Page 182 of By A Thread

“No more garbage gossip. It’s time for dinner.”

“Fine. I just have to do one thing first,” she said, opening her laptop again.

“What?”

“I’m writing that vlogger a strongly worded email and attaching some naked pictures of us,” she said, brown eyes sparkling. “Oh, and we need a celebrity couple name. How do you like the sound of Alominic?”

I sighed. “Eat your pasta, weirdo.”

59

Dominic

The morning of my forty-fifth year on this revolving circus began with my naked girlfriend rolling on top of me and fucking me until I went blind and lost the power of speech. It was, what I considered to be, the best birthday gift I’d ever received to date.

Apparently, Ally was just getting started. She insisted we stop for “birthday tea” on the way into the office. Then gave me an entirely inappropriate birthday kiss just outside the office doors.

I’d actually gone a little weak in the knees when she walked away. Chalking it up to more dehydration, I watched that sexy ass sway in the curve-hugging Dior skirt I’d snuck into her side of the closet.

Gola was waiting outside my office with a smile and a goddamn birthday cupcake. It had an actual candle in it.

I was oddly touched and covered the moment by threatening to fire her if she sang one bar of “Happy Birthday.”

A month or two ago, that threat would have had every woman—and several of the men—in a twenty-foot radius running for cover. Now, Gola laughed and reminded me that I had birthday lunch plans with Ally.

What the hell were birthday lunch plans?

Food truck ramen. That’s what. Maybe it was holding Ally’s hand on the three-block walk. Or maybe it was listening to her talk about the graphics she was designing for a June piece on espadrilles. Maybe it was that nudge of spring I could almost smell on the air. April was coming.

Whatever it was, I felt almost… light.

She squinted up at me. “What’s happening with your face right now?”

It was probably having an allergic reaction to the ramen. I reached up to touch my cheek, and she snickered.

I got the joke.

What was happening with my face was that I was sitting on a low wall with a woman I’d brought to orgasm with my tongue before most people had opened their eyes for the day. A woman who was doing her damndest to make my stupid birthday special.

I, Dominic Russo, was smiling.

That odd facial contortion stayed with me as we walked back to the office. As I brushed a kiss over Ally’s lips, once, twice on the sidewalk in front of the building.

Her hat—a felt, emerald green trench I’d snuck out of a photo shoot for her—made her brown eyes even warmer.

“You’re beautiful.”

Her cheeks pinked up, and I didn’t think it had anything to do with the wind. There was a stirring in my chest. That odd, heartburny glow rose up again. I realized I’d be content to stand right here with Ally Morales looking up at me just like that for the rest of the day. The week. Hell, I’d free up all of April if it meant I could keep feeling like this.

“Dominic.”

God, would there ever be a time when my name on her lips wasn’t a fucking shot of adrenaline?

“Ally.”

“When you look at me like that it makes me dizzy,” she confessed

“Good,” I said. I didn’t want to be the only one off-balance here. This was something… different, almost comforting. Something apart from the lust-fueled obsession I’d gotten used to. I hoped to hell I wasn’t just imagining it.