse of his orgasm sent a jolt up her spine and she held on for dear life.
“Holy shit.” His body continued shaking as she took his face in her hands again. She ran her tongue along the thick edge of his lower lip and then stuck it in between. The ferocity of their desire had given way to something much more tender and intimate. They kissed like that, as they might have as teenagers, until the cold desk created a shiver up her spine.
She pulled away to catch her breath. He loosened the grasp around her waist and gently pulled out.
“Ramona…”
There was nothing she could possibly say.
He stared into her eyes. “Are you okay?”
His semen ran down the inside of her leg. “Yes. Of course.”
She wanted to get to the bathroom but each move sent another trail of cum farther down, now into her shoes. But he didn’t let go.
She gave him one more kiss before moving him gently away.
He helped smooth her dress after he had put his underwear and pants back on. “I now have one less item on my bucket list.”
“Fucking someone on your desk?”
“No. Being with you.”
“Having sex with me was on your bucket list?”
“Since I was eleven.”
“Wow.” Her teenage mind had had no idea.
“That’s not really how I imagined it, though. A bit less fast and furious, maybe.”
“I need to go clean up. I’ll be right back.”
She stood in the bathroom for longer than was necessary to clean up what they had created. She had just fucked her childhood friend. The boy she thought she’d always love but hadn’t seen in fifteen years. She threw cold water on her face. She’d gotten through some sticky situations before, but this was a whole different type of challenge.
“Let me take you home, Mowgli.”
“Sure, thanks.”
They sat silently during the car ride across town. She hoped her father had kept the door unlocked, as she had requested.
He took her hand after parking the car in her father’s driveway. “I know this is awkward, Mo. But it doesn’t have to be. It’s still just me… Ballou.”
“That’s what makes it awkward.” She reached over and gave him a small kiss. “Good night, Lucas.”
“See you tomorrow.”
The deep smile on his remarkable face was nearly enough to hold down her rising dread about the day that would begin in only a few more hours. “Yes. See you tomorrow.”
Find out what happens next.
COMING HOME is available here.
