Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 90

I raise a brow, smile crooked. “Your friend, huh?”

“We're having a party this weekend,” she goes on, “We’d both like it if you came. And, well…” she gives me this sly smile, “we’re pretty close. So much so that we don't mind sharing.”

She taps the fresh tattoo on her arm. The skin’s red and raw, but she beams at it like it’s the best thing she owns. The implication lands like a hammer.

My client lets out a low whistle from the chair. Addy fake coughs, loud and exaggerated, clearly enjoying the hell out of this.

Of course this happens now. With him in the room. Watching me like a hawk. I decide to test the waters, might as well stir the pot.

“So where’s this party at?” I ask the girl, keeping my tone casual, like I’m actually considering it.

Her face lights up. “It’s at my friend’s place, kind of like a big house party. Lots of people, good music—”

“Mm.” I tilt my head, as if I’m weighing it. “Not usually my thing. Will there be cute guys?” I let a slow grin curve at my mouth,

She blinks, frowns. “Pardon?”

I shrug, “If there’s guaranteed to be cute guys there, I might be convinced to make an appearance.”

That’s as far as it gets.

Because suddenly Jax is there. Not walking, not looming...there. One second I’m smirking at this girl, the next his fist has the front of my shirt, yanking me forward, and his mouth crashes into mine.

He kisses me like it’s a claim, like he’s pouring every ounce of control I stole from him last night right back into me. I feel my knees nearly buckle even though I'm seated, the sting of his stubble scraping my skin, the taste of him flooding my head until everything else, the shop, the client in my chair, the goddamn air...is gone.

When he finally tears back, I’m wrecked and breathless. The girl’s standing there, frozen, eyes wide like she’s just witnessed a crime scene.

Jax turns to her, jaw tight, voice sharp enough to cut. “What? You want me to get on my knees and suck his cock so you get the memo? He’s off limits.”

“Jax,” I grit out, his name catching in my throat, half warning, half plea. I glance back at the poor girl, because yeah...she’s still a client. “Sorry about that.”

Her friend’s still a few feet behind, mouth hanging open. The brave one finally stammers, “We didn’t...sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“You do now,” Jax snaps.

“Jax.” My voice is sterner this time, sharp enough that his eyes flick back to me. He archs a brow, as if asking what he's done wrong. The girls beat a hasty retreat. My client chuckles under his breath, clearly entertained. Addy and Layla, though...yeah, I can feel them staring holes in my direction.

“Oh. My. God,” they say in unison, like a damn sitcom laugh track.

Layla clutches her food like it’s evidence. “Did you see that? Or did they lace this with hallucinogens?”

Addy doesn’t miss a beat. “Nope. I saw it. Clear as day.”

I run a hand through my hair, fighting the heat crawling up my neck. Jax, the absolute menace, just hands me the bag he came in with like nothing happened.

“Excuse me a sec,” I tell my client, who’s grinning like this is better than cable TV. He waves me off.

I grab the bag, set it aside, then stand and hook my hand around Jax’s arm. “Come with me.”

Addy mutters something about needing popcorn. Layla fake-swoons in her chair. I don’t even glance at them as I steer Jax straight to the backroom. The second the door clicks shut, he’s on me...shoving me back against it, mouth hot on mine.

“Jax—” I break away just enough to gasp. “I’m at work. I’ve literally got a client waiting.”

“All the more reason not to waste time talking.” His lips crush mine again, hands braced on either side of my head.

I shove lightly at his chest, not really meaning it. “What the hell was that out there?”

“What you wanted. Don’t pretend,” he growls against my mouth. His teeth catch my lower lip, savage and claiming, before he mutters, “I should get you a fucking collar with my name on it. Make sure every delusional bastard knows who you'll always crawl back to.”

The words light me up, burn straight through me. And suddenly I’m clutching him like he’s the only thing holding me up. My hips roll without thought, chasing the heat of him, and a desperate groan tears out of me. I don’t give a damn if he brands me, marks me, makes me his. I actually want it. Every filthy inch of it.

“You’re a damn caveman,” I mutter, but the words melt when he kisses at my jaw.

He pulls back just enough to look me dead in the eye. “Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since last night.”

That twists something deep in me. But I can’t resist the jab. “Funny, considering you’re the one who left.”

His jaw ticks, but instead of snapping back, he asks, “What time do you get off?”

I shrug. “Not sure. I’ve got a six-hour piece starting at two. Could run longer.”

We’re close now, breaths mingling, trading soft kisses between words. Light, teasing brushes of lips that make it hard to focus.

“I’ll pick you up when you’re done,” he murmurs.

“Okay,” I breathe. “But I really need to get back. Guy’s dog just died, last thing he needs is his tattoo artist ditching him mid-session to make out.”

Jax chuckles, low and dangerous, before bending to my neck. He sucks hard, dragging teeth, and I know he’s leaving a mark.

Then he steps back, eyes hooded. “Eat what I got you before it gets cold. And call me when you’re almost off.”

I nod, dazed. “Yeah. I will.”

I reach behind me, hand on the lock, then I turn around. But before I can twist it, his arms wrap around me from behind. He presses into me, his mouth back on my neck, right where he just marked me.

“Sorry about last night,” he says softly, the heat of his breath sinking into my skin. Then he kisses the spot, not rushed, not careless, just the faintest press of his lips, lingering there like an apology only my body can hear. The kind of touch that doesn’t just skim the surface but sinks, curling into the quiet parts of me I try not to expose.Then he pulls the door open for me.

I step out first, heart pounding, every nerve fried, like I’ve just been through a storm. I drop straight back into my station, into my client, like nothing happened. Pretend the world hasn’t just shifted. Pretend my hands aren’t shaking for an entirely different reason than ink.

Addy and Layla’s stares burn holes into the side of my face, pointed and relentless, but I ignore them. I know the second this client walks out, they’ll ambush me, and I’m not sure which one will bite harder.

From the corner of my eye, I catch Jax heading for the door. I force myself to stay locked in, to keep my focus on the skin in front of me. My jaw grinds as the urge to glance up claws through me, to take one last look. But I don’t, because if I do, they’ll see everything I’ve tried so fucking hard to bury since whatever this thing with Jax began. The slip in control. The hunger I can’t leash. The part of me that doesn’t give a damn about consequences, only about him.