Page 41 of Undisputed Player
Then he was on his feet, moving with that lazy, feline grace that made it impossible not to watch him, his presence filling our small kitchen like he was some sort of beautiful natural disaster.
"Let me buy dinner."
He was already pulling out his sleek phone, voice carrying that casual authority of someone accustomed to solving problems with money.
"You've done enough playing nurse. The least I can do is feed you."
Feed us. Like we're his responsibility. Like he cares.
I stared up at him, thrown off balance by the sudden offer. Pride warred with hunger, with the practical knowledge that whatever was in our cupboard couldn't compare to what he was suggesting. But accepting felt like crossing a line I wasn't sure I wanted to cross.
"You don't have to?—"
"Estelle." His tone was soft but carried steel underneath, the kind of voice that expected to be obeyed. "Let me."
He rolled his shoulders then, a movement that made his tank top ride up just enough to reveal golden skin above his jeans. The glimpse of his abs, ridged and perfect, sent heat shooting through me like molten honey.
This man was going to be the death of me.
"What do you two usually eat for dinner?" he asked, studying my face with an intensity that made me feel exposed.
I hesitated, shame warring with the gnawing ache in my belly that had become as familiar as breathing.
"Whatever's in the cupboard?"
He gave me a look that said he didn't buy my deflection for a second, those sharp eyes seeing through every defense I'd constructed. "That's not good enough."
The authority in his voice sent another inappropriate thrillthrough me, and I had to remind myself that this was exactly the kind of man I should run from. The kind who was used to taking control, used to getting what he wanted.
The kind who could destroy my heart without even trying.
He pulled out his phone, already dialing, his fingers moving with the confidence of someone who knew his calls would be answered immediately. "You like steak, Estelle? Or are you more of a seafood girl?"
I blinked, completely thrown off balance. You didn't just order fine dining as takeout on a random Tuesday night. That wasn't how normal people lived. That wasn't howmyworld lived.
"Jax, seriously, you don't have to?—"
He cut me off with a lazy wave that somehow managed to be both commanding and dismissive, making me snap my mouth shut against my own will. The gesture was pure dominance, and my body's response to it was very unwelcome.
Why was that so attractive? Why did every controlling thing make me want to surrender?
"Leo," he called, turning that devastating smile on my nephew, “What do you want, buddy? You can have anything. Steak? Crab? Pasta? Name it."
Leo's eyes went huge, like someone had just offered him the moon served on a silver platter. "Pizza?"
Sweet, innocent Leo, asking for the simplest thing on any menu, while this man could probably buy the entire restaurant.
Jax grinned, ruffling Leo's hair with affection that made my heart clench. "You got it, champ. And for you, princess?”
His gaze pinned me, expectant and patient, like he had all the time in the world to wait for my answer. The weight of his attention was almost physical, making me squirm in my chair like a butterfly under a microscope.
I swallowed hard, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. I wasn't sure what to say, wasn't sure how to navigate this offer without drowning in the implications.
I’d never had food like what he was suggesting. Never even allowed myself to want it.
He was reading every micro-expression like I was a puzzle he was determined to solve.
Then something softer entered his blue gaze, as if he could see the war between pride and hunger playing out across my face. When he spoke again, his voice carried a protective edge.
