Spark
602 Words
Two days passed.
Two long, restless, aching days.
Abby told herself she was fine. That she was over it. That the thrill of seeing Jax Maddox, of having his voice in her ear and his thumb on her skin, was just a phase. An adrenaline spike.
Except she hadn’t thrown out the glove.
She’d tucked it in her bag. Right next to the note.
And now, standing outside a garage on the edge of town—where oil stains bled into the concrete and the Black Reapers’ bikes glinted like metal beasts—she knew exactly what she was doing.
Returning something that never should’ve been hers.
She hadn’t called ahead.
She hadn’t told Jake.
She just came.
Stupid.
The garage door was open. Inside, sparks flew as someone welded something loud and angry, music thudding behind it. Two guys she didn’t recognize glanced up—one with long hair and a snake tattoo curling down his arm.
Recognition bloomed in his eyes. “Well, well.”
Abby lifted the glove. “This belongs to your boss.”
Snake whistled. “Bringing it back, or trying to keep him warm?”
She glared. “Is he here?”
Before he could answer, a low voice cut across the space like a blade.
“Back off, Vex.”
Jax stepped out from the shadows behind a lifted Harley, shirt streaked with grease, dark hair damp with sweat. He looked bigger here. Meaner. More real than he had any right to.
And when his eyes landed on her—everything else disappeared.
He walked toward her like she was gravity.
Abby’s throat tightened. “You left this.”
He didn’t even look at the glove.
“I know.”
Silence stretched. His crew faded into the background like shadows that knew better.
“You came,” he said quietly.
“I wanted to make sure you didn’t leave it behind on purpose.”
“I did.”
That stopped her.
He took the glove from her hand, brushed her knuckles with his fingers. Just enough to spark heat again.
“I wanted to see if you’d come find me.”
Abby’s breath caught. “Why?”
He stepped closer. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you. About that mouth. That fire. The way you look at me like I’m not already damned.”
Her voice was barely a whisper. “Maybe I am too.”
And just like that, the air between them crackled.
He moved.
Fast. Deliberate. One hand at her waist, the other at her jaw, tilting her face up.
“You want me to stop,” he said, voice rough, “say it now.”
She didn’t.
Didn’t speak. Didn’t breathe. Just looked at him and hoped to God he’d kiss her before she did something insane like fall for him.
His mouth hit hers.
Hard. Hungry. A kiss that tasted like gasoline and heat and choices they shouldn’t be making. She gripped his shirt, pulled him closer, and let herself get lost in it.
Finally.
When they broke apart, she was breathless. His forehead pressed to hers, his palm flat against her spine.
“I shouldn’t want you,” he murmured.
“But you do.”
“Yeah,” he said. “And that makes you dangerous.”
Abby pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.
“So be careful, Jax,” she said softly. “Because I don’t scare easy.”
He grinned.
“Good.”
Then the door slammed open behind them.
A voice barked through the space.
“Abby?!”
Her blood went cold.
Jake.
- Writer
