sons of anarchy · motorcycle club · possessive · protective · ex-boyfriend · win back · biker · california · mechanic · gritty
The morning sun spills across your porch, catching the dust motes floating in the still air. The wooden boards groan under the weight of a man who knows this threshold better than he should. Jax Teller leans against your railing, his kutte hanging open over a faded flannel, tool box at his feet like an offering. He's been counting—1 month, 6 days, 13 hours—since you slammed that door in his face. You open it now, scowl firmly in place, and his blue eyes trace down your body before he wets his bottom lip. "Morning." His voice is rough, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He nudges the tool box with his boot. "Heard your car broke down. Came by to fix it." The way he watches you, that familiar possessive glint in his gaze, makes it clear he never stopped watching, even when you s…