Chapter Four #2
I wanted her to be mine. It was so startling, so sudden and intense it nearly knocked the breath from my lungs. Not just for a night or a week or however long my usual conquests lasted. I wanted her to belong to me in every way, forever.
I wanted to be the one who made sure she ate, who made sure she rested, who eased the burdens weighing on her slim shoulders. I wanted to wrap her in my protection and shield her from whatever was putting those shadows under her eyes.
I wanted her to need me, to rely on me, to look at me like I was the answer to prayers she'd stopped saying.
"Avery talks about him all the time," I continued, keeping my tone conversational while my mind raced with possibilities. "Says he's real smart."
She gave me a genuine smile then—small but real, lighting her eyes in a way that made my chest tighten with want.
There. That was what I'd been waiting for, that glimpse of the beautiful woman beneath the armor.
"That's so sweet," she said, and the warmth in her voice made something fierce and protective rise in me.
"Kids have excellent taste in people," I replied, holding her gaze and letting a hint of my interest show. "Something we lose as adults, sometimes."
Subtle. Real subtle.
She looked away, but not before I caught the slight flush on her cheeks. The color transformed her face, made her look more vulnerable, and I felt that strange mix of desire and protectiveness surge again.
I wanted to see more of that blush. I wanted to be the only cause of it.
"Mr. Easton?—"
"Jax," I corrected, and watched her mouth snap shut as if she'd been caught doing something wrong. The reaction sent a hungry thrill through me, though I wasn't sure why.
Maybe because she was the first woman in years to seem genuinely affected by my presence instead of calculating how to use it .
"Jax," she conceded, and hearing my name on her lips sent a wave of warmth down my body. Like her saying it was some sort of claiming ritual, marking territory I didn't even know I wanted claimed.
"I should finish helping the children," she mumbled, already turning away, already retreating behind those careful walls.
"Of course." I straightened, respecting her boundaries while making it clear I wasn't done. Not even close.
"Maybe next time we could talk about something other than dinosaurs. Coffee, perhaps?"
There. Cards on the table. No games, no manipulation, just honest interest.
She hesitated, and I could see the internal debate playing across her face like storm clouds gathering on the horizon.
The nerves radiating from her were almost palpable, and for the first time in my adult life, I found myself genuinely anxious about a woman's response.
I was used to instant gratification, to getting whatever I wanted immediately. But something deeper, something I barely recognized, made me wait.
"I don't think that would be a good idea," she finally said, her voice soft but firm.
The rejection hurt. It was a feeling I'd never experienced before and definitely didn't enjoy. My stomach sank, ego bruising in ways I didn't know were possible.
But something in her tone, in the careful way she'd delivered the refusal, kept me from pushing.
She wasn't being cruel or dismissive. She was just... scared.
I nodded, carefully accepting the rejection without letting it touch my smile. Years of media training kicked in, and I was able to maintain composure even when the ground was crumbling beneath my feet.
"The offer stands, though," I said, keeping my voice light. "No expiration date."
Relief .
It flickered in her eyes so quickly I almost missed it, but there it was—genuine relief that I wasn't pushing, that I was taking no for an answer without argument or persistence.
When was the last time a man had respected her boundaries without trying to steamroll them ?
The thought was like a sledgehammer to the chest, and suddenly everything about her made sense. The careful distance, the suspicious looks, the armor she wore like a second skin.
Something had taught her that people didn't take no for an answer. That persistence was just another word for harassment, that charm was just manipulation with a prettier face.
I wanted to find whatever had caused this wariness and eliminate it.
But more than that, much more, I wanted to prove to her that not all men were the same. That some of us could be trusted with something as precious as her comfort, her safety, her trust.
I wanted to be different for her. Better for her.
I'd never wanted to change for a woman, had never felt the need to be anything other than exactly who I was. But looking at Estelle, seeing that relief in her eyes because I'd respected a simple boundary, I felt something shift inside me.
Maybe the playboy reputation wasn't as appealing as I'd always thought. Maybe the revolving door of meaningless encounters was exactly that—meaningless.
"Jax, can we go now?" Avery tugged at my hand, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around us like invisible storm systems.
"Coming, pumpkin." I gave Estelle one last look, softening my expression into something I hoped conveyed understanding rather than disappointment. "See you tomorrow, Ms. Estelle."
As I led Avery from the classroom, my mind was already racing with new possibilities. I'd never pursued a woman who didn't want to be pursued. Women came to me, drawn by fame and money and the cultivated image of danger wrapped in designer suits.
But Estelle seemed immune to all of it, looking at me and seeing... what? Just another rich guy with too much time and too little substance? Another player looking for his next conquest?
The thought was maddening and somehow exhilarating at the same time.
I wanted to know what she was thinking, wanted to understand the careful calculations I could see happening behind those beautiful eyes. Not to conquer or possess in the way I was used to, but to understand. To see the woman beneath the exhaustion and wariness.
To prove that I could be worthy of the trust she guarded so carefully.
In the car, Avery chattered about her day while I responded on autopilot, my thoughts still tangled around Estelle Moore and the challenge she represented.
This was about proving that a man could want a woman without threatening her, could pursue her without pressuring her, could be persistent without being predatory.
About becoming the kind of man she could actually say yes to.
The idea was foreign, revolutionary in its simplicity. Instead of pushing through her boundaries, I needed to respect them so completely that she chose to lower them herself.
Instead of being the kind of man women fell for despite their better judgment, maybe I needed to be the kind they fell for because of it.
I'd never attempted to be genuinely good for someone before, had never considered that my usual tactics might be part of the problem rather than the solution.
But for Estelle, I was willing to try.
For Estelle, I was willing to be better.
I imagined what it would be like if she actually trusted me. If she looked at me not as a threat, but as someone she could rely on. If she smiled at me the way she smiled when talking about Leo, with genuine warmth instead of polite distance.
If she let me close enough to take care of her the way she clearly took care of everyone else .
The possessiveness was still there, stronger than ever, but it had evolved into something deeper. I wanted to earn her. I wanted to prove that all my money, fame, and charm could be used for something better than collecting conquests.
I wanted to be the man she'd been waiting for, even if she didn't know she was waiting.
Halfway to Jovie’s, I was already formulating plans. Not schemes or manipulations, but genuine strategies for becoming someone Estelle Moore might actually want to know.
Someone she might actually trust.
For the first time in my life, I had a goal that couldn't be achieved through money or fame or raw strength. I had to actually become worthy of what I wanted.
And what I wanted was Estelle Moore's trust, her comfort, her genuine smile instead of the polite mask she wore for the world.
I wanted to be her choice.
Someone who actually deserved a woman like Estelle Moore.