Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 140

Jax is at the stove, shoulders loose but focused. I’m trying not to hover, but who am I kidding, I’m orbiting him like a planet. Every time he shifts, I shift. Every stir of his spoon, I'm there, trailing after him like my oxygen depends on it.

My eyes catch on what’s left of the banana bread he baked, sitting wrapped on the counter. I wander over, slice off a piece, and head to the fridge. The cold air brushes my face as I scan the shelves until two jars catch my eye, mayo and barbecue sauce. Something in me stirs, reckless curiosity. I grab both, line them up on the counter, and pull out a spoon. Before I can question myself, I’m slathering both across the bread.

I’m just about to take a cautious bite when I feel heat on the side of my face. I turn.

Jax is frozen mid-stir, spoon hovering over a saucepan, his expression pure horror. His gaze flicks from my hand back up to my face, disbelief radiating off him.

“What?” I ask defensively.

His voice is flat, edged with incredulity. “You’re not actually gonna eat that, are you?”

I look at the bread, lift it a little. “Why not?”

He scoffs, shaking his head like he’s reassessing every life choice that’s led him here. “Remind me why I like you again?”

I frown at him. “Oh, come on. You of all people, you should be open to flavor experiments.”

“Flavor experiments,” he repeats, eyebrow cocked. “Fries in ice cream is an experiment. That's culinary terrorism.”

I roll my eyes so hard it almost hurts. “Anyone ever tell you you get a little psycho about food?”

I hold out the bread toward him, stepping closer. “Here. Try it.”

He immediately lifts his spoon like a weapon, pointing it at me. “Stay back.”

“Don’t be a coward.”

His mouth twists, resisting a smile. “My appetite’s flatlining just looking at it.”

I snort and close the distance anyway, catching his wrist in my free hand. “Trust me,” I coax, lifting the bread to my mouth instead. I take a bite.

It’s....vile. Sweet, tangy, creamy in the worst way possible. My tongue wants to revolt. I’m certain my face betrays me, but I push through, humming like I’ve just tasted heaven. “Mmm, it's good. Here, I’ll even feed you like a baby bird.” I tear off a smaller bite with my teeth, extra cautious not to taste it again, then I tilt it toward him.

He shakes his head violently, turning his face away when I get too close, but he’s laughing now, shoulders shaking. The sound wraps around me like something warm and untouchable, it feels like everything.

“I can’t believe I've used you to taste test before.”

I grin, trying to shove the bread closer as he pushes me back with his free hand. His eyes are gleaming, alive in a way that makes my chest ache.

“Fine, be that way,” I sigh, giving up. I walk the bread over to the trash, dramatic as I drop it in.

“Why the hell do I bother perfecting my dishes for you when your standards are obviously in the gutter?” he mutters, half amused, half exasperated.

I cross the kitchen to him, still grinning, and catch his face in both hands. I press a kiss to his mouth, quick but sure. When I pull back, he makes a face like I’ve just poisoned him.

“I swear I can taste it,” he says.

I step back, hands raised in surrender. “Okay, message received. We never have to kiss again. Sorry for being so revolting that my very presence offends your palate. Clearly I’m not needed here.” I turn like I’m about to walk out, milking it.

Jax scoffs and snags my wrist, tugging me back with that strength of his. His mouth finds mine again, rougher this time, like he’s setting the record straight. Then he plants me at his side, positioning me with one firm hand on my hip. “Stay. Don’t fucking touch anything.” He’s already turning back to his sauce.

I lean against the counter, eyeing his work. “You sure you don’t want me to taste-test that? I might think of ways to elevate it.”

“Yeah,” he says without missing a beat, “...straight to the levels of food poisoning.”

I shake my head, about to volley back, but he dips in and presses a kiss to my jaw. Then his gaze hooks mine, soft and wicked all at once. “Just stand there and look sexy. You’re a hell of a lot better at that.”

And damn it! The way he says it, the way his eyes linger, it makes standing still feel like the only thing I'll ever want to do.

A few minutes in, my phone pings. I fish it out, thumb swiping across the screen. A voice note from Addy. Knowing her, it could be anything from a rant about men to a recording of her singing off-key in the shower. Still, I’m not about to walk away to find my AirPods, so I hit play.

Her voice bursts through the speaker, loud and dramatic. “Xan, can you believe Layla bailed on Grind just because Adam said no? Like, what the actual fuck? You two are turning into a couple of domesticated pussies. ‘Oh, I’ll have to ask my boyfriend’—” She slips into a mocking tone. “—‘Sorry, we can’t, our bedtimes are too early!’ The fuck?! You guys used to be so much fun!....”

I scoff and shake my head, pressing stop.

When I glance up, Jax is watching me mid-chop.

“She doesn’t sound too happy,” he says, almost amused.

I suck in a breath. “We used to go out a ton. Not so much anymore. She asked me to hit a club last night. I said no. Layla promised she’d go, though… clearly didn’t.”

I actually feel like a shitty friend now. Addy's dragged me and Layla home drunk more than once. She even tagged along when I wanted to hit gay bars, swearing she’d just find herself a bi guy and make it worth her while.

I glance up again. Jax has stopped chopping, arms folded across his chest, his weight shifted like a cat before a pounce. His eyes cut into me...sharp and predatory.

“You miss it?” he asks, low. “The drinking, the dancing....flirting with some guy you planned to take home and fuck because you knew they'd obviously say yes?”

There’s a smug curve to his mouth, but underneath it I can hear something else....like he actually needs the answer.

I let out a chuckle, turn to face him. “I kind of miss two of those things. But not nearly enough to give this up.”

“Sure?” he pushes.

I nod. “The third one’s what usually made me do the first two. But I’ve already fixed that....permanently.” My chest warms just saying it. “I’ll pack Addy some of whatever you’re making. She’ll get over it.”

He steps closer, gaze still on me like he’s stripping me down layer by layer. Then, out of nowhere, he says, “A restaurant.”

I frown, caught off guard. “What?”

His voice softens, almost like he’s confessing something private he hadn’t meant to let out. “I used to want to open one.”

It hits me sideways, the way he says it. Like it costs him something to admit, like he’s already regretting letting it slip.

I don’t know what to say. My throat tightens with the fact that I’m holding something he probably hasn’t told anyone in years, if ever.