Page 55 of Electric Wounds
I roll us over, hovering above her, our lips never breaking contact. My hands roam her body, tracing the curve of her waist, feeling the softness of her breasts. She arches into my touch, her nails dragging lightly down my back, sending a shiver through me. I trail kisses down her neck, to her collarbone, moving lower as I worship her with my mouth. Her skin tastes sweet, like something I don’t deserve but crave, anyway. When I move back up to kiss her, she’s breathing heavily, her eyes dark with desire.
“Jax,” she whispers, her voice filled with need.
With frantic movements, we help each other shed clothing. In seconds, Lily lies beneath me, her perfect body fully bared. I line myself up and push into her slowly, savoring the feeling of her tight heat surrounding me. She gasps, wrapping her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper. I move slowly at first, wanting to savor every sensation, every sound she makes. Each thrust feels like an anchor, tethering me to the present, to her.
At that moment, she’s my entire world. I kiss her deeply, pouring all my frustration, guilt, and longing into that kiss. She responds eagerly, meeting my movements, her hands clutching at my shoulders, holding me close. I doubt she understands what I’m trying to communicate with every passing of my lips over hers, but I pretend otherwise.
We move together in a slow, steady rhythm that builds and builds. Her body starts to tense beneath me, her nails digging into my skin as her pleasure rises. She cries out my name as she falls apart, her body trembling around me, and it’s enough to send me over the edge too. I bury myself deep inside her, losing myself in the release.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, our breathing slowing as we come down from the high. I kiss her again, softer this time, lingering, trying to communicate everything I can’t say out loud. She smiles against my lips, her fingers brushing through my hair.
She doesn’t understand. She probably never will.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice full of emotion.
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. A wave of guilt crashes over me, but I push it aside, trying to focus on the comfort of her in my arms.
We stay like that for a while, holding each other, finding solace in the quiet intimacy. Despite everything, she’s still here with me, and for now, that feels like enough.
Eventually, she lifts her head, concern etched into her face. “Are you okay, Jax?” she asks softly. “You seemed really down last night.”
I hesitate. The urge to tell her the truth battles with the need to protect her from the darkness inside me. “Yeah, I’m okay,” I lie, forcing a smile. “Just had a bad day. It happens sometimes.”
She watches me carefully, worry still lingering in her eyes. “If you’re sure…”
“I’m sure,” I say, though the guilt of lying to her weighs heavily. I kiss her forehead, trying to reassure her. “Thanks for asking, though.”
She nods, snuggling closer. I hold her tighter, focusing on her warmth, the steady rhythm of her breath, trying to drownout the turmoil swirling inside me. But it’s there, gnawing at me, threatening to pull me under.
Eventually, we both drift back to sleep. Her body curled around mine, her presence a small comfort in the storm I’m trying to keep at bay. But deep down, I know the truth—I’m on the edge of spiraling, and I don’t know how to stop it. The band’s already in trouble, and I can’t ask them to take care of me again. They deserve better. Lily deserves better.
I just wish I knew how to be the person they need me to be, instead of the mess I’m becoming.
THIRTY-SEVEN
THE MOODY MOTHERFUCKER
Enzo
Glancing at the clock next to the bed, I read seven. The thought of coffee is the only thing that can drag my ass out of bed this early. The hotel room is dim, morning light barely making its way through the heavy curtains. I’m not normally able to sleep in on hotel days, but sometimes I like to lie in my bed and pretend.
Today I get out of bed and migrate to the main area of the suite, already smelling coffee and hoping to catch Lily alone. She’s the only other person who seems to wake up early during hotel days. I stretch and yawn as I walk, stopping when I notice the others are already up, sipping their coffee and trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.
Everyone seems to be in an okay mood—except for Jax, who’s being his usual moody motherfucker self. His brooding presence feels like a dark cloud hanging over us. I watch him from across the room, his jaw clenched, eyes distant. Something’s definitely up with him, but of course, he’s not saying shit.
Lily is sitting at the table next to said dark cloud, but she stands when she sees me lurking nearby. She heads to the coffeepot, grabbing another cup and filling it. She’s dressedcomfortably, her hair pulled into a messy bun, looking as tired as the rest of us but determined to keep things moving.
“Morning, Enzo,” she says cheerfully, walking over to me to hand me the cup of coffee.
I grunt in response, not really in the mood for small talk. At least not now that it’s all of us together. These fuckers are stealing my time with Lily. Why aren’t they all in bed?
Lily sits back down next to Jax. He barely acknowledges her, giving her only a slight nod before returning to staring into his cup.
I roll my eyes. “What’s up your ass today, Jax?”
He shoots me a glare but stays silent. Typical. I might be an asshole, but sometimes it feels like someone has to push him out of his damn shell. If we all left him to it, he would be silent as a monk except for his time singing on stage. Dude had way too many feelings and way too much silence.
“Enzo, lay off,” Marcus warns, his tone firm. “We’re all tired.”
