Page 126 of By A Thread

Inhibitions lowered, tongues loosened, and shit went down.

I wanted to be out of here before that part happened. I’d rubbed my awesomeness in Dominic’s face, and now it was time to go the hell home and eat some leftovers in bed.

Fifteen more minutes and I could slip out of here and fall asleep looking impossibly glamorous on the subway.

I limped toward one of the cubes with my water, wondering how the hell I was going to make it to the nearest subway station in these shoes. I didn’t quite make it.

A set of keys dangled in front of my face so close they bounced off my nose.

A hard listing Dominic was attached to them. He had both of our coats draped over one shoulder.

“Are you playing Oprah? Did I win a car?” I asked warily.

“You won the honor of driving me home.” He was tilting his head, making his grin lopsided. “You’re so pretty, Malef, uh… malcifa… Ally. Is your real name Ally, or are you Allison?”

Oh, boy. I’d heard rumors of Drunk Dominic. But they hadn’t prepared me for the reality of him. He was adorable… and in no way capable of functioning as creative director right now. I needed to get him home.

“Let’s go, boss,” I said, snatching the keys from his hand.

“Yay!” he said goofily. His smile was so sweet it made my teeth hurt.

Oh, no. Nope. Nope. Nope. Not happening. I was not going to fall for sweet, drunk Dom. No! I would remain steadfast in my resolve and other fancy words.

“Come on, big guy,” I said, guiding him away from the party and toward the side entrance.

It was hell-froze-over cold outside, and Drunk Dominic insisted on wearing my coat draped over his shoulders because “It smells nice.” So once again, I shoved my arms through his wool trench and towed the man toward the parking garage. At least this time I was wearing more than pasties and a thong under it.

“Why didn’t you use a driver?” I asked.

“Firstly, Nelson is at a science fair tonight for his granddaughter. And third, if I did, you wouldn’t be going home with me,” he said, throwing a heavy arm over my shoulder and nuzzling into my ear.

“I’m driving you home, not going home with you,” I corrected.

The keys belonged to the Range Rover, and thanks to the “beep boop” of the remote—which Dominic helpfully recreated a dozen times—I found the SUV on the second level.

I opened the passenger door for him since he seemed incapable. But he didn’t get in. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me.

“What are you doing?” My words were muffled against his chest.

He stroked a big hand through my hair a little harder than he probably intended. His fingers snagged clumsily on bobby pins. “Hugging you.”

“I can see that. Why?”

“I’ve always wanted to,” he confessed.

My heart melted like full fat, salted butter. Drunk Dom was Tell All the Truth Dom.Oh, this drive was going to be fun.

I weighed my options but finally gave in and wrapped my arms around his waist. He rested his face on the top of my head. “This is really nice,” he slurred happily.

Dammit. It was.

He was transferring more and more of his weight onto me until I was the only thing holding up his two hundred and twenty-some muscled pounds. “Okay, buddy. Let’s get you in the car.”

“I’m not Buddy. Buddy is Buddy,” he insisted. “Dr. Chopra loves Buddy.”

“She does, does she?” I said, guiding him toward the passenger seat.

“Yep.” He nodded forcefully. “She says his wife is doing great.”