Page 84 of Fierce Storm
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 wasreal.
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 tofeelit.
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 justdoesn’twanttowantme. 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?”
