Page 42 of Undisputed Player
"Pick for me, princess. Steak, salmon, or pasta? I'll order all three if you want to try them."
Princess.
The endearment washed over me again, sweet and warm and completely unexpected. No one had ever called me that before. No one had ever made me feel like I was worth that kind of tenderness.
No one had ever asked me what I wanted just because they wanted to give it to me.
I was so used to taking whatever was cheapest, whatever would stretch the farthest, whatever would leave more for Leo. The idea of picking something just because I wanted it felt foreign, impossible, and terrifyingly wonderful.
"Salmon," I said finally, the word strange and luxurious on my tongue. "I'll try the salmon."
Because salmon sounded like something princesses ate. Because he'd called me princess, and at least while he was here, I wanted to pretend it was true.
Jax's smile was satisfied, like I'd just passed a test I didn't know I was taking. The approval in his eyes sent warmth spiraling through me that had nothing to do with the kitchen's temperature.
"Good girl," he murmured, and my stomachflutteredlike a cage full of butterflies had been set free in my chest.
Good girl.The praise hit me in places I didn't want to acknowledge, sent heat pooling between my thighs that made me shift uncomfortably in my chair. The way he said it, like I'd pleased him, like my choice mattered, made me feel drunk on possibilities I couldn't afford to consider.
He ordered enough food for a feast, his voice smooth authority as he spoke to whoever was on the other end of the line. Salmon, steak, pizza, vegetables, and a bottle of red wine.
"Yes, deliver to the address I texted you. I want it hot. And fast." The command in his voice sent another indecent thrill through me, and I had to press my thighs together to deal with the response my body was having to him.
He hung up and turned back to me, his smile lazy and confident, like he just solved world hunger instead of ordering dinner. "See? You just needed someone to take charge."
I bristled at the implication, even as part of me thrilled at the truth of it. It was strange to let someone else handle things for once, to not be the one making every decision, carrying every burden, solving every crisis.
But that kind of thinking was exactly how Giselle ended up dependent on the man who ultimately destroyed her.
He leaned in—elbows on the table, bringing his scent closer—expensive cologne that made me want to lean into him like a flower turning toward the sun. "You're used to doing everything yourself, aren't you?"
The observation was so accurate, so perceptive, cutting through my defenses like they were made of tissue paper. I stiffened, refusing to meet those knowing blue eyes. "Someone has to."
Because if I didn't, who would? If I didn't take care of Leo, if I didn't pay the bills, if I didn't fight the custody battle, who else would?
He reached out, his fingers brushing mine, the contact sending tingles up my arm. "Not tonight," he said, his voice soft but firm, carrying a promise that made my heart race. "Tonight, you let me take care of you. Both of you."
A shiver went down my spine. No one had ever said that to me before. No one had ever meant it. I was used to being the caretaker, the responsible one, the person everyone else leaned on.
The idea of having someone strong enough to take care of me was intoxicating and absolutely impossible.
But looking into those blue eyes, feeling the warmth of his fingers against mine, I wanted to believe it was possible. I wanted to pretend, just for tonight, that I was the kind of woman who deserved to be taken care of.
The kind of woman a man like Jax Easton might actually want to keep.
CHAPTER NINE
Estelle
The knock at the door came just as I was trying to convince myself this was all a fever dream. Jax unfolded from his chair with liquid grace. The fabric of his tank top stretched taut across his broad back as he rose, and I watched the play of muscle beneath golden skin, long, lean lines that rippled and shifted.
"I can get it,” I said quickly, already rising from my chair. Because this is my apartment, my responsibility.
A large, warm hand landed on top of my head, fingers threading gently through my hair with surprising tenderness, before applying just enough pressure to guide me back down into my seat.
The gesture was so unexpected, so casually dominant, that I found myself sinking back into the chair, thoughts completely frozen.
"Stay," he ordered, his voice pitched low and commanding, eyes holding mine with an intensity that made my pulse stutter. "Let me."
