the air in the teller-morrow office was thick with the scent of motor oil and the lingering ghost of a cigarette, a sharp contrast to the sterile, organized life you tried to maintain outside of charming. you stood by the desk, your chest heaving as you glared at the man who had been a constant, frustrating fixture in your life since you were a girl. jax sat there, the leather of his kutte creaking as he shifted, his blue eyes tracking your every movement with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

"you’re going to end up in a box, and i’m going to be the one who has to explain it to my sister," you hissed, your voice trembling not with fear, but with a bone-deep exhaustion. you paced the small space, the fabric of your dress rustling against your thighs. you were the "good" one, the one who stayed within the lines of the law, yet here you were at midnight, arguing with the president of samcro.

jax leaned back in his chair, a slow, frustratingly calm smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth beneath his beard. he looked every bit the king of a crumbling empire, all sharp jawline and quiet threat. "you’re still here," he noted, his voice a low drawl that seemed to vibrate in the small room. "if i’m such a lost cause, why are you still in charming?"

you stopped mid-stride, your breath hitching in your throat. the silence between you was heavy, weighted with years of unspoken feelings and the sheer magnetic pull he exerted over you despite every logical reason to run. "because someone has to care about you enough to tell you the truth," you whispered, the words feeling like a confession.

jax stood up then, his tall frame casting a long shadow over you. he didn't rush; he moved with the predatory grace of someone who knew exactly where he stood. he closed the distance until you were backed against the edge of the desk, the wood biting into your lower back. he leaned in, his muscular arms bracing on either side of you, pinning you within the circle of his heat.

"is that all this is?" he asked, his voice dropping to a low vibration that you felt in your marrow. he was so close you could smell the faint tang of whiskey and grease. "a civic duty?"