Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
KEELEY
The candle flickers beside my bath and I sink down beneath the water, moaning internally, the magnesium salts working their magic.
Thank God for the little joys in life. Like water. In my own damn apartment.
It may have only taken a few days to fix the “little” water issue in my building, but for the last four days, we’ve been advised to keep our usage to a minimum until they can be sure it’s not going to happen again.
And rule number one was no baths.
I’m a rule follower by nature so…easy. Right?
Wrong.
I’ve never been a regular bath girl, but it turns out, if you make something off-limits, I’m like a dog with a bone—obsessed. It’s been on my mind twenty-four seven.
Not only did I call my building manager on a daily basis for an update, I also walked past my bathroom longingly and contemplated breaking the rules, just once, or filling it halfway.
Sometimes, I closed the door, hoping for an out of sight, out of mind scenario, or told myself that I didn’t need it, trying to remember that I don’t even like baths that much.
Nothing worked.
I’ve been unhinged, dreaming about this moment. Right up until fifteen minutes ago when I received the email informing me we were all clear. A giddiness ran through me, and I beelined for the bathroom so fast I almost slipped in the hallway.
Then it hit me.
As I turned on the tap, waiting for the relief… it wasn’t the bath I was desperate for.
It was something else even more off-limits.
Sal.
I hadn’t planned on putting myself out there and telling him I wanted more when I walked into his office the morning after he blew my mind. I had planned on keeping my cool, and only checking in.
Until I saw him and that wasn’t an option anymore.
I never expected him to agree.
I assumed my request would fluster him a little, and that he’d give me that stern “Salvatore D’Angelo” look that says, “I’m a billionaire; I don’t have time for your silly little games,” or at least a “Keel-ley.”
What I wasn’t expecting was for him to be agreeable, to ask questions, and go along with my idea to just “see what happens.”
And now I’m the one that’s a mess.
It’s been four days with zero opportunities to see what happens, and I’m so worked up from constantly thinking about it, that I almost gave in and created one.
If I just happened to need him late one night, and we happened to be the only people still in the office…like last time. Or if my car broke down and no one else was available to help me.
Maybe we— God, I’m going crazy. I don’t need Sal. I have my toys and my hand. What I need is to chill the fuck out. Since when did my next orgasm become something I obsessed over, or even thought about for that matter?
I’ve endured a lot to get to where I am today. I can get through this.
If it happens, it happens.
If not, business as usual. Literally.
My mind whirs as I run my loofah over my arm, up and down, lathering my skin from my shoulder to my fingers.
What am I even thinking by proposing anything to Sal? He’s my boss. I wasn’t lying when I said that him being Easton’s father-in-law didn’t bother me, but being my boss should.
Easton and I kept our sibling relationship a secret for years with him worried people would assume I got the job because of him. What would they think if they caught me with Sal? I’d never be able to progress within the Storm franchise without people questioning my true worth.
Hell, I’d probably never be able to progress within any football franchise without someone mentioning our relationship and using it against me.
Our relationship? God, I’m making this out to be so much more than it is.
Focus, Keeley.
You are a strong independent woman. Men do not make you go crazy and overthink things that aren’t even a possibility yet.
I laugh out loud, almost snorting at how ridiculous I’m being. I don’t need a man for anything. I never have. It’s time to remember that.
After taking a deep breath, I bring my mind back to the task at hand, and it’s only when I realize I’ve been washing the same arm for the past few minutes that I remember why I don’t take baths that often—too much time to think.
And nobody needs that.
For the next week, it does in fact revert back to business as usual between Sal and me with work being the only thing we discuss.
If and when I see him. If I was a dreamer, it would have been easy to believe I imagined our moment.
Only I’m not a dreamer; I just got what I asked for. For life to return to normal.
Since we’re in the thick of training camp, I expect to see Sal out and about, watching practice or catching up with the management team. I don’t. He’s MIA, and while I’m generally not a needy person, it makes me wonder if he’s away because of me.
And we can’t have that.
KEELEY: You better be in New York or I’m going to get a complex over you avoiding me
I laugh at my own joke. If he is avoiding me, that’s more on him than it is me.
I put my phone away, assuming that if he is in New York, he’ll be busy. Only it’s less than a minute later that he responds.
SAL: I wouldn’t dream of doing that. I’m on my flight home. D’Angelo Construction needed me.
KEELEY: You’re a busy man, Mr. D’Angelo
SAL: What can I say? I get shit done. Shit that my team can’t seem to manage without me.
KEELEY: You are the boss
SAL: Don’t you forget it.
I smile before pocketing my phone again and watching the end of training, a smile on my face as Easton and Zane chat comfortably on the other side of the field. I’m just about to head to my office when someone loosely covers my eyes from behind.
“Guess who?”
Thomas’s voice is like a song in my ears, and I jump before spinning around to face him. “You’re here!”
“I’m here. Wes called me to come in and meet with him. He wants to talk to me about something. Any idea what?”
I zip my lips because it should come from Wes, but they’re restructuring the coaching staff and there’s an opening for a new quarterback coach. Obviously, Thomas would be perfect for it.
“I know nothing,” I lie, while a giddiness runs through me. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
“Mmm. Okay.”
“Thomas, my man,” Luke calls out the second the whistle blows for the end of the session, jogging over. “Did you forget you retired last season?”
“How could I when you continue to remind me?”
“That’s because you shouldn’t have retired. When are you going to admit that you’re bored?”
“I’m not bored. I’m here to catch up with Wes.” Thomas subtly winces as he speaks, and I can’t stop my smile. He dropped himself right into what’s coming.
“What for? What’s going on? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I think you’re needed on the field, Luke.” I try to help but it’s no use. Luke is not going to give up on this.
“I don’t know anything. I?—”
“Thomas, you made it.” Wes joins us, patting Thomas on the back as he moves past. His gaze shifts to Luke and he frowns. “Shouldn’t you be on the field?”
I snort out a laugh as Thomas chuckles beside me. “I’m on it. But I’m going to find out what’s going on here.” Luke’s brows furrow as his gaze moves between Wes and Thomas. Then with a laugh, he’s gone.
“What was that about?” Wes asks, looking back over his shoulder to see Luke watching them.
“That was Luke being Luke.”
“Okay, then. Are you ready, Thomas?”
“For what exactly?” Thomas raises an eyebrow, and I have to bite my tongue so I don’t blurt it out.
“Come on, let’s go to my office. If I don’t see you before, Keeley, I’ll see you at five.”
“See you, Wes. Have fun, Thomas.” Thomas rolls his eyes and I laugh as they walk away. I couldn’t think of anyone better to join our team. After all, Thomas is still part of the family, and he knows our plays inside and out.
Fingers crossed he agrees.
After catching up with Coach Pierce, the reason I was watching practice, I power walk back to my office in time to take a media call and then I have a moment to breathe. A rare two hours, in fact. Enough time to sneak in a yoga session…if I rush.
I’m always freaking rushing. One day, I’d like to have a slow day, maybe a walk in the morning, outside in the sunshine, followed by a relaxing breakfast and a yoga session before I start work.
One day I’d like to… Ah, who am I kidding?
That sounds like hell. I love the hustle and grind.
It’s who I am. And if I go now, I might actually make it.
“Take a deep breath in. And out. And when you’re ready, open your eyes and slowly sit up.”
My eyes are open before she’s finished speaking, and I’m sitting up ahead of anyone else. My instructor, Adhira, smiles, no longer perturbed by my tendencies to move quickly.
During the session, I’m always in the zone. The second we’re done, however, my mind is back in the office and it’s go time again.
“Thanks for another great session,” I whisper as I stand, rolling up my mat.
Adhira joins her hands at the center of her heart and bows her head slightly as she whispers, “Namaste,” and I tuck my mat under my arm to do the same. “Namaste.”
“See you in a few weeks?” she jokingly questions me.
“I’m hoping to make it back sooner, but you know me.”
“Anything is better than nothing.”
“Exactly.”
I wave goodbye as I walk out into the foyer, heading to the showers, a smile on my face until I’m met with an obnoxious out of order sign.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I grumble under my breath, turning to face the receptionist.
What is it with me and showers lately? Talk about bad luck.
“Do you have other showers?” I ask as politely as I can.
She smiles sympathetically and I wish I hadn’t asked.
I stare her way as she explains what happened, even though I tuned out the second she said no, drifting into planning mode.
I could go home and shower, except that it would be at least a fifty-minute turnaround without including the shower, and I have my meeting with Wes in just under forty minutes.
I could skip the shower—I’ve never been a huge sweater during yoga anyway—but I’m a creature of process and my day won’t be the same if I don’t.
An image of the staff changing room flits to mind, and I internally groan.
Beggars can’t be choosers. It’s that or nothing, and I’ve already established I can’t do nothing.
“That must be so annoying,” I interrupt the receptionist as she continues her rant. “I hope they get it fixed soon so you don’t have to keep explaining yourself.”
She laughs, and I use that as my chance to say goodbye.
I’m blessed by the traffic gods on my way to the stadium, giving me plenty of time to shower and get ready before I meet Wes.
When I get to the changing room, I’m grateful to be alone until I reach the cubicle and a throat clears behind me.
“Keeley,” Sal’s deep voice floats through the air, drawing my gaze to find him dripping with sweat, his towel draped over his shoulders, his chest bare. And my entire body tingles.
I clench my fist, biting back a moan.
How the hell have I never seen his body before?
Taking a step forward like a moth to a flame, I stare in awe as a bead of sweat rolls across his taut skin, dripping between the crevices of his abs, the lucky droplet making it all the way to the waistband of his shorts.
I swallow a lump in my throat as a strangled groan breaks my trance.
“Fuck, Keeley,” Sal growls and I snap out of my ogling.
“Sorry.” I choke on the word, coughing before trying again. “Sorry. You’re back?”
“I am.” His nostrils flare as his gaze drops to my stomach, visible below my sports bra, before darting to my face again, his expression pained. I have no doubt he’s cursing himself for not resisting the urge to look.
“Did you have a good flight?” I ask, pulling him from his head. “I snuck off to yoga while the boss was away. Just going to shower and I’ll be back at it.”
I bounce on my toes and Sal seemingly relaxes.
“Thanks for letting me know.” His lips thin into a suppressed smile and I laugh. “Enjoy.”
“I will. You too.”
You too? The thought of Sal showering beside me has me clenching my legs, and I internally groan for allowing that idea to play out in my head.
With a smile, I shake off my thoughts and step inside, closing the door behind me before I laugh into my hand.
Fuck. That can’t be real. He can’t be real. It’s a figment of my imagination. It has to be. Because the alternative is that Salvatore D’Angelo is ripped like a god.
Closing my eyes, I lift my sports bra over my head, and another image of Sal’s chiseled abs floods my vision. My mouth waters, and I bite my lip as my phone buzzes, snapping me out of my lust-filled daze.
WES: I need an extra thirty mins. I hope that’s okay.
KEELEY: Works for me
I’m going to need that long just to cool the fuck down, and it has nothing to do with my hour-long yoga session and everything to do with the man getting naked in the cubicle beside me.
Basically, I’m fucked.