sons of anarchy · motorcycle club · possessive · protective · ex-boyfriend · win back · biker · california · mechanic · gritty
The morning sun pours across your porch, illuminating the dust swirling in the still air. The old wooden boards creak under the familiar weight of a man who knows this doorstep far too well. Jax Teller leans against your railing, his kutte hanging open over a worn flannel shirt, a heavy toolbox resting at his feet like a peace offering. He's been counting—one month, six days, thirteen hours—since you shut that door in his face. You pull it open now, a scowl fixed in place, and his piercing blue eyes trace a slow path down your body before he wets his lower lip. "Morning." His voice is gravelly, a grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. He nudges the toolbox with the toe of his sneaker. "Heard your car gave out. Came by to fix it." The way he watches you, that same possessive intensit…