Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 148

It’s past midnight. The air feels heavy, like the night’s pressing down on me. I’m standing by the door, my jacket on, restless. Adam’s on the couch with Layla sprawled in his arms, completely gone. She’s draped in his jacket, head tucked under his chin. He looks tired and resigned....but steady. Always so fucking steady.

My eyes though, they’re locked on the hall Xander disappeared down. He took Addy to bed after she also blacked out. It's nice of him....innocent even. I know that. He’s not into girls, and with Addy? They’re friends. That’s it, that’s all there is. My head knows it, but my chest doesn’t give a fuck.

It twists, ugly and sharp. That fucking J-word, the one that’s so beneath me it makes my teeth clench just thinking it. But here I am anyway, standing here feeling it gnaw at me.

The breath I’ve been holding finally drags out when he comes back. His eyes go right to mine just like I’ve been waiting for. Christ, I hate how much I’ve been waiting for it. He crosses the room, calm and collected, not a hint of a stagger. He didn’t let himself drink too much. I guess that says something about him, about the way he thinks ahead, takes care of everyone.

“She’s in bed,” he says, voice low and eyes still on me. “We can head out now.”

Adam’s voice cuts in. “I ordered a ride. I’ll wait till it gets here.”

Xander nods, no argument. “ Make sure you lock the door when you leave.”

“I will,” Adam answers, already focused back on Layla.

“Goodnight,” Xander tells him and Adam answers. Then he turns to me, eyes dragging over my face like they’re looking for something. We step out, and the second the door clicks shut behind us, I don’t think. I just grab him, kissing him hard, like I need the contact to breathe. I force myself to pull back, breath shaky.

Xander chuckles, soft but surprised. “What was that for?”

“Just because,” I murmur, avoiding his eyes even though I want nothing more than to drown in them. We start toward the elevator and he asks if I had fun tonight.

“Fun’s a stretch,” I tell him honestly. “It was bearable.”

His lips quirk like that’s all he was hoping for. “I’ll take bearable.”

In the lift, it gets worse. This ache, this irrational pull. He’s standing right next to me, his hand’s literally already in mine. But it’s not enough....not nearly. I want more.

More skin, more weight, more heat. I want him pressed against me, around me, inside me. I want so much it’s unbearable. Even now, my chest feels tight, like if I don’t close the distance, I’ll break apart.

The cab we take smells like leather and stale smoke. I lean my head back against the seat, but my eyes never leave him. He notices, of course he notices, and turns with that little grin tugging at his mouth.

“What?” he asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.

I shake my head, a subtle smile slipping out without permission. “Am I not allowed to look at what’s mine?” His eyes glint in the passing streetlight. He leans closer, the smirk softening into something else. “You sure you’re not drunk? You seem a little dazed.”

Maybe I am, but not from the alcohol. My gaze roams over his face. There’s no detail left I haven’t memorized already, but still, I can’t stop. And then it hits me again, the memory of the hallway earlier tonight. The words that had nearly slipped out. Words I’ve swallowed more than once, words that burn my throat each time they claw their way up. But I never say them because my throat clamps up every damn time.

Because I know what shadows live inside me. The shit I’ve carried, the weight I’ve buried deep where even I don’t like to look. And I know, with a sick kind of clarity, those shadows could swallow any light he offers. Ruin the very thing I’m desperate to hold.

That’s why I can’t say it, because if I do, it’ll be real. And if it’s real, it can be destroyed.

So I stay quiet, hating myself for being such a coward.

By the time we get to his place, Xander’s already toeing his shoes off, peeling his clothes away like the walls are on fire. He’s down to boxers when he disappears into the bathroom.

I follow. I don’t even bother stripping, just lean against the sink and watch him through the mirror. He meets my gaze while brushing, eyes sharp and daring me to spit out whatever’s clawing at me. I don’t. My tongue feels nailed to the roof of my mouth. So I brush, too, like that’s why I came in here.

He leaves first and I stay, gripping the counter, glaring at my reflection.

Fucking coward.

By the time I drag myself to the bedroom, he’s in bed on his back, phone in hand, screen lighting his face. The sight of him giving his attention to that stupid fucking rectangle lights me up inside once again, irrational and raw. The space between us feels obscene, like it’s mocking me. There's too much distance, too much air.

“What kind of sane human being wants a wedding in the middle of a literal forest?” he mutters, thumb still moving.

I strip slow, eyes on him the whole time. “Your soon to be sister-in-law again?”

He hums distractedly.

I start for my side of the bed but stop. I can’t do it. I circle instead, stalking to his. He glances up when I’m standing over him, brow arched.

“Everything okay?”

No. Not even close.

I yank the covers back, crawl in, and pin myself right on top of him. His phone slips from his grip when I grab and shove it away, landing somewhere in the sheets. His eyes widen, then narrow in that amused way that makes my blood heat.

“What’s this?” His voice is low and threaded with laughter. “Looks like someone’s starving for my attention.”

“Starving’s one word for it.” I press down harder, arms locking around him because I just need to feel him. I bury my face against his throat, breathing him in, and finally my body unclenches.

“I persevered through all that tonight for you,” I murmur, my lips brushing his skin. “I deserve compensation.”

He chuckles, but his fingers are already sliding into my hair, stroking in that way that makes every nerve in me shudder. I swear I could melt into him, sink so deep there’s no pulling back out.

“And what sort of compensation are we talking about?” he asks.

“This works,” I whisper, clutching tighter, grinding down just to feel him solid under me. “This works just fine.”