Revelation: A Contemporary Erotic Romance (Iris Series) (2 page)

Why don’t you tell me how you really feel, prick?

She swallowed down the pain and asked dryly, “Do you feel better now?”

“And you know what else?” He laughed mockingly, “You might have all the right parts, but you don’t know how to work ’em, honey.  You’re like a fachkin’ robot where it really counts, Emily.  Not a real woman.  Just a machine.”  He took a step toward her, enjoying this entirely too much.  “You’re so not worth it.”  He leered at her.  “There are quite a few girls out there wantin’ a good fahck.  And don’t think for a second I didn’t find them to take care of me these last few weeks.  You’re nothing but a cold fish,” he muttered with disgust and turned away.

Wow.
  At first she just sat there in a state of shock at the vitriol of his words.  He’d always been a little dickish, but nothing like this. 
Time to take back your dignity, Emily.
  She got up and fought down the betrayal and emotion that were so close to the surface. 
Control, Emily. Stay in control.

“And do
you
know what, Scott?  I’ve never during this whole year and a half disrespected you.  Maybe you weren’t happy with the sex because you didn’t know how to use your dick properly, asshole.  You think I’m not worth it?  You admit to me that you fuck around and then tell me
I’m
not worth it?  Fuck you, Scott.  You’re nothing but an adolescent.  You wanna end it?  Fine, it is so ended.  I wouldn’t let you touch me again if you were the last man on earth, but the least you can do is man up and take a little responsibility for yourself rather than blaming this whole shit storm of a relationship on me.  You can’t do that though, can you?  That would require you to give up being the victim.  And you’re just so good at playing that role.” 

Oh well.  So much for control.  The fucking asshole cheated on her?  She was so glad she followed her gut and hadn’t had sex with him for the last couple of months.  It wasn’t like she found pleasure in it anyway.

“There are plenty of girls out there who think I use my dick just fine, Em, so fahck
you
,” he fumed.  With finality, he turned and slammed out of her apartment.

The echo of the door reverberated throughout the room and the silence settled around her.  A moment passed.  Then another.  She fell back onto the sofa.

She shook her head.  No.  Do. Not. Cry.  He’s not worth it, so suck it down. 

The asshole cheated on her and he’s pissed at
her
?  Asshole, dickwad, shithead…

She wasn’t cut out for this relationship thing.  High school should have taught her that.  Not if it meant that the only men out there were worthless cheating fuckheads like him.  Where were the men who were like her father, her uncle, her cousins? 

Cold fish
.  The voice whispered in her head. 

She shook her head again. 
No.
 

She wasn’t cold, she huffed.  She just hadn’t trusted Scott.  And if she had held back at all, it was only because she had never truly respected him.  The men in her age bracket didn’t give her much hope for the future.

She continued to take slow calming breaths.  It was time to enjoy life as a single woman again.  She didn’t want a man, anyway.  Law school, work and her teaching schedule at the Krav Maga studio would keep her busy. 

She sat and stared at the wall as the moments ticked by.  That was all she needed.

Present Day

In the midst of the unusual dry heat of this last day of August, Emily White rode in the back of the cab with the car windows down.  Whether it was dry, or more likely humid and sticky, she didn’t care.  She welcomed the heat as she was notoriously chilly most of the time.  The cabbie’s radio was playing NPR while the car rushed through the streets, taking her to the 9
th
Precinct located on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. 

The sunny and warm Friday before Labor Day had been anticipated by her with great angst and relish for two weeks.  Her mop of dirty blonde hair was secured in a messy top knot on her head as she continued her journey toward the entrance of the police station located on East 5
th
Street.  Thankfully she was dressed in a sports bra, tank top, and Yoga pants, so she wasn’t overheating. 

Not yet, anyway.

She glanced at her watch while trying to control the adrenaline coursing through her veins, but she couldn’t quite get a rein on it.  Whenever she knew she’d see Detective Michael Callahan her nerves always got the best of her.  Not to mention her hormones.

She grumbled to herself, hoping her encounter with him would only last an hour since she had a one o’clock appointment at West Side Academy later that afternoon and was already taking a long break in the middle of her work day.

Over the years, she’d worked hard at keeping her emotions in check.  There was no question she was a strong woman.  She had to have thick skin with her choice of careers.  Being a woman in the predominantly male occupation of law forced her to be tough.  Growing up in Boston contributed to that trait as well.  But when you added in her practice with Krav Maga, she was a powerhouse.  Most of the men she’d met were not as strong as she was, emotionally or physically.  She was no needy female and the strength she projected slowed down the process of finding a man.       

That, and because you suck in bed.
  Emily shook the thought from her head.

Maybe she didn’t care about finding a man.

Yes, you do.

She stopped her mental argument and sighed.  Ever since she’d met the detective back in the beginning of June, he’d been the bane of her existence.  Thankfully she didn’t have to see him often.  But when she did have to see him?  Dear Lord.  Being around him gave new meaning
to the phrase ‘hot and bothered’.  Because when she was around him, she was definitely hot and she was definitely bothered. 

He knew she was bothered, but she was fairly certain he didn’t know about the hot part.  And as far as she was concerned she wanted to keep it that way.  His head was already big enough. 

She hated to admit it but when she was around the man, she felt a feminine power she hadn’t felt in years.  Maybe ever.  When he was near, all she wanted to do was get her hands on him.  And if the only way she’d allow herself to do that was by kicking his ass, she’d take it. 

There was an undeniable chemistry between them, even though she knew she was just another pretty face to him.  The detective had made no secret that he found her attractive.  He told her so with his eyes and words every time he saw her.  He was looking for a good time girl to have a tussle with and he would be woefully disappointed if he was depending on Emily for that. 

She was
so
not going there.  She was certain that was all there was on his part and given his reputation, she knew that was all there’d ever be.  Which was fine by her.  She steered clear of that mess and was perfectly content in being alone.

I am content in being alone.  I am. 

Besides, he’d be bored to tears with you in the bedroom.

She pushed away the ever present thought.  Again.

He absolutely was not her type.  She wasn’t quite sure which men were.  Her last physical relationship had been with Scott from three years earlier, and before that there had only been non-sexual dates in college and her short lived blip on the radar with the guy she dated in high school.  Was she supposed to count them even though she hadn’t had sex with any of them? 

She didn’t have time for relationships.  She was too busy with her law career, her Krav Maga, and her volunteer work.  She knew she looked good enough to snag a man with her heels and killer wardrobe that showed off her compact curvy figure.  Simply put, it was her strength that usually pushed men away.  But if big strong detective man wanted a rematch, she’d give him one.  And she looked forward to wiping the floor with him if for no other reason than to knock him down a peg or two.  Literally and figuratively.

Well, and to get her hands on him.  Because let’s face it, he was a gorgeous man, asshole that he was.  His tall frame put him easily thirteen or fourteen inches over her very petite stature of 5’1” and his thick dark brown hair and mischievous dark eyes gave him the charm of Robert Downey Jr. with even more sex appeal. 

But it was his personality that drove her bonkers.

He was a playboy, pure and simple.  Cocky and arrogant.  All charm and good humor.  Always laughing, flirting,
touching
.  How he was able to keep his sparkling personality so optimistic while being a detective in the ‘Fighting Ninth’, she’d never know.
Although he had the flirtiness down like her ex, he didn’t have the mean spiritedness and bad attitude.  He was always happy.

He was forever kissing an
d 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 9
th
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.