Page 26 of Electric Wounds
"Good morning," he says, his voice low and soft.
"Morning," I mumble, feeling a blush creeping across my cheeks.
He gives me a warm smile, his blue eyes twinkling. "Mind if I kiss you, Lily?"
I hesitate for a second, wondering when we became so formal with each other, but then I nod. "Go ahead."
He leans in, and his lips brush against mine, slow and sweet. It’s unhurried, just like Marcus—calm, steady, with that hint of something deeper underneath. The warmth of his body against mine sends a shiver through me as the kiss deepens. His hand cups my cheek, his thumb gently stroking my skin, and my heart skips a beat. It’s all consuming in the best way.
When he finally pulls back, his eyes stay locked on mine. His hand resumes stroking through my hair. "Lily, what made you want to be a handler for our band?"
I inhale a deep breath, feeling a bit vulnerable, but comfortable enough with him to answer. "Honestly? I’ve always wanted to be a singer. But I never thought I was good enough, so I stuck to the business side of music. This job... it felt like my way in."
His expression softens. "You’re probably better than you give yourself credit for. This is a tough industry to make it in as a performer, though."
I shake my head, smiling a little. "Thanks, but it’s easier focusing on the behind-the-scenes stuff. I gave up on my singer aspirations a long time ago. Plus, I’ve been a fan of your music since high school. It felt surreal getting the offer to work with you guys."
His eyebrow quirks, and a playful smirk tugs at his lips. "You’re a fan? I like that. What’s your favorite song?"
I nod, feeling my cheeks heat. "Yeah, your music got me through some rough times." I pause, thinking of my favorite song. It’s one I’m sure that Jax wrote. There is so much angst and he seems like the angsty one. “Battlefield of tears.”
Marcus grins wider. "Jax will want to hear that,” he replies, confirming my suspicions. “How old are you, sweetheart?"
"Twenty-two," I say, watching his face as he nods thoughtfully.
"I’m twenty-seven. Jax is thirty, Enzo’s twenty-nine, and Dylan... he’s twenty-five. Kid joined the band when he was sixteen." He makes the word kid sound like a term of endearment. It’s clear that the band cares about each other, but Dylan and Marcus seem closer than the rest.
I laugh softly, surprised. "I didn’t realize there was such an age range."
"Yeah, we’re all over the place. But we’ve been through a lot together." He pauses, giving me a serious look. "And now, withyou here... we have an even bigger age gap. And a chance to start something new."
His words warm me in a way I didn’t expect, and I feel this strange sense of belonging. It eases some of the anxiety I’ve been feeling about what happens after the tour. "I’m really glad to be here.”
He leans in, kissing me again—this time with more passion, but still languid. His hand slides down my back, pulling me closer. I melt into him, the kiss deepening, and his tongue teases mine, sending sparks of arousal zipping through my body. I grip onto his shoulders, tugging him closer, seeking more.
Marcus doesn’t yield control, instead he pulls back, resting his forehead against mine. He kisses the tip of my nose, and I scrunch it in response, eliciting a deep chuckle from him. We stare at each other and this moment feels a hundred times more intimate than anything I have ever done in a relationship. It’s like Marcus sees me, all of me, and just wants to be near each other.
He holds me a little tighter, pulling me closer as his hand tangles in my hair. He kisses me again. It’s slower this time, full of all the things we haven’t said out loud yet. His heartbeat thuds steadily against my chest, grounding me.
"Can I ask you something else?" he murmurs, his lips brushing against mine as he barely pulls away to speak.
"Of course."
"Have you ever thought about singing again? Like, seriously?"
I sigh, feeling that familiar doubt creep in. "Sometimes. But I’m not sure I can put myself out there and be rejected. I’ve seen how harsh people can be, even just to amateurs online. I don’t want to pour myself into something and be torn apart."
Marcus pulls back slightly, his eyes searching mine. Eventually he nods. "I understand,” he responds, not pushing further.
We remain like that, staring at each other for several minutes, unspoken words passing between us until noises in the bus break the quiet moment. Marcus sighs, his voice husky when he finally speaks. "We should probably get up before the others come looking for us."
I nod, feeling a little dazed, although I’m not sure why. "Yeah, let’s go."
We pull ourselves together, getting dressed and heading toward the small kitchen area. Enzo and Dylan are already there, sipping coffee.
"Morning," Enzo says, smirking, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. "Sleep well?"
I blush, trying not to think about what he's implying. Nothing happened anyway. "Yeah, thanks."
