Grease Slapped ( Ink Slapped Book 2) by A.M. Jones
Grease Slapped ( Ink Slapped Book 2) by A.M. Jones
EXCERPT
I stop walking, keeping my focus on the exit. “Sorry Hunter,
but I’m with someone.”
“You mean the dude that was about to get it on with Kayla in
the backroom?”
A violent turn of my stomach makes me clutch it tight.
“Yes, the dude in the backroom,” Eli spits at Hunter,
stalking down the hall. He grabs my arm, never stopping his angry stride. He
drags me outside. People are everywhere, but he seems to know where he’s going.
When we reach a parking lot, I recognize Milo’s van as Eli spins me to face him.
“You’re mad.”
“Why would I be? You haven’t done anything wrong.” I cross
my arms.
“You’re fucking kidding me, right? Then why did you walk out
like that?” The alcohol fumes hit me in the face. His eyes flash and they’re a
bit red. His jaw grinds something fierce. When I say nothing, he scoffs—an
incredulous sound. “You’re jealous?”
Again, I keep my words to myself. I’ll only make it worse.
“Or are you mad because I interrupted you and that guy?”
“Really?” I snort and snap, “I’m not the one who’s married.”
A mocking laugh rumbles from his throat. “Do you know how it
feels to be okay one second, insanely euphoric the next, and then fall into a
despair so deep, you’re not sure you’ll ever climb out?” He boxes me in with
his arms, supporting himself against the van. His face inches closer.
“You hide under all that ink. But you’re not fooling me. You
can tell yourself whatever you need to keep this locked tight.” He traces a
heart shape on my chest. “That’s why you don’t like Ink Slapped.”
I close my eyes.
“You know the weekend of the convention? Madison wanted me
to get you out of my system.”
My body’s so tense I wonder why I don’t break in half.
“I don’t think it’d be that easy,” he whispers. Almost like
it was more to himself than me.
I shake my head. Not disagreeing with him, I don’t know what
to say to diffuse the situation. I don’t know how to make things better. A few
moments tick by. “You’re not gonna say anything?” When I don’t respond, he
pushes from the van, spinning away from me. “I don’t need this. I don’t fucking
need another woman driving me fucking crazy.” He stops and hangs his head.
“Maybe you are like your mom.”
I feel my chest expand like my body wants to start sobbing.
I clench my hand, knowing the truth of his statement. “You’re right,” I whisper.
“Go live your life and chase the dream. I’ll break your heart eventually,
anyway.”
He links his hands behind his neck. “Don’t you think that’s
for me to decide?” His head turns so I can see his profile, and he drops his
arms. “But like I said, Taylor, whatever you gotta tell yourself.” He cuts his
eyes sideways before shaking his head and walking away.
Author Bio:
Author A.M. Jones is a hopeless romantic with a lewd mind. She resides in Tennessee and writes about anything that strikes her inspiration and creativity. Her strength in characterization makes realistic elements of humor, angst, and drama jump from the page and into your soul. Ms. Jones’ other half has published books in dark fantasy and continues to do so.
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