Page 44 of Electric Wounds
Her release is explosive, her body arching against me as she cries out. The sensation pushes me over the edge, and I groan, my own release crashing through me. We collapse onto the bed, our bodies tangled together, spent and satisfied. Marcus adds himself to our pile of sweaty limbs, wrapping his arms around Lily and I, together.
As we lay there, the room still heavy with the scent of sex and the sounds of our breathing slowing down, I feel a deep sense of contentment. This night, this connection between the three of us, feels perfect. For now, nothing else matters.
TWENTY-EIGHT
MORNING CONVERSATIONS
Lily
I wake up to the soft light of dawn streaming through the curtains, a cozy warmth cocooning me in the hotel sheets. The events of last night play in my mind, bringing heat to my cheeks. It had been a good night—one that I never would have imagined in a million years. I still needed to sit down and talk to the band together, but this go with the flow thing is working for right now.
Slipping out of bed quietly, I tiptoe out of the room, careful not to wake Marcus or Dylan. The suite is peaceful, the kind of stillness that only comes with the early morning. I head toward the kitchenette, expecting to be the first one up, but I find Enzo already there, sipping a cup of coffee.
“Morning, Lily,” he says, his tone curt but not unfriendly.
“Morning, Enzo,” I reply, forcing a smile. “You’re up early.”
He shrugs, his dark eyes watching me closely. “Can’t sleep much in hotels. Want some coffee?”
“Sure, that sounds great,” I say, taking a seat at the small table.
The hotel suite feels luxurious, with polished floors that gleam in the soft light and plush furniture that just looksexpensive. The kitchenette, all granite countertops and a stainless-steel coffeepot, adds to the general appearance of staying somewhere that costs a lot of money. A large wall of windows overlook the city, casting a golden glow over the room as the sun begins to rise.
Enzo hands me a cup of coffee, the rich aroma filling the air, mixing with the strange vanilla-sweetness that follows him around. I take a sip, savoring the warmth. The silence stretches between us, a little thick with tension, as if both of us have things to say, but neither knows where to start.
I scan Enzo over the top of my cup as I take another sip of coffee. He looks rock god sexy as usual, his jet-black hair tousled, giving him that irresistible just-out-of-bed look. His tattoos, winding up his muscular arms, peek out from under his t-shirt. His dark eyes are guarded, and that perpetual smirk plays on his lips, making him both charming and infuriating at the same time.
“How’d you sleep?” he asks, his voice less sharp now, almost curious.
“Better than I expected,” I admit.
He nods slightly. “Yeah, it takes time. Changing places always makes it harder to sleep. Seems like you’re doing okay with this whole thing, though.” He shrugs, then sips his coffee like he’s trying to play off the half-compliment.
I laugh softly, shaking my head. “Just okay? I’m trying my best here.”
His smirk softens a little. “Alright, maybe you’re doing a bit better than okay.”
We sit in a quiet lull, sipping our coffee as the sun climbs higher. I decide to take a chance to delve more into his personal life. Enzo’s a bit of a mystery, and I’m curious about what lies beneath that tough exterior. When we hang out on the bus, things rarely get personal and it’s starting to feel a little strangenot knowing that much about these guys I spend all my time with.
“So, what’s life like for you guys when you’re not on tour?” I ask.
He raises an eyebrow, his playful yet guarded smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Life outside the tour? We don’t really have one. It’s all music, all the time.”
“Really?” I say, intrigued. “No hobbies or anything?”
He shrugs again. “Some, but the band takes up most of our time. When we’re not on the road, we’re in the studio, writing, recording. It’s a full-time gig.”
I nod, understanding it must take dedication to make it and keep making it. Heck, I’ve been with the guys for almost two weeks, and I’ve seen how much dedication it takes firsthand. “That makes sense. Must be exhausting, though.”
“It can be,” he admits, his tone softening. “But we love what we do. The fans make it worth it.”
I smile, hearing his passion for the music in his voice. Enzo puts out a vibe like he’s a total asshole, and sometimes he is, but not about this, apparently. “So, what about you? What’s your story? Like before Electric Wounds.”
He leans back, eyes narrowing slightly but with a glint of amusement. “My story? Not much to tell. Grew up loving music, found these guys, and the rest is history.”
I laugh, wondering why Enzo is so guarded and how far I can push before he leaves the room. “Come on, it can’t be that simple.”
He chuckles but doesn’t offer more. Instead, he asks, “What about you, Lily? How’d you end up managing a band of Rockstars?”
