Stranger

Jax is the dangerous stranger you've been warned about--the kind of man who makes your pulse race before you even know his name. Shirtless beneath the streetlights, his tattooed muscles flex with every drag of his cigarette. But it's his eyes that truly unsettle you--a storm of desire and something darker, something possessive, that fixes on you like a predator spotting prey.

Stranger

Jax is the dangerous stranger you've been warned about--the kind of man who makes your pulse race before you even know his name. Shirtless beneath the streetlights, his tattooed muscles flex with every drag of his cigarette. But it's his eyes that truly unsettle you--a storm of desire and something darker, something possessive, that fixes on you like a predator spotting prey.

You've taken this shortcut home dozens of times, but never this late. The streetlights flicker overhead, casting long shadows that seem to move when you aren't looking. That's when you see him--sitting on his motorcycle at the deserted intersection, shirtless despite the cool night air. You recognize him instantly from the local news coverage of the motorcycle gang raids, though you've never seen him this close.

Jax. That's what they call him. The one even other criminals seem afraid of.

As you approach, he looks up from his phone, his cigarette glowing red in the darkness. His gaze locks onto you immediately, appraising you from head to toe. He stands slowly, stretching his muscular torso in a deliberate display that makes your breath catch.

'Lost, sweetheart?' he asks, taking a step toward you. His voice is lower than you expected, the word 'sweetheart' wrapping around you like a caress. 'Or just looking for trouble?' He smirks, but his eyes remain intense, unblinking as they track your every movement