Page 32 of Undisputed Player
I exited the SUV, the rancid smell of urban decay flooding my senses—exhaust fumes and rotting garbage. Nothing like the world I lived in.
It was quiet now, the usual cacophony of sirens and shouting dulled to a murmur, but I could feel the danger lurking in every shadow.
How many times had she walked these streets alone? How many times had she hurried past these corners with her heart hammering and pepper spray ready?
I moved like a shadow, avoiding the pools of sickly light cast by dying streetlamps, my pulse steady despite the risk. I had enough practice with the party bus to know how to move stealthily.
Obsession wasn't a strong enough word for what burned in my chest for Estelle. This was need, hunger. A primal pull I couldn't name.
The security app buzzed in my hand, a motion alert from her bedroom window. I paused the live feed with a tap and deleted thefootage, moving closer to the side of the building. The curtains were thin, cheap fabric that did nothing to hide the glow of her laptop screen or her movements behind them.
She'd moved to the bed, legs curled beneath her like a tired cat, hair falling in a messy curtain as she squinted at whatever assignment she was grading.
Her brow was furrowed with concentration, lips pressed together, lips that made me want to kiss the tension away. But seeing her here, in her most private space, made my dick hard as granite despite the rage burning through my veins.
She was so fucking stubborn, it was intoxicating. Working herself to exhaustion when she should be resting, pushing through fatigue that would have felled a lesser person.
I could have bought her a mansion. A hundred mansions. Could have filled them with everything she ever wanted, could have given her a life where work was a choice instead of a necessity. But she wouldn't accept it. I knew that already. I could see it in the proud set of her shoulders.
Pride radiated off her like a force field, repelling pity, rejecting charity. It pissed me off and fascinated me in equal measure.
Minutes bled into hours as I watched her fight the losing battle against exhaustion. The laptop's glow dimmed as her eyes fluttered, her head nodding forward before she jerked awake with visible effort. Over and over, the cycle repeated, duty warring with biology, determination battling human limitations.
Each nod of her head was like a knife between my ribs. I wanted to fix everything that was broken in her world and replace it with something worthy of her strength.
Finally, she closed the laptop. The room plunged into darkness, and I held my breath as her silhouette moved through the familiar routine. Checking locks, peering through the peephole, and securing a chair under the doorknob. Each motion was practiced, automatic, the paranoid efficiency of someone who'd learned that safety was never guaranteed.
My eyes darkened as she collapsed onto the mattress, springs so worn they probably offered no support at all. She didn't bother undressing, just curled onto her side and fell asleep with the quickness of someone running on empty.
She looked vulnerable in a way she'd never allow awake. All the careful guards were down, replaced by an innocence that made my throat tight with emotion I couldn't name. She was a wounded bird trying to fly with broken wings, still fighting despite the pain.
And I'd be the one to heal those wings. I'd be the one to teach her how to soar.
The vow was absolute and unshakeable.
I hadn't realized I'd moved closer until my palm pressed against the window glass, the grime making me cringe in disgust.
The temptation to break the window and sweep her into my arms was overwhelming. To end this charade of patience and claim what was already mine.
My cock throbbed at the thought, the ache visceral, but it wasn't just lust driving me. It was deeper, a need to claim and possess, a hunger to weave myself into the fabric of her life until she couldn't breathe without me there.
Until she didn't want to.
When the sky began to lighten with the first hints of dawn, I forced myself to step back. My joints protested, stiff from hours of standing vigil, but the discomfort reminded me that this was real. This hunger, this obsession, this overwhelming need to make her mine, all of it was real, and it was changing me.
Back in the shitty surveillance vehicle, I reopened the security feed and set it on the console where I could monitor her while driving. She was still asleep, face pressed into a pillow that looked flat as cardboard, hair spread beneath her.
“Soon, princess,” I murmured, starting the engine and beginning the drive back to my empty mansion that would soon be filled with her laughter, her presence, her love.
Very soon, she’ll never have to be afraid again.
Once she’s mine, I'll never let her go.
CHAPTER SIX
Jax
The engine sputtered to a stop in my climate-controlled garage, its pathetic death rattle echoing off polished concrete.
