He was forever kissing and hugging the women around him, attracting females of all ages like a moth to a flame, and was equally attentive to all of them as well. He was that guy at a wedding who would dance with the little girl cousins, the old grandmothers as well as the gorgeous singles. She knew it was just his way and that he rarely meant anything by it, but it annoyed the shit out of her just the same.
Over the last couple of months, she’d put off every signal she could think of for him to keep his hands off, but he still touched her every chance he got. He was always stroking her hair, touching her arm, swiping his finger down her nose, hugging her. And it was never just a friendly hug. It was a full frontal assault where he pressed his hard body onto her, always holding her a moment longer than was deemed appropriate. It made her blood boil in more ways than one.
The handful of times she’d been at gatherings with him inevitably led to him being a little too familiar with her, which then led to her putting him in his place the only way she knew how: with a snarky remark or a swift kick to the ass. He seemed to thrive on getting both reactions from her and unfortunately she had a difficult time controlling them around him. It was their dance. so to speak, and at this point they expected it from each other every time they were in the same room together.
About three weeks back, her crew of friends of which he was a part, had gone to the 9th Precinct for Mike to teach the girls some self-defense moves. This was as a result of the unfortunate incident that had happened with her friend Ryann Thornton several weeks prior. Michael had saved Ryann’s life when she’d walked in on a robbery; she’d been shot while encountering an art theft in progress at the Manhattan Institute for Art and Design where she was an instructor. It was Michael who shot and killed the perpetrator.
There in the precinct gym when the group had been ready to start their self-defense instruction, no one but Emily’s cousin Jonathan knew she could already defend herself. She’d been taking and teaching Krav Maga for years. Having only recently moved to Manhattan, she’d only just started to get to know people. When the detective had asked Emily to be his first victim in teaching a move to the group, she’d surprised him with some moves of her own and took him down, flattening the giant of a man on the mat in front of everyone.
That had definitely been a fun night, she chuckled to herself. He’d been flummoxed to say the least, considering their very drastic size difference. But interestingly enough, he hadn’t been angry. Annoyed, she would say. She was surprised that he hadn’t been more pissed, expecting that he would’ve felt weakened or less confident because of her skill.
However, that wasn’t the vibe he’d put off. She remembered his look very well when she’d put him on his back. It turned into one of lust immediately and he looked like he wanted to have a go at her right then and there. When he’d gotten up and no one was listening to their exchange, he’d said in a low voice with a hint of a smile, “It looks like you and I have some unfinished business to conduct, Counselor. You. Me. Rematch.” Before she could reply, he added in a low murmur with his eyes gleaming, “And no audience next time.”
She played it cool even though her insides twisted at the timbre in his voice and before she could really let the idea of being alone with him sink in, she said with a smirk for everyone to hear, “Any time, any day, Detective. Name it and I’ll be there.”
Of course when everyone went out to dinner later on that night it came out that there would indeed be a rematch. Two weeks ago, they had all gone out again to a student art showing at the Institute where Ryann worked and it was there the rematch was set.
When they had bumped into each other at the showing, they had both been with their dates for the evening. Emily had brought her friend Ollie, the IT guy from the firm where she worked. And draped on the detective’s arm that night had been a blonde bombshell whose IQ, she was sure, was no greater than the size of the ‘fuck me’ stilettos on her feet.
And don’t even get me started on the woman’s name. Good grief.
After hugging all of the women hello and taking special care to hold Emily a little longer than she’d been prepared for, the detective had pulled Emily away from Ollie, grabbed her phone and put his number into it, scheduling their date with absolute glee and anticipation.
Not a date. A rematch.
Hence the reason why she was flying down the streets of the Lower East Side to make it to the precinct gym by 11:15am.
She took a deep breath and mentally prepared herself as the taxi slowed in front of the precinct where she paid the cab driver, opened the car door and approached the entrance.
Taking one more cleansing breath, Emily walked into the cop shop and passed the receptionist who directed her toward the back where the detectives’ cubicles were. Instead, she headed for the stairs leading down to the gym.
She was about to reach the stairs to the basement when she heard a yell.
“Counselor.”
She turned.
“You made it.” The warm dark eyes of the detective connected with her own almond shaped brown ones from across the room. She wasn’t wearing her standard smart glasses, she didn’t need them. Her contacts allowed her to notice every detail as Detective Michael Callahan took his feet down off of his desk and unfolded his long muscular frame from his chair.
His thick and slightly long dark hair was windblown and he had a shadow of stubble covering his jaw. Dressed in worn jeans, combat boots and a tight fitting black t-shirt, she could see his arm tattoo peeking from below his sleeve.
She schooled her features and stood where she was, waiting for him to walk toward her with his sensual loose limbed gait. Tensing when he reached her, she anticipated his touch before it happened. Without hesitating, he smiled lazily at her and enfolded her in his arms, rocking her while bending his knees to slightly lift her off the ground with his whole front rubbing intimately against hers.
She could smell his spicy scent. He smelled like the outdoors, warm and clean. She clenched her jaw to stop herself from licking her lips.
He let go of a quiet ‘mmm’ sound, like he’d just had his favorite treat. He made that sound a lot when he was around her.
It made her think of sex.
“I’m glad to see you didn’t chicken out,” he whispered with challenge into her hair then put her down.
Embarrassed at his PDA and completely flustered, she disentangled herself from his arms and cleared her throat. “Please. As if,” she huffed, trying to reestablish some control.
A hint of a smile still played on his lips as he touched her cheek, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
He grabbed her hand and led her back to his desk drawing the attention of his colleagues, one of whom was a husky middle aged black man who was watching her with humor and interest. She tried to extricate her hand from Mike’s, but he held on tight. It was bad enough he just mauled her in front of his male colleagues so she squeezed her hand tightly in his and began to twist his finger.
He looked at her with a pained look and with exasperation he let go of her hand.
“You got beat by this little thing, Cag?” The stocky man looked at her good naturedly and snorted. “Dude, you are seriously out of practice, my friend.” The three other detectives in the bull pen snickered.
It didn’t bother her. Emily was used to the reaction.
“Everyone, this is Miss Emily White. She can kick your ass from here to Tuesday and probably has a higher IQ than all of us combined. So I would suggest being nice to her.”
“He ain’t kiddin’ either!” That comment came from Detective Danny Fernandez, the detective who had also been at the Institute art showing in attendance with Mike’s sister Janie, also a good friend of Emily’s. He’d also been present at the self-defense class from several weeks back. Although he hadn’t witnessed Emily’s take down of Detective Callahan, he’d watched her help lead the class after he’d entered the gym moments later.
The first detective who had spoken walked over with a br
illiant white smile and put out his hand. “Hey Emily,” the older detective said. “I’m Dwight Lacey, Cag’s partner. And let me just say, it is an absolute pleasure and honor to meet the one and only woman who has ever knocked him on his ass. I’ve never met a man more in need of an ass-kicking than him.”
Emily shook the other detective’s hand, smiling back. “I couldn’t agree more. And nice to meet you.”
Detective Lacey chuckled then Mike finished the introductions, “This is Thompson, Miller, and you’ve met Fernandez.”
Emily waved a hello to them and said to Detective Fernandez, “How’s it goin’, Danny?”
“Great. I’ll see you at the barbeque on Monday?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Fernandez, would you shut the fuck up? I don’t need to be reminded that I have to see you on my day off. It’s bad enough I have to see you at work,” Michael mumbled.
“I can’t help it if your sister invited me. She’s got the hots for me, Cag. Most women do, so what can I say?” Fernandez wiggled his eyebrows.
“Fuck you, asshole,” Mike grumbled. Although the art showing had been Janie and Danny’s first date, it seemed that they liked each other well enough to have a second. Emily was still holding out for Luke Daniels to sweep Janie off of her feet. He was a mutual friend of the crew. Emily had nothing against Danny, but he came across as a guy only interested in a good time.
She couldn’t wait for the Labor Day barbeque on Monday. In addition to seeing all of her friends, her aunt and uncle were coming down from Boston to meet Ayanna’s parents for the first time. She hadn’t seen them since her aunt had a heart attack, so she couldn’t wait.
Ayanna Sarin was Ryann’s best friend and another one of Emily’s girlfriends. She was an exotic ball buster of a woman with Indian and Sri Lankan heritage who swore like a sailor, was a chef with a killer bod, and was madly in love with Emily’s cousin, Jonathan. The two had been dating seriously and the fact that both sets of parents were meeting was a pretty big deal.
“Who’s Kag?” She looked at Michael with a raised eyebrow.
“That’s me,” Michael smiled.
“Why Kag?” Emily’s brow furrowed trying to understand the nickname.
“Dwight’s last name is Lacey, so when we became partners ages ago everyone started calling me Cagney.”
Emily smiled and rolled her eyes realizing they were saying Cag, not Kag with a ‘K’. They were referring to the cop show from the 80’s, Cagney and Lacey about two women detectives in New York City. She turned to the other detectives and said, “Well, boys. If you’ll excuse us, Cag here has been begging for me to hand him his ass again, so we have an appointment we need to get to in the basement.”
“Counselor, any time you want to put your hands on my ass feel free,” Mike smirked, purposely rewording her statement and then smacking his lips.
She ignored the warmth his words created and sighed, looking at Lacey. “This man so needs to get hurt.”
“Hurt me, baby. I’m beggin’ you,” Mike continued with his sexually charged banter.
“I wanna watch.” That comment came from Detective Fernandez in the corner and began to move toward them.
“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, asswipe.” Mike turned to Emily. “This is a closed session for two reasons: number one, I don’t want to lose my macho status by crying in front of the girls here, and two, if these girls are down there, they’ll all want a go at you.” He looked her in the eye and dropped his voice. “And I want you all to myself.”
She tried to ignore the throbbing in her loins.
“It was nice to meet you, Emily. Take it easy on him, would ya? I don’t feel like listening to him cry like I had to last time you kicked his ass. Fuckin’ pussy,” Lacey said dryly.
“Lace, you have no idea. She twisted my hand back and nearly broke it. It hurt like a mother fucker.” Mike turned to her with a cute disgruntled look. He actually looked pleased about it, like he seemed to enjoy letting everyone know how much she beat him. Unexpectedly, her ex-boyfriend popped into her head. Mike’s reaction to her was the complete opposite of what Scott’s had always been. Confidence and humor seemed to ooze off of the detective.
She shook herself from her mental musings. “You are a fuckin’ baby,” she said with an eye roll, her accent coming through making it sound like ‘fahckin’. “See ya around, Lacey. Nice to meet you guys,” she said to the rest of them and turned toward the stairwell.
She could hear them chuckling behind her as she walked away.
“I’ll be there in a minute, Counselor. I gotta get changed,” Mike yelled after her. “Maybe you should start warming up,” he said with a hint of smugness to his voice.
Without turning back, she flipped him the bird and kept walking, heading down to the gym.
……
Emily mentally went through the moves that she wanted to use while stretching on the mat in the precinct gym. The detective was big, practically twice her weight, and well over a foot taller than her. She needed to strategize and figure out how to maneuver the man without hurting him too badly.
Although Krav Maga encouraged its students to avoid confrontation, it also encouraged them when necessary to attack, and to attack decisively, to effectively and efficiently neutralize the opponent quickly. As the official tactic for the Israeli army, Krav Maga, a form of street fighting as well as a combination of boxing, judo, and other techniques, taught its students to avoid real violence when possible.
Emily’s problem with the detective was that she felt a sexual form of violence toward him every time he was near. Just as she was looking forward to getting her hands on him, she knew he was looking forward to getting his hands on her as well.
After all, he was unapologetically demonstrative and touchy feely with her, as with all the women she was fast becoming good friends with since she’d moved to New York City at the beginning of the summer. When they all got together to hang out, he was often times the jokester, the life of the party, and an outrageous flirt.
So, her girlfriends? Well, the first was Ryann. The first time Emily had met her was a little over two months earlier when Emily had been staying with Jonathan before she’d found an apartment after moving to Manhattan. Jonathan and Ryann had been friends for years having been teachers together at West Side Academy before Ryann had started instructing at the Institute.
One day, when Emily and Jonathan had walked into the lobby of the apartment complex where Ryann had lived at the time, they’d stumbled upon a situation where Ryann was being interrogated by the detective. It was the first time Mike had met Ryann as well. When Emily had seen her in the lobby, Ryann had been in need of a lawyer. Having a specialty in Education Law, Emily also dabbled in mediation and non-profit law as well. Considering Ryann had been in need of a mediator at the time, Emily had jumped in to help.
With Ryann, the detective was always hugging her mainly because he liked to piss off her boyfriend Jeremy, who also happened to be Mike’s older cousin by a couple of years. Jeremy McCallister was movie poster gorgeous and had perfected that delicate balance of possessiveness and dominance in a non-stalkery way when interacting with the love of his life. Both he and Ryann frankly adored each other and watching the very sweet Ryann keep Jeremy in his place was always worth the price of admission.
Mike also joked with her other girlfriend, Ayanna, who had been fighting men off with a stick since she’d first developed boobs. Although he joked, Emily secretly guessed that he didn’t want to get on Yan’s bad side. She had broken her former boss’s nose when he’d gotten a little too handsy with her once. Not to mention the fact that Emily’s cousin Jonathan was no slouch. After all, he’d grown up in Boston with her and definitely had a scrappy side.
Of course the detective was always flirty with Tiffany. Tiffany Daniels-Hewitt, her twin brother Luke, along with Mike, Jeremy and Janie had all grown up together, so naturally Mike was comfortable with her.
Janie, the last of Emily�
��s good girlfriends, was Mike’s sister and like Ayanna, was also a chef and owned a catering company called The Local Yokel in Manhattan. Both she and Ayanna worked together and although Janie had just started hanging out with Danny, the detective from Mike’s precinct, Emily suspected if Janie could get her claws into Luke, she would.
When they all hung out, there was a lot of laughter, a lot of back slapping, and a lot of yelling. Other than her work colleagues, they were fast becoming her main group of friends.
She grumbled to herself. Ever the lawyer, she realized that she’d just spent the last couple of minutes ruminating and laying out all of the arguments defending Mike’s flirtatious behavior toward her female peers. She sighed. The man just had that effect on her.
She heard the gym door open and turned to watch him walk in wearing gray sweat pants and his black t-shirt. She stood with one final stretch, noticing his bare feet. She’d taken her shoes off as well.
His long strides ate up the distance of the room and when he was finally within a few feet of her on the mat, he had a cocky gleam in his eye and a confident smirk on his mouth.
“I always forget how tiny you are. You’re usually in those fuckin’ killer heels that I keep dreaming about. Wrapped around my ears.”
She ignored his comment and the sexual current that ran through her at his words. She always had on heels. It was the only way her height looked and felt halfway normal instead of extraordinarily short. She couldn’t reach the floor in most chairs if she didn’t wear them. Most of her high heels added a good four or five inches to her petite height and when the shoe had a built in lift it was even better. Whenever she wore flats, which was rare, most people couldn’t believe how small she was.
“Mmm. Do you dream about that, too?” He said while licking his lips when she hadn’t responded.
Yes.
Instead of speaking, she looked drolly at him and kept silent.
“You realize this is the first time we’ve ever been alone together?”
“You were the one who didn’t want an audience.” Her heart was pounding out of her chest.
Revelation: A Contemporary Erotic Romance (Iris Series) Page 2
