Page 51 of Electric Wounds
"Thanks," he murmurs against the side of my neck, his voice a lazy drawl.
“Mhmm,” I return, too spent to form words just yet.
Enzo shifts us to lie side by side, his arm banded around me and his cock still nestled inside. Without another word, he closes his eyes, his breathing quickly falling into a steady rhythm, signaling he was already drifting off to sleep.
I lie there, nestled against Enzo's warm body, feeling a mix of satisfaction and contentment. The events of the night had me feeling more connected to him than ever before, and despite his usual rough exterior, I sensed a softness in the way he held me now. As I listen to his steady breathing, I could feel sleep tugging at the edges of my consciousness. I don't fight it, allowing myself to be carried away into a peaceful slumber, feeling safe and secure in Enzo's arms.
THIRTY-THREE
JAX'S FRUSTRATION
Jax
Motherfucker.
I wake up in a foul mood, the frustration from the past few days hitting me like a freight train. My head throbs, and my body aches from a restless night. I rub my eyes and glance over at the source of my frustration.
Lily, tangled up with Enzo, both of them still naked, with his dick partially inside her.
The sight feels like a punch to the gut. I heard them last night—hell, we all did—but seeing it first thing in the morning sets my blood boiling. Clenching my fists, I grab my phone to check the time. Dead. I try the lamp next to me, flicking the switch. Nothing.
"Fuck," I mutter under my breath. The power’s out.
Frustration gnawing at me, I lean over and shake Marcus awake. "We’re late. The power’s out," I growl.
Marcus groans, grabbing his phone off the nightstand. His eyes widen as he reads the screen. "Shit, we’ve got twenty-two missed calls from the crew. We’re five hours late meeting them."
“How the hell did we miss twenty-two calls?” Dylan asks.
“My do not disturb was on,” Marcus says, sounding frantic as he jumps out of bed and starts pulling on his clothes.
“Why didn’t they come knock on our door?” Lily asks.
Marcus shrugs. “Who knows, but we need to get down there.”
Panic spreads like wildfire. Dylan jumps out of bed. He’s usually laid back, the least bothered by any bad situation, but not today. He’s rushing to get his clothes on as quickly as Marcus.
Enzo untangles himself from Lily, the smug look he gives me making my fists itch. Lily pulls the sheet around herself, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
"This is on you," I snap at Enzo, my anger rising. "Your late-night sexcapade kept everyone awake, and now we’re screwed."
Enzo’s smirk disappears, his eyes narrowing. He opens his mouth to retort, but Lily quickly cuts in, her voice calm despite the chaos. "Guys, don’t start. We need to figure out how to fix this."
I ignore her. I’m too pissed to care about being civil. Grabbing my clothes, I storm out of the room, slamming the door behind me. I need space. I can’t deal with this shit right now. The tour, the pressure, the constant bickering, now the bus being broken down and us missing our only other ride—it’s all too much.
I head downstairs to the hotel lobby, my mind racing. How did things get this bad? Frustration and jealousy burn in my gut, making it hard to focus. The lobby’s quiet, a far cry from the chaos upstairs. I lean against the wall, taking a deep breath, trying to calm down. Every time I close my eyes, I just imagine Lily and Enzo together and it makes me want to lose my shit.
The elevator dings, and the rest of the band stumbles into the lobby, guilt and frustration written all over their faces. Marcus speaks first, his voice laced with irritation. "The crew’s probably losing their minds by now."
"No shit," I snap back. "We should’ve been down here hours ago."
Dylan tries to lighten the mood, cracking a weak joke. "Hey, at least we got some extra sleep, right?"
No one laughs. Even he shuts up under the weight of our glares.
Marcus holds his phone to his ear. The ringing is audible from where I stand. His call goes to voicemail. He tries twice more, and no one answers. “No one is picking up now,” he states.
"Perfect," I mutter sarcastically, rubbing my temples. "Just what we need."
