Page 3 of Electric Wounds
On my way back, I stop in the restroom, pausing at the sinks to splash water on my face. Looking at my reflection, I give myself a stern pep talk. “You can do this, Lily. They’re just men, famous men, but still just men. Do not let them walk all over you.” My blue eyes reflect my determination as I nod to myself and head back to the bus.
Feeling bolstered, I return to find Dylan, Enzo, and Marcus sprawled across the seating area, each nursing a beer. I leave them to it, heading back to my bunk, only to stop short when I find Jax sitting in the one below mine. His curtain is half-open, and his shirt is off, revealing a muscular chest covered in ink. I linger for a second, my eyes tracing the tattoos, the designs interrupted by a smattering of scars.
He glances up from the book he’s holding. “Do you need something?”
“Err, no,” I respond, my cheeks flushing as I realize I’ve been staring. He returns to his book, and I climb into my bunk, settling in and pulling the curtain halfway closed. I change into my pajamas in the small space, then lie down, exhausted from the past few days.
I expect to have trouble falling asleep in this strange place, with a man I just met below me, but Jax’s presence is strangely comforting. The last thing I remember before drifting off is the bus rumbling to life and rolling out of the parking lot, headed for the next city, the next stage, the next chapter.
THREE
ON THE ROAD
Lily
I wake up to a strange, wet, rhythmic sound. Blinking in the dim light of the bunk, I try to get my bearings. The bus hums beneath me, its steady motion soothing, but the sound persists, pulling me further from sleep. It’s coming from the bunk below mine, and I tilt my head slightly, trying to hear it better. My heart starts racing as I realize what I’m hearing—someone is masturbating.
Not just someone. Jax. America’s heartthrob, Jax!
Heat rushes to my face, and I freeze, unsure of what to do. Should I pretend to still be asleep? Should I make a noise to let him know I’m awake? My mind spins with indecision, and I lie there, staring at the ceiling of my tiny alcove, trying to calm my pounding heart. The sounds continue, stretching out for what feels like an eternity, and I do my best to ignore the urge to shift around. Eventually, the wet sounds of his pumps stop, and Jax lets out a low, throaty groan. The sound sends a jolt of heat through me, causing my core to tighten.
I hear movement below, the soft rustling of a curtain being opened. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, tryingto calm my suddenly raging libido. This is not what I expected when I signed up for this job.
After a few more minutes, I gather the courage to climb out of my bunk and head toward the front of the bus. As I step into the communal space, my gaze immediately locks with Marcus, who’s sitting at the small table, shirtless and his hair tousled. He looks up at me with a knowing smirk. I resist the urge to check out his inked arms and bare chest. Apparently, rock stars don’t own many shirts.
“Morning, sunshine,” he teases, his voice dripping with the awareness of the temptation he presents.
My cheeks flush again, but I manage to keep my voice steady. “Good morning, Marcus.”
Breaking eye contact, I glance around and spot Dylan and Enzo lounging on the leather seats with their phones. Dylan is shirtless as well, but Enzo, thankfully, is fully dressed. He looks up and gives me a lazy smile. “Sleep well?”
“As well as can be expected,” I reply, trying to sound casual. Fake it ‘til you make it, and all that.
Dylan chuckles, drawing my attention. “Get used to it. The bus can be a noisy place.”
I nod, trying to brush off the awkwardness of the morning. Noisy is one way to describe waking up to a rockstar jerking off below me, but I would die before bringing that up. “So, what’s on the agenda today?”
“Isn’t that your job to know?” Enzo drawls, not even looking up from his phone.
I open my mouth to respond—though I’m not sure what I would have said—but I’m interrupted by the slam of a door. Jax emerges from the bathroom, his hair damp from a shower, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. His green eyes lock onto mine for a moment, and I feel a confusing mix of embarrassmentand attraction. It’s impossible to forget the sound of his groan from earlier.
“We’re heading to Denver,” he says. “Should be there by this afternoon. Sound check at five, show starts at eight.”
“Got it,” I say, mentally noting the schedule. I want to know more about how they spend their day on the bus, beyond the tour schedule I’ve seen. “Anything else I should know?”
Jax doesn’t respond and heads back to the bunks, presumably to get dressed.
Enzo stretches out in his seat, showing off a sliver of his tattoo-covered abs. “Just stick with us, and you’ll figure it out. The day starts slow, but things pick up fast once we’re at the venue.”
Dylan leans in closer, mischief dancing in his eyes. “And if you need help... adjusting, just let me know.”
I roll my eyes, trying to play it off, though the memory of Jax’s earlier activities still lingers in my mind. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, managing to keep my voice unaffected.
To ease the tension—and give myself something to do—I decide to make breakfast. I head to the small kitchen and start rummaging through the fridge and cupboards. There isn’t much to work with, but I find eggs, cheese, and a few vegetables. Omelets it is.
As I crack the eggs into a bowl, I sense someone behind me. I turn to find Dylan watching me with a curious grin. “Need any help?” he asks, his smile widening.
“I’ve got it, thanks,” I say, focusing on the task at hand. “Just thought I’d make breakfast.”
