Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 121

It’s a little past eight when I park, and of course Addy and Layla pick that exact second to step out of Zig’s....hand in hand,chatting animatedly. They spot me, freeze mid-conversation, and I do that thing where I hope they’ll keep walking. They don’t. They wait, polite little predators with their eyes fixed on me.

I swing off the bike and head for the door with my shoulders set to ignore. “Hi, Jax!” Addy calls, bright as a bell. I give her a nod, curt and dismissive, the kind you toss at someone you hope won’t talk back.

But she does. Of course she does.

“We were thinking of going out for drinks tomorrow night. We asked Xan but—”

“Not interested,” I say, flat enough that they both hear it, then I walk inside.

Xander is bent over a client at his station, needle whispering against skin at the top of her breast....and when I step in he glances up, winks at me, then turns back to his work. I slide onto a stool as close as I can without crowding the space, watching the way his elbows move, how he angles his wrist.

The girl winces, breath hitching through her teeth. “Xan,” she whimpers in a ridiculous, breathy pout.... voice pitched high. she utters his name in that way people do when they want you to feel bad for them and also proud of them at the same time.There’s performance in it.

“It fucking hurts.”

I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches.

“Almost done, sweetie.” His voice softens, warm enough to melt steel. “Just a few lines left. You’re doing good.”

His hand steadies her shoulder like it’s part of the damn aftercare, like it’s nothing and everything at once.

My gaze narrows, something in me coils tight and ugly. He shouldn’t sound like that with her. He shouldn’t sound like that with anyone.....

And she looks at him like she knows him. More ink trails her arms, down her ribs, all of it in his style. She’s been under his hands before. My stomach turns hot, acid-dark.

It doesn’t take long before he’s done. He cleans her skin, lays down the wrap. She hops off the chair, a smile breaking across her face like he just gave her something holy.

“You did such a good job.” She beams at him in the mirror, her fingers brushing over the new ink. Then, as if she hasn’t already pushed enough buttons, she steps in and hugs him....quick but close, cheek pressed to his collarbone. My chest burns.

I don’t like how she smiles at him, how her eyes light up at the shape he’s made on her skin. It’s not rational. He’s at work. But there’s an animal part of me that hates it entirely.

When she turns to leave she catches my eye. She smiles at me...a small, shining smile. The urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake some goddamn sense into her overwhelms me. Don’t smile at him, I say in my head.... don't look at him like that.

I want to tell Xander to stop being kind to everyone and save it all for me. Instead I sit there with my hands clasped, pretending to be casual, watching her leave. He starts cleaning up, stripping his gloves off, wiping down the chair with quick, practiced movements. He keeps flicking glances my way, the kind that land and linger for just a beat before slipping off.

“Were you nearby?” he asks casually. “You got here pretty fast.”

I keep my face blank. No way in hell am I telling him I’d been parked at the coffee shop two blocks down, nursing a cold cup just to have an excuse to wait for his text.

“I've got a fast bike,” I say instead, pushing up from my seat. My boots drag a little on the tile as I cross over, coming to stand right next to him. Close enough that I can smell the faint mix of ink, soap, and that subtle cologne he always wears.

I watch his hands move like every motion is second nature. And before I can choke it back, it slips out.

“Sweetie?” My voice comes low, edged with something sharp I can’t sand down. “You call all your clients that?”

He scoffs, the sound soft and amused, lips twitching at the corner. Then he shrugs, all cool and unbothered. “I was being nice.”

“Nice?” I huff out a breath that feels bitter. “That wasn’t nice. That was flirty, and she was swallowing every damn word.”

He shrugs again, this lazy little roll of his shoulders. “Keeps them coming back,” he says simply. “Good for business.”

I cross my arms, the leather of my jacket creaking as I lean back just slightly, eyes tracking him as he gathers up the trash. He doesn’t rush, just walks it to the bin and dumps it in, all smooth lines and easy rhythm. Then, without missing a beat, he strides toward Ziggler’s office.

“I’m off,” he calls in. Zig grunts something back, muffled, and Xander turns on his heel.

I’m still right where I was, planted like I’ve got roots in the floor. He spots me, and the curve of his mouth shifts to a slow smile. One that feels like he knows exactly what I’ve been thinking this whole time. He strides straight over, eyes cutting into mine.

I know the look on my face gives me away. He sees it. Hell, he fucking enjoys it....he chuckles, soft and rich, like my unraveling is a private joke only he’s in on.

“She’s a girl, Jax,” he says like that fixes it.

My jaw tightens. “That’s not a good enough defense.” My voice dips lower. “A good one would be that she’s not me.”

His smile turns sharp, eyes glinting with heat. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

The command lands heavy in my chest, knocking the air out of me. My gaze drags over his face, every line, every angle....those eyes that burn too bright, the smile that always manages to crawl under my skin.

I cup his jaw, both hands holding his face like I’m scared he'll vanish, and crash my mouth against his. His lips curve against mine like he knows exactly how to unravel me. When I finally tear back, I don’t let go.

I can’t.

My arms wrap around him, pulling him flush against me. It hits me as I’m holding him, this is the first time I’ve ever done it. The first time I’ve wrapped my arms around him instead of him pulling me in first. The first time in years I’ve willingly held onto anyone like this.

I don’t even understand what pushes me forward, what part of me cracks wide enough to let it happen. But once I’ve got him against me, there’s no going back.

I press my face into the side of his neck, arms cinched tight, my fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt like I need the anchor. He fits there...against me, in my arms, with a kind of perfection that steals the breath from my lungs. His body curves into mine as if he’s always belonged here, like my chest was built for this exact weight.

And he doesn’t hesitate. He just slides his arms around me, strong and sure, holding me back like he knows exactly what this costs me.