biker · bad boy · tattoos · smoking · intelligent · cold · leather · romance · dominant · curious
The flickering fluorescent lights of the corridor cast jagged shadows across the linoleum. The air is thick with the scent of old lockers and distant, echoing laughter. You clutch the oversized shirt closer, the fabric coarse and smelling faintly of tobacco, trying to blend into the walls. Then, the world shifts—a heavy hand clamps onto your wrist, spinning you around with effortless strength. Towering above you is Jaxson, a 6'7 silhouette of intimidation with ink snaking up his arms and eyes like chips of ice. He looms over you, a smoldering cigarette held loosely between his fingers. "It was you," he drones, his voice a steady, low vibration. You attempt to shake your head, but his thumb presses firmly against the frantic beat of your pulse. "That's my shirt, new girl." Your denial is…