Page 98 of Undisputed Player
My cheeks burned with humiliation and arousal. "You're delusional."
He pressed the gun into my hands, his fingers wrapping around mine on the grip. "Hold it. Feel what real protection looks like."
The weight of it in my palms was fascinating and terrifying. Cold steel, deadly purpose, the power to end lives. My fingers trembled around the grip as dark heat coursed through me.
"There," he said, stepping back with his hands raised mockingly. "Now you're armed. Feel safer in here?” He gestured sarcastically to my definitely not safe apartment.
"Stop patronizing me." But I couldn't put the weapon down. Something about holding it made me feel powerful, a way I only felt when with Jax.
Speaking of only being with Jax…
"You want to talk about safety?" I lifted my chin, fury reigniting in my chest as I recalled the earlier events and his sudden hypocrisy. "What about the danger you put yourself in, threatening Damon’s men with it?”
His expression darkened. "That's different."
"How?" I demanded, my grip tightening on the gun. "How is it different when you risk your life for me, but I can't risk mine?"
"Because I can handle myself."
"And I can't?" The words came out angry, cutting. "You think I'm some helpless little girl who needs a big, strong man to fight her battles?"
He crossed his arms, frowning. “I’m an Easton, princess.AndI think you're stubborn and reckless. That’s going to get you killed." His voice rose slightly at the end before he caught himself, remembering Leo sleeping down the hall.
I gestured with the gun, his eyes tracking the movement with predatory focus. "You pulled this on two men in broad daylight. You threatened them. What if they targeted you? Being an Easton doesn’t mean anything in this neighborhood.”
Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe, that I was thinking about his safety. It almost made me sad that he wouldn’t expect me to.
"That's not your concern." He deflected.
My anger sparked again.
“You think I don't care what happens to you? I would die if someone put a bullet in you because of me.”
The admission was raw and honest. His jaw clenched, muscles working as he processed my words.
"Estelle—"
"No." I cut him off, gesturing at him with the gun again. "You don't get to dismiss this. You don't get to act like your life doesn't matter, like I wouldn't be destroyed if something happened to you."
For a moment, his mask slipped. I saw the vulnerability beneath the arrogance, the fear he kept buried.
Then his expression hardened again, his gaze falling to the gun in my shaking hands. "Give me the gun."
"No."
I don’t know why I refused.
"Estelle." His voice dropped to that dangerous register. "Give me the fucking gun."
"Make me."
The words were barely out of my mouth before he was moving. His hand shot out, wrapping around the barrel as he yanked it from my grip. I lunged for it, but it was already gone and out of reach.
"You want to act like a brat?” His arm wrapped around my waist, hauling me against his chest. "I'll treat you like one."
Before I could react, he was lifting me, throwing me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing. I pounded against his back, flailing, but his grip was iron.
"Put me down!" I whisper-yelled.
