Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 147

Layla’s face scrunches, her laugh sharp. “I had a client tell me once she actually finds these videos hot. Like, an actual turn-on.”

Xander raises a brow, glancing at Addy. “Why is this one saved on your phone, though?”

Her eyes widen as she slaps the screen off and shoves it into her pocket. “No it’s not!”

The other three laugh, Addy and Layla carry most of the weight of conversation. Xander throws in a remark here and there.

His hand's resting on my thigh. Not moving...not needing to. Just there.

Several drinks in and Addy’s hijacked the speaker. Xander tried to play his own playlist, but she shut him down with “I love you, but your taste is ass.” He barked back something about her library being nothing but thirst-trap tracks.

Now some overproduced hype song is shaking the walls. Layla’s swaying with her beer, singing along, Adam keeping a steady hand on her waist while he humors Addy’s chatter.

And then there’s Xander.

He’s leaned back against the couch, drink dangling loose in his hand, head tipped just enough that his hair’s fallen into his face. His cheeks are flushed, lips pink and wet, eyes that lazy half-lidded kind of dazed he swears isn’t drunk. He’s a goddamn picture. And he’s mine to look at.

“Hi,” he says, turning that smile on me, slow and soft like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Something in my chest tightens. My hand moves on instinct, combing his hair back, needing to see his face.

“You’ve hardly drunk anything,” he murmurs, close enough his breath hits my jaw.

He’s right. I’ve barely touched the stuff after that first drink. “Who’s gonna look after you when you can’t see straight?”

“I won’t get that drunk,” he says, voice dipped low, smooth with confidence. Then his gaze drags down my face like a caress. “I don’t wanna risk blacking out. Not when I’ve got this to look at.”

The way he says it makes my pulse slam against my throat. He leans closer, voice curling heat into my ear. “I wanted to get you a little drunk too.”

I huff out a laugh that feels more like a choke. “Did you now?”

He nods, lips curving, eyes on mine.

“Thing is,” I tell him, “I don’t get drunk. Not unless I down four of those bottles.”

He scoffs softly, fighting the urge to roll his eyes, his gaze flicking to my mouth. “I’d still like to try.”

And before I can ask what the hell that means, he lifts his glass, downs a mouthful, then cups my face and pulls me in.

I go willingly. Too willingly.

His mouth finds mine, hot and wet, and then the liquor hits my tongue, sharp burn masked by the taste of him. My gut twists, not from the alcohol, but from the way he feels....lips moving over mine like he owns me.

He starts to lean back, but I’m not ready to let him go. My hand clamps around the back of his neck, holding him there, and I kiss him deeper, my tongue taking. It stops being about the drink, about the goddamn party around us. It’s just him. Just us. My chest is on fire, my head gone, and the only thing I can feel is Xander pressed up against me, lips slick and hungry against mine.

Addy’s voice cuts through, teasing. “You two want my room or what?”

I tear myself back, jaw tight, chest heaving. When I chance a glance at him, his pupils are blown wide, lips red and kiss-bruised, eyes hazy and starving. He looks like sin. Like temptation itself.

And all I want is another taste.

Layla’s eyes find us, wide and glassy, cheeks flushed like she’s had more than her limit. She leans back against Adam’s chest, head tilted, watching me and Xander like we’re a damn movie she can’t stop staring at.

“Can I ask you guys something?” she breathes out, all dreamy, voice soft with liquor and whatever spell she’s under.

Xander doesn’t miss a beat. His hand is in mine now, warm and grounding. He glances at her, deadpan. “If it’s some weird shit, Layla....keep it to yourself.”

She shifts, trying to sit straighter but failing. One leg ends up bent, draped casually across Adam’s lap, his hand instinctively curling around her calf like he can’t not touch her. She’s got her eyes locked on me.

“Just humor me,” she insists, swaying a little closer. Then, right at me...“Jax, what exactly do you like about Xander?”

The air shifts, sharp and sudden.

Xander’s head snaps her way, brows up, like she just kicked him under the table. “Okay....wow.”

She shakes her head, blonde waves bouncing. “No, that’s not what I mean. I'm just curious to know what he saw in you that made him like you. Your looks aside.”

And now they’re all staring at me. Layla, expectant. Addy, grinning like she lives for this kind of mess. Adam, quiet but curious. And Xander....he’s watching too.

Heat crawls up my neck. My throat works, but no words come. Because what the hell am I supposed to say? Tell them the truth....that he wrecks me just by existing? That he feels like something I never thought I could have, let alone want this bad?

Instead, I reach for the glass Addy just filled. My fingers are steady when I lift it, but my voice is rough when I finally speak. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” I tip it back and drain it in one go, the burn easier than admitting anything out loud.

Layla throws her hands up, “Fine. Be that way.”

My palm presses into Xander's hand, needing the contact. He squeezes back like he knows what I can’t say.

Addy cranks the music again, some thumping beat that has Layla practically bouncing in her seat. She squeals when Addy tugs her up by the hand, and she goes willingly.

“Careful, flower,” Adam calls after her, tugging her hem back down before she gets dragged away. His voice is rougher than he means it to be. Protective.

I watch them spin into the middle of the room, laughter spilling out of them like it costs nothing. That kind of joy....it’s foreign to me. Untouchable. I don’t know how to let go like that. The closest I've ever gotten was when I was with Xander.

Then they rope him into it. He resists at first, groaning and swatting them away. But Layla latches onto one arm, Addy the other, and soon he’s on his feet. He’s laughing, head tipped back, letting them pull him into their chaos.

And I’m rooted, staring. Because Christ, he’s beautiful like this. Holding them steady when they nearly collapse, laughing so freely it burns to look at him.

And all I can think is.....I really don't wanna share that. His laughter, his words, his touch. I want to take them all, keep them locked away, just mine alone. Not divided or scattered. I want every fucking piece of him for myself.

“Damn,” Adam scoffs beside me, dragging me out of it. His voice laced with humor. “What do I gotta do for you to look at me like that too?”

The sound that rips from me is half a scoff, half something darker. My eyes cut to him, sharp...but my voice comes out low. “Shut it, Crest. You wouldn't know how to handle the weight.”

No one can.

No one except him.