Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
KEELEY
If Sal’s trying to hide his guilt and regret, he’s doing a shitty job of it. While part of my memory is sketchy—like the fact that we freaking danced—I can remember everything that happened after we got to the apartment. Unfortunately.
I should be embarrassed, and for a moment the morning after, I was.
I shamelessly begged him to sleep next to me and he rejected me—again—opting to sleep in the spare room.
Which in hindsight is probably just as comfortable as his master suite, which begs the question. Why didn’t I sleep in the spare room?
That’s where I send my guests whenever I have someone staying over. To the spare room.
It’s strange that he offered me his bed, and yet, I like it. There’s something a little possessive about it.
At least, there would be if it was anyone other than Sal. Knowing him, he was doing it out of some gentleman’s code—the lady shall hath the best bed.
I almost laugh at my own thoughts, picturing him standing at the end of the bed with those words running through his mind, until a memory hits me.
My hand lifts to my head absentmindedly and I cover it up, tucking my hair behind my ear.
Did Sal kiss me?
When he thought I was asleep?
Seconds before I drifted off, I have this faint recollection of him coming back into his bedroom, straightening the comforter that I’d already managed to twist, and pressing a kiss to my forehead.
It’s possible I dreamt it, but when my gaze lifts to his, and his penetrating eyes stare back at me, I don’t think I did. I think it was real.
You do want me, don’t you, Sal?
I was right. And the fact that we danced only makes it more obvious.
He refused point-blank to dance with me at the concert months ago, yet he danced with me at the club. God, I wish I could remember more. I’d love to relive it. To have it in my memory bank to replay over and over. To remember the emotion of the moment. More than anything else, I want to feel it.
Was the energy electric?
Was my heart beating out of my chest?
Was his?
Could he feel the spark that always hovers between us? Sometimes out of reach, sometimes stronger than the pull of gravity.
I have no doubt in my mind anymore…
He wants me.
He just doesn’t want to want me. And he prides himself on his morals. On doing the right thing.
Taking the first step is going to kill him.
Only we can’t deny it anymore.
At least, I can’t.
I’m done.
“You don’t have to answer that.” I let him off the hook from having to tell me what he wants. For the time being anyway.
Sal huffs out a laugh, breaking our stare before pouring me a glass of wine.
I wait quietly as he brings it over, and after taking it from his hand, I walk to his side of the desk and sit down, crossing my legs as I lean back in his chair, my skirt bunching around the slit.
“How is it possible that we have the same chair and yet yours feels so much more comfortable than mine?” I change the subject, needing him to relax a little more before I propose we take things further.
Sal pauses for a second before catching up, a light chuckle escaping him. His eyes drop to the chair until he seemingly realizes that means he’s looking at my legs, and he’s quick to lift his gaze. “My ass groove?” he asks, softly clearing his throat.
“Very funny.”
“Jokes aside. You look good sitting there, Keels. Maybe you should take over after I’ve retired.” He chuckles again, taking a step closer, as though finally loosening up.
“That’s not how your job works, Mr. D’Angelo. I’d have to buy in, and I will never have that kind of money.”
“What if I gave it to you?”
“The money?”
“The team. Paige doesn’t want it, and there’s no way in hell I’m giving it to Marc.”
“Why not?”
“The maturity factor for one.”
“Okay. Even so, you are not giving me a whole-ass football team. Why would you?”
“I have my reasons.” He walks around to my side of the desk and sits on the edge, folding his arms over his chest.
“I’m listening.”
“Reason number one.” He gestures to me, waving his hand from my face to my heels. “You look comfortable. Like you belong here.”
“That’s not a reason to hand over a billion-dollar franchise.”
“Why not?”
Leaning forward, I peel off my heels and lift my feet up onto the desk, relaxing farther into the chair. Sal’s eyes flash to my legs and his throat bobs, his lips parting briefly before he controls his reaction.
“The job is yours. Look at you making yourself at home. You definitely look more comfortable than I do.”
Sal may be talking about comfort, but he’s wound so tight I’m itching to work out his kinks again. Not that he’d let that happen. Not after where it led last time.
Which is a real shame.
I smile at my inner monologue and he smiles back at me, confusing my expression, because while I am definitely more comfortable than he is, this position isn’t as relaxing as I thought it would be. His desk must be higher than mine.
I subtly wriggle, stretching my toes when my calf cramps and Sal notices immediately.
“Are you okay?”
“Of course.”
“My desk is too high, isn’t it?”
“Jesus. It’s like you read my mind.” I giggle to myself or rather at myself and begin to move until Sal lowers himself to his knees and grabs one of my legs, his eyes on the floor as he massages my muscles.
Returning the favor. I stare at his hands, watching as his fingers expertly rub my calf, working the tension until it eases.
It’s so good that I can’t control the moan that escapes me.
“You don’t have to do that,” I whisper on a sigh, my voice holding a plea that he never stops.
Sal chuckles, most likely because he said the same to me last time and I didn’t listen. So why should he do the same?
“You’re always taking care of others. Including me. Let me take care of you.”
“Okay, but once you start something you have to finish it.”
“Keeley,” he warns, making me smile.
“It’s only fair.”
“I’m happy to help. With the massage. If that’s what you’re asking.”
“It’s a start.”
Sal coughs without looking up at me, and I bite back a grin.
“You know I have men lining up for me. I could name three right now that would drop to their knees and crawl to me if I asked.” I’m exaggerating, a little.
If I was into football players, I’m sure I could win over a few rookies.
Hell, I know at least one of them would drop to his knees if any woman showed him her bra. But that woman isn’t me.
If I’m showing anyone my bra, it’s not going to be a boy with no experience. It’s going to be a man who knows his way around a pussy, and I have a feeling that man is Sal.
“I don’t doubt it, Keels.” Sal looks up at me, his smile locked in place while his strained voice gives him away. “Have you ever asked?” His voice lifts at the end and I almost laugh. Is he jealous?
“Maybe.” I shrug noncommittally, and Sal releases a raspy sound from the back of his throat, somewhere between a laugh and a grunt.
“Good.” He recovers, releasing my leg to grab the other, and a beat passes between us.
“You deserve to be worshipped.” His eyes rake over me, traveling from my feet to my eyes, and my heart picks up speed.
God, I want him to touch me. I want his palms to follow the path his eyes just took, gliding along my skin, his thumbs slipping between my legs as he brushes past.
My legs clench just thinking about it, and Sal curses under his breath.
“What are you doing, Keels?”
“Enjoying my massage. What are you doing?”
“Enjoying your massage.”
“What?”
“Jesus. I meant, giving you a massage.”
“Sure you did.” I raise an eyebrow, and Sal huffs before increasing the pressure on my calf, digging his thumb in deeper until I moan again, laying my head back and closing my eyes.
“God, this feels good.”
“Maybe you should spend less time in these heels?”
I should what? My eyes fly open as I lift my head, scowling at him in offense. “Hell, no. My heels are part of my personality. The only time you’ll see me without them is when I’m working out, taking a quick five-minute break, or?—”
“Here?”
Oh, Sal, you walked right into that one. “Having sex.”
“Goddammit. I’m not fucking you on my desk, Keels.”
Sal lets go of my leg, and it naturally falls with my legs spread slightly. I’d normally be quick to be a lady, but when his gaze lowers to my center, I hold back.
“What am I doing?” Sal grates, his expression frantic.
“I don’t know.”
“Then what are you doing?” Sal stands, taking a few steps back as he throws the question my way, and I answer honestly.
“I’m wishing we were back in your apartment.”
“Fuuuck.” He runs a hand through his hair as he turns away, flustered. “Why?”
“Because you didn’t say you wouldn’t fuck me just now. You said you wouldn’t fuck me on your desk. You’re being a gentleman.”
Sal spins back around, his expression pained, a wildfire in his eyes. I open my mouth to apologize until he stalks closer, flattening his palms against the desk as he leans over me. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes.”
He grabs my thigh with his free hand, lifting it to wrap around him. “And this?”
“God, yes.”
He smirks momentarily as though happy he’s affecting me, and I smile back at him until my breath picks up speed and my pulse spikes at having him so close, his eyes so intense.
I’m usually the confident one in a relationship, but right now, he has me at his mercy.
If he told me to beg, I’d be dropping to my knees to plead so fast he’d get whiplash.
“Christ, Keeley. We can’t.”
He doesn’t pull away. On the contrary, his palm squeezes my thigh, and it sets off a chain reaction, ending with a throbbing between my legs.
“Why?” I whimper, no longer able to hide the desperation in my tone.
Sal curses again, and I know I’ve pushed him too far, too soon. But instead of stepping back like I expect him to do, he closes the space between us, his body crowding me in.
“If you don’t want this,” he growls, his deep voice vibrating through me, “I suggest you tell me now.”
Unable to speak, I zip my lips, and Sal laughs incredulously. “I need words, Keeley.”
“I want this.” I look him in the eyes, my stare unwavering as I lift my other leg, wrapping that around him too, the motion putting my white lace panties on full display.
“Fuck, Keeley.” He stares down at the undoubtedly wet material, the fire in his eyes burning out of control. “I want to rip these hot-as-fuck panties from your body. But once I do, there’s no going back for me. At least not tonight.”
“Good. I want you to destroy me, Sal. I want it all. At least for tonight.”
Sal’s gaze lifts to mine, and a moment passes between us, both of us knowing this is going to change everything, yet unable to stop it.
“We should probably set some ground rules,” Sal rasps, his eyes meeting mine as he slowly runs his palms along my thighs, exactly as I pictured it.
“We can talk about that later,” I rush out, my chest heaving as I wriggle in anticipation.
“As you wish.” I barely have time to process his words before he has his hands on my hips, lifting me to sit on his desk the second I wrap my legs around his waist.
I let out a gasp, and he slides me farther back, spreading my legs before he lowers himself to his chair, dragging it closer so his eyes line up with my pussy.
I hold my breath, watching with rapt attention as he lifts my panties away from my skin, ripping the silk with his fingers while leaving the rest intact, turning them into a crotchless pair.
And my body convulses in need. “Oh. My. God.”
“Rule number one,” Sal grates, the tip of his thumb gliding toward my clit. “And this may be my main rule… I want to hear you moan my name, not God’s, when I’m making you scream. I’ve spent far too long thinking about how delicious it would sound. I’m not giving someone else the credit.”
Holy shit. My breath hitches as I nod, until Sal raises a brow, once again expecting an answer, with words. “Yes, Sir. Sal. I can do that.”