Tattered Love (Needle's Kiss)

him I was perfectly capable of starting my own damn car when he held his hand up silently, telling me to shut it. That pissed me way the hell off. “What the fuck, Mace. I can start my own God damn car. You don’t get to—”
    Mace grabbed me by the waist, hauled me against his body and pressed his mouth hard against mine. His tongue slipped in which effectively stopped my rant. I wanted to keep being pissy. I really did, but the man had a magic mouth. To this, my six out-of-this-world orgasms and I could testify.
    He pulled back slightly, pecked me one more time while I breathlessly tried to get my wits about me, and whispered, “Was listenin’ to the engine, babe. Fuel and air mixture on the carbie needs adjusting. Heard it yesterday.”
    “I knew that,” I whispered, a little dumbfounded that he’d picked it up. All other thoughts fleeting my head in that moment
    “Lunch at Ma’s on Sunday? I’ll be firing up the grill; pick you at eleven, yeah?” he told me in a rough voice. “Later, babe. Got shit to do.” He kissed me one last time. Before I could get a word out, he walked off, jumped in his truck and was gone. Leaving me flustered, I stared after him like a moron.
    I was dumbfounded. It didn’t go at all like I planned. I looked around, still slightly confused, before snapping back to reality and dropping into the driver’s seat.
    Cocky asshole!
     

     
    I’d been doubting myself since I arrived at the shop that morning. It pissed me off that he’d made me doubt myself. I was confident and didn’t take shit from anyone. Never in my life did I act like some dreamy-eyed moron over a guy. I was not that woman. I did like Mace, but I wasn’t sure what he was expecting. I had assumed, like me, he was up for a onetime thing; however, that morning, he’d told me he was taking me out again to his mother’s. That right there wasn’t a one night stand; it was something else entirely. I had no idea if I was even alright with that happening.
    He was hot, fan-fucking-tastic in bed and out of it. Plus, he was kinda sweet, but cocky and bossy, as well as a little annoying. There was something a little sad and pained beneath it all; he clearly tried to hide it, but it was there in his eyes. He’d been hurt, but how I did not know. I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to know.
    Did I want to be involved with somebody who may be damaged? Did I want to be involved with anyone at all?
    Shut the hell up, Scar. You’re brain babbling.
    I liked my life how it was; easy, steady and simple. I needed my girl, my best friend; she always either had advice, or would help me work out the million questions running through my head.
    I sent her a text message. Seconds later my cell buzzed.
     
    911 my place 10pm. Bring ice-cream ~ S
     
    On it, babe. Chocolate? ~ T
     
    Double-choc fudge! ~ S
     
    Mace? ~ T
     
    YES! ~ S
     
    I put my phone away feeling a little calmer that Teen would come to the rescue and help me sort this cluster-fuck out. I went back to work engrossing myself in ink and skin until closing time.
     

     
    When I arrived home, I had a nice hot shower and a few beers. I was dressed in stretchy yoga pants and a tiny tank when Teeny breezed through the front door. She took one look at me, turned her nose up slightly, and said, “Get up, skank. Get dressed; we’re hitting the bar.”
    I looked up at her with a confused face. She was wearing designer jeans, a purple sparkly tank and matching wedges. There was no double-choc fudge in sight.
    “What? I want ice-cream. Where the fuck’s the ice-cream?”
    “No. No, ice cream. It’s not happening. Get the fuck up and get dressed. You don’t moon about over a guy, even if that guy is a fuckuva stud. What you do is get up, get your shit together and go the fuck out!”
    Right. So we were going out. I could do that; drinks would help me sort out what I was doing with Mace. I kissed Teen on the cheek as I walked past to get ready. Half an hour later, we were in a cab on the way to Bob’s bar, already half-tanked.

 

     
    My cell rang just after 1am. I picked it up from the coffee table in front of me. Scarlett’s name lit up on the display. “Babe?” I answered, wondering what the hell was wrong; I had seen her and her friend, who Trip had told me was Teeny, leave in a cab around 10:30 all dressed up.
    “You’re a sexy face,” she slurred, a loud noise in the background.
    “Are you drunk?” I asked slightly amused that she was drunk dialing