Page 69 of Twisted Collide

DANE

Since the dayof my tuxedo fitting, I’ve put as much distance between Josephine and me as possible. The girl is getting under my skin, and it’s dangerous.

She’s everywhere.

A damn temptation begging for me to sin.

She’s too damn close.

The vision in front of me is what I’ve been hoping to avoid, but by some sick twist of fate, I can’t.

I don't allow myself to touch the dangling fruit, despite the way it torments me, and in turn, I’m a grumpy motherfucker.

Oh, who am I kidding? I was always an asshole and have been since my parents died, but this is next level. I’ve had to build walls.

She walks past me to enter the house, and the vision should be illegal from this angle.

Did she change? There is no way she was wearing this the whole day. I would have lost my shit. I wouldn’t have missed this outfit.

I trail my gaze up her body, from her tanned and toned legs past her skirt.

Fuck, an inch of her torso shows beneath her cropped shirt.

Why does she have to be his damn daughter?

I don’t want a relationship, but I’d love to lose myself in her one more time.

Her trimmed waist begs me to reach out and touch her.

This is my own personal hell.

This is bad.

“After you,” I grit out as Sherry gestures to the table.

“Thank you, Dane.” She smirks. It’s mocking, coy. It makes me think that despite all my best efforts, she knows how much I want her and wants to toy with me.

Little minx.

A cough escapes my mouth, and I pull my gaze from her. It lands on her dad, who’s staring at me in an odd manner.

Does he see it too?

I hope not.

Josephine takes the chair on the left, leaving me sitting on the right, closer to Coach.

The sound of me pulling the chair back echoes around, making my descent seem much longer than it actually is.

“I’m so happy you’re both here,” Sherry says as she reaches across the table to grab the bottle of wine. “Wine?”

As if this hasn’t been the norm lately. I’ve felt like it’s back to normal, with the exception of Josephine’s presence.

Josephine says nothing, so I do. “Yes, I’d love some.”

Sherry walks over to where I’m sitting and pours me a glass. “Josie?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

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