Page 189 of By A Thread

I bounced on my knees, full of adrenaline. “Where are we going?”

“Stop asking questions. Stop jiggling,” he said to my breasts. “And start packing.”

My breasts and I quit jiggling and started packing. “Pack warm” was the only hint he gave me. On the other side of the bed, Dominic exchanged fashion-forward suits for warmer, cozier items. The sexy eye banging we were giving each other made me hope our destination involved a short ride and a very big bed.

Between it being somewhere around zero o’clock in the morning and the fact that I hadn’t had this man’s penis inside my body in five days, I was probably packing completely useless garbage. But I didn’t care. I was spending an entire weekend away with the man I l—iked.Liked.

Packed, zipped, and still eye banging, we hauled our bags downstairs, and Dom went to work packing Brownie’s food and treats that—God forbid—we didn’t give him at precisely 7 p.m. every night.

“Can you grab the book I left in the den?” he asked me.

I should have been suspicious. His tone was a little too casual, and when was the last time he’d read in the den? It was usually on the couch while I pinned home improvement projects to my Dad’s House board.

But I wasn’t thinking about any of that when I practically skipped into the small front room.

“Oh my God.” I stopped in my tracks. Brownie dashed into the room in front of me, nose to the ground, checking out the new smells. The couch and chair were missing. And in their place was a stunning, brand-new upright piano.

“Dom?”

His hands came to my shoulders. His chin to the top of my head.

“I know it’s not your dad’s,” he said while my mouth continued to open and close like a guppy. “The guy I brought out to the house took one look at that one and said it couldn’t be saved. But this model is supposed to be good.”

Oh, boy. The piano was blurring in front of me. Everything was blurring in front of me. Nope. No. No. No. I was not a cryer. I was a silent sufferer.

“Do you like it?” he asked softly.

The man bought me a piano. A very shiny, expensive piano. Just because I had good memories of my dad’s.

I nodded very slowly. “How did you get it in here?”

I heard the smile in his voice. “You and Brownie can sleep through anything apparently. Including early morning piano deliveries.”

My heart physically hurt with happiness.

I turned away from the piano and into Dom’s arms.

“I love… it. I love it.”

He cupped my face and kissed me so gently it made me go a little weak in the knees.

“I missed you this week,” he whispered.

“Good,” I said.

62

Ally

The cabin or chalet or whatever wealthy people called their mountain getaways was tucked halfway up a ski slope in snowy Connecticut.

Smoke puffed cheerfully through a stone chimney. Dark green cedar shakes and caramel-toned wood accents gave the exterior a luxury gingerbread vibe.

“Do you ski?” Dom asked, turning off the engine and reaching for my hand.

Sheepishly, I shook my head. “Never been.” Even living in Colorado, I’d never actually gotten out on a ski slope. Mostly because I was more of a spiked hot chocolate and fuzzy socks by the fire kind of gal and less of a “Hey, let’s hurl ourselves down the side of a cliff on slippery toothpicks” one.

“Good,” he said, brushing a kiss over my knuckles. “Then we can spend the whole weekend in front of the fire.”