Escaped Artist (Untamed #3) by Green Victoria & Reese Jinsey

Author:Green, Victoria & Reese, Jinsey [Green, Victoria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Turning Leaves Press
Published: 2014-05-28T16:00:00+00:00

thirteen

Two weeks later, I was on day twenty-seven without Ree and my own detox was failing miserably. There was no way in hell I could get her out of my system.

Nor did I want to.

Not anymore.

Though we spoke on the phone nightly and I drove out to visit every Sunday, we hadn’t been able to sneak in a repeat performance in her room. I missed the feel of her, the smell of her, the thrill of her mere presence.

And I missed drawing her.

Once I’d put pencil to paper again after so many weeks without it, I was going crazy to get back to my art. I hadn’t said anything to her yet, but was hoping that maybe once she was out and I was done with my commitment at the tattoo shop, we could head back to Paris together, pick up where we’d left off.

Still, I couldn’t complain. The time she spent at the facility was paying off. Slowly, but surely she was becoming my true Ree—the girl I’d seen glimpses of and fallen hard for. She’d always been there, but had too often been eclipsed by all-consuming pain. Now the sadness in her eyes was ebbing, giving way to strength and determination.

And happiness.

This last week, instead of being submerged in the darkness of the past and talking about the mindfuck that was her family, she’d focused on looking toward a brighter future. Her dream of discovering talent and covering the walls of her own gallery with art was no longer just a fantasy. She now saw it as a reality, a real possibility. And I was going to do whatever it took to help her realize it.

Running with Leo had become a morning ritual of sorts. It relieved some of my tension. Not to mention, it got me away from the constant orgy inside the house. It was as if every member of No Man’s Land—save for Leo who had a girl back in L.A.—was trying to fuck someone out of their mind. Two or three times night.

It didn’t help that rock stars apparently gave zero flying fucks about noise levels. “The louder, the better” was the motto around here. Listening to what I could only assume they’d call “research” for their Nailed to the Wall album was driving me nuts.

Not because I cared that they were screwing their way through all of Amsterdam. And not even because Synner kept sending half-naked chicks to my bed in search of something I had no intention of giving them. It was the knowledge that the only girl in the entire city I wanted was out of reach.

Today’s three mile run had to hold me over just until tomorrow.

Tomorrow, when Ree returned to me.

Finally.

“Mind if I hit the shower first?” Leo asked as soon as we returned. “Indie is going to have my balls if I’m late to the studio again. She will literally chop them off, string them into a necklace, and wear them around her neck where Syn’s currently hang.”

“Thanks for the unnecessary visual,” I said with a groan.

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