Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 116

My chin’s still resting on Jax’s shoulder, my arms still snug around his waist like I’ll never let him go, and I’m watching him finish with the burgers. He’s made more than a few, stacked them neat, butter glistening on the buns he toasted. The playlist hums low in the background, another track weaving through the air.

I let out a small hum. “So, can you also bake stuff?” I murmur into the space between his neck and shoulder.

Jax pauses mid-motion. He tilts his head slightly, like he’s not sure if I’m serious. “A few basic things,” he says slowly. “But it’s been a while.” He turns just enough to catch me with that steady, curious stare. “Why? Is there something you wanted?”

That look... it’s unfair. The seriousness in his eyes, like he’d actually bake me a three-tier cake right now if I asked for it, makes me smile before I can help it. My throat tightens, the answer catching there. “What can you—”

But I don’t get the chance. Because I hear it a shift of weight, soft footsteps behind me. I turn, brows furrowed, and there's Nate. He’s halfway turned, clearly caught in the act of sneaking away, like a kid who just touched the cookie jar.

“Hey,” I call out, a little too quickly, like I’ve caught him red-handed.

He freezes, then pivots back around, plastering on an awkward smile. His hand comes up, scratching the back of his neck.

I untangle from Jax, stepping aside to stand beside him at the counter. He looks like he might bolt, hesitance in every line of his body. But before I can ask him to come over, Jax beats me to it.

“Since when do you wake up this early?” he asks, tone flat but not unkind, just curious.

Nate shrugs, pointing vaguely toward the counter. “Smelled something good.” He hesitates, then adds, “Plus…”

“Plus what?” Jax prods when Nate leaves it hanging, one brow raised.

Nate clears his throat, shifting from one foot to the other. “It’s nothing. Just...” He waves a hand, then shakes his head like he’s scrapping away the thought. He huffs out a breath and goes for something safer. “Maybe grab me some earplugs when you’re out. Or a pair of those noise-cancelling headphones, please.”

And then he quickly darts his gaze between me and Jax, too fast for him to mask, and the faintest flush climbs his cheeks. He doesn’t linger on it though. He just snatches a burger off the trey like it’s his lifeline and hops up to sit on the furthest edge of the counter, all casual bravado that isn’t fooling anyone.

I clear my throat, rake a hand through my hair, and bite down on the grin that’s threatening to give me away. Because if I needed confirmation, it’s right there. He definitely heard everything.

Jax, unbothered, pours three glasses of orange juice, moving with that slow, deliberate flair that’s so him, and almost begrudgingly sets one in front of Nate. Guy’s already wolfed down half his burger like it’s the first meal he’s had in days. He grabs the juice, gulps half of it in one go, then points at the remaining burgers on the trey like he’s claiming territory.

“Can I have another?” he asks, wide-eyed, like a child asking for dessert.

“No,” Jax says, curt and flat, without missing a beat.

I can’t help it. I chuckle, pick one and hand it to him regardless. His whole face lights up as he smiles up at me before turning to Jax and announcing, like it’s gospel, “I like him.” Then he’s tearing into the second one like it’s his lifeline.

I watch him, and for some reason, all I can think about is a golden retriever. He’s got that same boundless, pent-up energy, all restless limbs and easy smiles. His default expression is clearly happiness. “Sit,” Jax murmurs, hand on the small of my back as he guides me around the counter.

The touch is brief, neutral in appearance, but it detonates inside me. I swallow down the sparkly rush of heat, forcing myself not to react, not to lean back into him like I want to. By the time I lower onto the stool, my chest feels unsteady. I expect him to join me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stands, body angled toward me, glass of juice in hand. There’s a couple of stools between us and Nate, and his entire focus is right on me.

“You’re not eating?” I ask, lifting the burger to my lips.

He shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Later.”

Then I bite down and my eyes damn near roll back. It’s obscene how good it is, perfectly balanced, savory with just enough tang. My body reacts like I’ve just tasted something I’ve been missing my whole life.

He watches me, that faint smile still playing on his lips. “You like it?”

I take another slow chew, swallowing hard before I answer, voice low. “You might’ve just ruined burgers for me. Nothing else is ever going to come close to this.”

The way he’s standing there...proud but understated, his eyes holding mine like he knows I mean it on a level I can’t admit out loud.

A few strands of my hair fall loose when I bend my head to take another bite. And then his hand is there, fingers brushing them back with this rare gentleness that feels like a secret he doesn’t share with anyone else.

I want to move closer. God, I want to. We’re already only inches apart, but it isn’t enough. I want to cling, bury myself in him, kiss him again until I’m drunk on it, tuck my head into the crook of his neck and let his scent flood my veins. The pull is so strong it’s almost unbearable, and I have to mentally talk myself down. I’ve never been this hung up on anyone, never felt this kind of ache. And I know, deep down, that the longer I’m with him, the worse it’s going to get. I’ll probably start craving him like oxygen soon.

Instead, I lift the burger to his lips. He leans in without hesitation, takes a bite, and I don’t look away. Not when his mouth closes around it, not when he chews, not even when he swallows. My entire body thrums with the intensity of it.

He notices, of course he does. A small scoff escapes him as he leans just a fraction closer, his eyes burning into mine. “Keep your eyes on your food,” he mutters.

But I don’t blink, don’t break. “I am,” I say, voice low, the words caught somewhere between defiance and want.

Something flickers across his face, a half amused, half flushed look that’s so rare on him it steals my breath. His voice dips lower. “Careful, Xander.”

The warning only stokes the fire. The space between us feels like it’s alive, charged, every molecule humming with the pull of him. And then behind us, Nate mumbles around a mouthful of food, “Add a damn blindfold to the list.”