Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 87

He doesn’t look at me after that. Just starts gathering up the shit on the coffee table...empty bowls, beer cans, the pizza box. His movements are quiet, efficient, almost too careful. And I just sit there, watching him.

When he retreats to the kitchen, I’m left with the scraps he didn’t take. I grab the rest, mostly cans, and follow. The aluminum rattles in my hand as I dump them into the trash with a hollow clatter.

Xander’s at the sink, bowls stacked one inside the other. He doesn’t even look at me when he sets them down with a dull thud, and mutters, “I’ll deal with them tomorrow.”

Then he turns. Starts walking toward the door like that’s that. Like he’s done for the night.

I shift before he can pass, leaning against the doorframe, blocking the way. My arm shoots out, braced against the wood. He stops short, eyes flicking up to mine. His mouth opens, probably to tell me to move, but I beat him to it.

“I’ll try.”

The words taste strange, unfamiliar, like I’ve stolen them from someone else’s mouth. I force myself to hold his gaze. “I can’t guarantee you anything. Not answers, not the kind of easy you’re looking for. But I’ll try.”

He blinks, a little surprised, quiet. I keep going before I lose the nerve.

“You gotta be patient with me. You push like you’ve been pushing and it’ll get you nowhere. You just… you just have to stick around. Be here. And believe that I’ll find a way to share eventually. I just… I need time.”

My throat locks for a second, and I stop, dragging in a breath, searching for the word that doesn’t come easy. His eyes are on me, waiting, sharp but soft at the same time.

“It hasn’t even been that long since we started…” I pause, heat crawling under my skin. Xander’s eyes are already on me, steady and waiting, the kind of look that’s patient but unrelenting, like he knows exactly where I’m headed and he’s daring me to get there. “…dating.”

His smile breaks slow across his face, like he can’t quite stop it. It’s small but it’s real, and it lands in my chest harder than I expect. Something loosens and knots tighter at the same time.

I shake my head, voice rough. “I’m not just fucking around with you, Xander. Or with this. What we’ve got, it’s… it’s freaking me out more than I want to admit. But I’m in it. I am. And I’m doing everything I can not to screw it up. Because if I lose this, I’ll be worse off than I already am.”

I push off the doorframe a little, leaning closer, voice low, stripped bare. “So can you just let me feel it out as we go? Even if you’re impatient for a label, or whatever else...you gotta ease up. Trust that I’ll get there. Eventually. In my own way.”

He steps forward before I can even process it, sliding into the space I’m taking up in the doorway. His arms go around me, firm, steady. And for a second, I just stand there, rigid, because what the fuck is this? We’ve touched before....hands, mouths, skin, but this is different.

It’s not about sex, or teasing, or that electric pull that keeps yanking us back into each other. This is quiet, solid. Real.

And I think it might be our first actual hug.

His chest pressed to mine, his cheek against my shoulder, his arms wrapping around like he doesn’t plan to let go. And it’s strange, because I can’t remember the last time anyone held me like this. Not a pat on the back, not a quick squeeze, but a whole-body, heart-in-it hold. If it were anyone else, I’d have shoved them off, barked at them to get out of my damn space. But it’s him. And instead of pushing, I fold. My arms go around him, locking him against me.

And fuck, it stirs something I didn’t know I had left. Along with the affection comes fear...sharp, biting. Because in that moment, I know. I know if I lose this, if I ever fuck this up so badly I can’t fix it, I’ll possibly lose my mind.

“I’ll wait,” he says against my neck, his voice low, steady like it costs him nothing to say it. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

His lips touch my skin...my throat, my jaw, my cheek...soft, fleeting brushes that sting with how careful they are. Then finally, my mouth. The kiss is so gentle it’s almost cruel, like he’s breaking me open with sweetness instead of heat.

He pulls back smiling, bright, shameless, and asks, “So… can I tell Addy and Layla we’re dating?”

I scoff, half a laugh slipping out of me, because only he could be this fucking bold right after wrecking me with tenderness. My hands slide down, cupping his ass, dragging him closer against me. “That’s up to you.”

His eyes light up more, and then he hits me with....“Can I tell my mum too?”

I suck in a breath, jaw tightening. Then I lean in close, let my mouth brush his ear, teeth catching on the little silver ring there. I nip it, then drag my tongue over it, low voice against his skin. “Not sure about that one. But… as long as she doesn’t ask to meet me and shit, go for it.”

He laughs under his breath, holding me tighter, his hands warm on my back. Then he leans in, mouth ghosting my ear, whispering, “Would you like to go to bed… or something?”

I lean back slightly, studying him. His pupils are blown wide, lips parted, cheeks faintly flushed...he’s already turned on, and he knows I can see it. He proves it when his hand slides down, slowly undoing my zipper. He slips inside, wraps his fist around my cock, and Christ...I’m already straining against his grip.

“I’m suddenly in a very good mood,” he murmurs, stroking me once, lazy but enough to make me mutter a curse. “I think I’d like to celebrate.”

My chest rises and falls fast, heat pounding in me, eyes dropping to his mouth, hooded and dark. “As much as I fucking love your mouth and those hands,” I grind out, rougher now, “don’t think that’s gonna cut it. Not when I’m this wound up, this fucking desperate to wreck myself on you.”

I let it hang there, then lean in, my lips brushing his, my voice dropping to a growl. “Next time I’ve got you naked, it’s gonna be to fuck you. Hard. Until you can’t walk straight.”

His pupils blow even wider, grip on me tightening just enough to make me groan. His tongue runs over my lower lip before he whispers, smug as hell, “It’s getting unbearably hot in here. I’m about two seconds from stripping down, and when I do, you’re gonna show me if you're really as good as you keep making me think you are.”

I narrow my gaze at him, the challenge sharp between us. That sounded a lot like consent, but I need to be sure. “You realize I’m not messing around, right?”

He steps back a fraction, and for a moment my chest aches at the loss of his touch. Then he grabs the hem of his tank top, pulls it over his head, and tosses it aside.