Page 77 of The Pucking Arrangement

Jesus Christ.

I force my hands to stay at my sides. Force my breath to stay even. Force my body to remember that my daughter is standing between us, blissfully unaware of the war raging inside me.

“Papa!” Ris tugs at my sleeve, spinning in her own dress—deep red, just like Erin’s. “We match!”

Erin finally speaks, her voice smooth, teasing, wrapping around my already frayed control. “Perfectly.”

I’m a dead man walking.

Ris squeals, launching herself at Erin.

Erin catches her, twirling them both, their skirts tangling together. “We really do!” She presses a kiss to Ris’s temple. “You look beautiful, sweet girl.”

I should say something. Acknowledge her dress. Compliment her. But my throat is too tight. And it turns out my little daughter has better game than me,

“Papa?” Ris tugs my sleeve again, yanking me back from the brink. “Doesn’t Erin look pretty?”

I nod like an idiot.

Because pretty doesn’t begin to fucking cover it.

Erin holds my gaze, a slow, knowing smile curling at the edges of her lips. “Ready?”

My fingers flex at my sides, desperate to grab, to feel, to memorize the way that silk clings to her skin. Instead, I reach for her cello case before she can. Something to hold that isn’t her.

“Car’s outside.”

She arches a brow. “Such a gentleman.”

But her voice catches when I step closer, lifting her wrap and draping it over her shoulders.

The fabric is weightless. Barely there. Like my fucking control.

I could so easily let my hands linger. Let my knuckles graze the delicate slope of her bare skin. Feel the warmth that calls to me like a siren.

Instead, I let the brush of my fingers be light. A whisper.

Just enough to make her shiver.

“Cold?” My voice is low, right at her ear.

“No.”

Her gaze lifts to the mirror by the door, locking onto mine.

And fuck. That look?—

It’s hunger and challenge and fear.

A taunt, a promise, and a plea all at once.

“Not cold at all,” she murmurs.

“Papa!” Ris calls from the driveway. “We’re going to be late!”

Erin steps away, but not before I catch the slight tremor in her hands.

Good. Because after that dress?

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