Page 46 of Undisputed Player
I made it exactly three steps before I felt him move.
Jax didn't make a sound as he approached, but I sensed him anyway—the way prey senses a predator.
I reached for the dish soap with trembling fingers, hyperaware of him behind me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body like standing near a fire.
I squeezed soap into the warm water, watching it foam and bubble while my heart hammered against my ribs.
Just wash the dishes. Just do what needs to be done. Just?—
His chest pressed against my back. solid and warm, and every thought in my head scattered like dandelion seeds in the wind.
He was so much bigger than me, broad enough that his shoulders bracketed mine completely, tall enough that his chin could rest on the top of my head if he wanted.
He was too close. This was too close.
Large, warm hands settled on either side of my neck, thumbsfinding the hollow at the base of my skull. I went rigid, every muscle in my body locking up like someone had pulled an emergency brake on my nervous system.
“Relax, princess," he breathed, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through his chest and into my spine. “If you want to wash them that badly, I get to do this.”
His fingers found my temples beneath the soft fall of my hair, and the first touch of his fingertips against that tender skin made me gasp audibly. No one had ever touched me like this, especially not a golden god.
He began to massage in slow, deliberate circles, his fingers firm but gentle, working at knots of tension I'd been carrying for so long I'd forgotten they weren't supposed to be there. His hands were warm, so warm, and calloused from boxing, the contrast of rough skin and tender touch making me dizzy.
"You're so tense," he whispered, his breath ghosting across the shell of my ear and sending shivers down my spine. "When did you last relax, Estelle? When did you last let someone take care of you?"
I tried to speak, tried to form words around the emotion clogging my throat, but all that came out was a soft, broken sound that might have been a sob. …Or moan.
His fingers worked deeper, finding pressure points I didn't know existed, unraveling knots that had been twisted tight for years.
This felt too good. This felt like giving up. This felt…
"Shh," he soothed, sensing my internal struggle even though I hadn't spoken. "You don't have to do anything right now except breathe."
His hands slid lower, following the column of my neck, thumbs tracing the tendons. I could feel him everywhere, his chest against my back, his thighs bracketing mine.
I couldn't pull away.
My body had apparently staged a mutiny against my brain, melting back against his solid warmth despite every logical reason to run.
His fingers worked magic on my neck, finding every knot of stressand tension, every place where worry had taken up residence in my muscles.
"That's it.” His voice was pitched so low it was almost subsonic. "Let it go, princess. Let me carry it for a while."
The words nearly broke me.
His fingers traced the sensitive skin at my nape, where wispy hairs had escaped my ponytail, and I couldn't suppress the small sound of pleasure that escaped my lips.
He paused for just a heartbeat, and I heard his breath hitch, felt something shift in the air between us that was electric and dangerous and absolutely intoxicating.
"So beautiful," he whispered, the words barely audible, like a confession. "So fucking beautiful, and you don't even know it."
His hands continued their gentle torture, working their way along my shoulders now, finding tension I'd been carrying like armor. I could feel myself unwinding despite every instinct screaming at me to stay alert, stay ready, stay strong.
Maybe I could be soft for five minutes. Maybe I could let someone else be strong.
The dish soap had long since stopped bubbling, the warm water cooling around the forgotten plates, but I couldn't bring myself to care.
All that existed was this moment—his hands on my skin, his warmth against my back, the steady rhythm of his breathing that was slowly syncing with mine.
