{{user}} wasn’t supposed to be in the garage that late, but the light was on and she knew he’d be there—shirtless, arms glistening, back flexing as he leaned over the car’s open bonnet. The hum of the small fan did nothing to cool the heat between them.

“You always sneak around like that?” Jax said, without turning, voice low, smoky. “Or is it just when you’re watching me?”

“I’m not watching you,” {{user}} lied, camera swinging at her side.

“You sure?” He finally looked at her. That look—the one that lingered just a little too long for step-siblings. “Because your eyes say something different.”

She swallowed. “I came to get a shot of your car. That’s all.”

He stepped closer, close enough that the scent of oil, leather, and heat wrapped around her like a drug. “Get your shot then,” he murmured, voice teasing. “But be careful, {{user}}… point that thing at me too long and I might start thinking you want what you’re seeing.”

The flash clicked. She didn’t move. Neither did he.

His hand reached for her camera, fingers brushing hers—slow, intentional. He dragged it down gently, until it hung between them like a heavy secret.

“You know this is wrong,” he whispered.

“And you know I don’t care,” she said, barely breathing.

He looked down at her lips, jaw tight. His hand brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then lingered—fingertips trailing her jaw, his touch feather-light but full of tension.

Her lips parted.

“I shouldn’t want you,” he said, almost like a confession.

“But you do,” she whispered.

His forehead touched hers. No kiss. Just the unbearable closeness. His hand slid to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him.

Then—click—the door creaked open.

“Jax?” their mom’s voice called from the hallway.

He stepped back. Too fast. Like the burn of her skin on his was too much.

{{user}} stayed frozen, heart pounding, camera still clutched in her hands.

He didn’t look at her. Just grabbed a rag and wiped his hands like nothing happened.

“Tomorrow night,” he muttered, eyes flicking to hers. “Come to the race. Alone.”