Conflicted Love (Needle's Kiss)

by Stark, Lola

  I barked out a short laugh at her one-track mind. “No, no sex. Yet.”

  “Damn,” she pouted making me smile even bigger.

  “Okay, we’re going up a step now, ready?” I asked.

  “Where are we going?” she asked sounding slightly giddy from the excitement of being surprised. I had woken her up in the most toe-curling way. I’d been as discreet as possible, even going so far as to blindfold her after helping her up into the truck.

  “You’ll see in a minute. Be patient, baby.” Once I guided her up the step and pressed myself to her back, my arms curled around her very big belly. I couldn’t not touch it; it was a pretty special thing, and every time I did Junior would roll or kick, almost like it knew I was there.

  “Congratulations!” Everyone yelled when Teeny stepped inside the tattoo parlor. The entire place was decked out in balloons and streamers. Mace and I had snuck off after dinner the previous night leaving Teeny and Scarlett to their girls’ night in while we slaved over the decorations. Well, maybe not slaved, but close enough.

  Teeny’s eyes watered with unshed tears as she smiled shakily holding a hand to her chest in surprise. “What? I don’t…who did this? What’s it for? I mean…”

  Damn, it was adorable when she babbled.

  “You graduated, Princess. You are a fully qualified tattoo artist.” I rested my chin on her shoulder.

  “You did this for me?” she asked sounding a little choked up. I reached into to my pocket and pulled out the tissues I’d had the good sense to grab. I was getting the hang of this crying thing. I just had to have provisions all the damn time.

  I handed her off to Scarlett and pushed the tissues into Teeny’s hand. “I’ll be right back. I just have to take care of something,” I assured her before nodding to Mace and ducking into the backroom of the parlor.

  “You all set?” Mace asked walking in behind me and shutting the door.

  “Yes, no. I don’t know.” I ran a hand over my face and took a deep breath. “Fuck me.”

  “Yeah, you’re ready,” Mace laughed and slapped me on the back.

  “Have you got it?” I asked shifting from foot-to-foot nervously. Mace reached over and passed me the box I was after.

  “She’s going to skin you alive when she finds out what you’ve done.” Mace laughed when I nodded.

  “I know, but it had to be done.” I hid the box and moved to the refrigerator pulling out the cake Scarlett had picked up that morning. “I feel kinda sick,” I regrettably told Mace.

  His answer was to laugh and head back out to the party with me following not far behind. As soon as I stepped back into the crowd of our family and a few close friends, Teeny’s eyes locked on me and she waddled over.

  “This isn’t just for my graduation.” Obviously while I was in the back, she’d noticed the decorations that all said baby shower. I shook my head smiling, placed the cake on the table and cupped her face in my hands.

  Looking down at her sparkling eyes and blindingly happy smile, I felt almost like a superhero. I’d put that smile there. Me. “Enjoy it. You deserve it.” I brushed my lips over hers and nibbled the side of her mouth, and then spoke against the soft red skin of her lip. “You want something to drink or eat? I got pickles just for you.” Her answer was to snort and nod her head.

  When I pulled a jar of pickles out of a bag under the table and handed it to her, she pecked me on the cheek and took off as fast as her heavy frame would allow. I chuckled when she eased down on the waiting room sofa and opened the jar, popping a pickle straight in her mouth. I could even hear her moan from across the room. “Damn, pickles,” I muttered busying myself again.

  “I’m not sure what you were thinking picking this cake,” Ma chastised stepping up beside me.

  “What’s wrong with the cake?” I asked confused. It was what the lady had suggested at the bakery when I called the order in.

  “It’s blue,” she pointed out softly.

  “Yes, it’s blue. I’m relieved you aren’t color blind yet, Ma.” I ducked right away, but her hand still miraculously connected with my ear. “Ouch,” I complained rubbing my lobe between my fingers.

  “You don’t know you’re having a boy, bebe.” Ma’s warm smile made me more than a little happy.

  “It has to be. Look at the genes in play here.” I pointed to my puffed out chest.

  “Still so modest,” she mumbled leaning up and kissing me on the cheek before finding her seat again.

  It was a damn near perfect day. Teen was smiling like a loon surrounded by baby crap of every possible variety. So why was my stomach churning like a bitch?

  Once everything was cleaned up and all our friends and family had left, Trip smiled and told me with a sparkle in his eyes, “I have another surprise.” He had been acting all cute and discreet, and made me close my eyes. Shuffling through the parlor, I held onto his hand and let him lead the way.

  Still with my eyes closed, he told me, “Lay down right here. I’ll guide you.” He held my hips until I was sitting on the tattoo table and then gently helped me to lay down. The paper sheet crinkled under me as I got comfortable.

  “So I’ve been working on this tattoo piece for your ribs. I want to show you,” Trip told me cautiously.

  “Won’t I need my eyes open to see it?” I pointed out smiling. He was being coy and a little obscure.

  Buzzzzz

  At the sound of the tattoo gun, my eyes shot open and I sat up, ramrod straight.

  “What are you doing?” I barked out. Trip had the tattoo gun in his hand. “You can’t tattoo me! I’m pregnant!” I screeched. My hand flew up to my chest and my heart raced a million miles an hour. A giant smile took over his face and he burst out laughing. It was then that I realized he’d intended to frighten me.

  “You should have seen your face,” he wheezed holding his stomach with one hand. “That was priceless.”

  I slapped his arm. “You scared me to half to death, you asshole,” I giggled.

  “I was just messing with you.” He calmed himself down enough to put the tattoo gun down and picked up a sharpie. “I have this instead.” He waved the pen around and raised his eyebrows.

  “Okay, you’re in charge here.”

  Rather than just pulling up my top, he gripped my hips, squeezed my waist then slowly slid his hands up my ribs causing my top to lift and goose bumps to break out over my skin. His thumbs brushed against my ribs in a small affectionate gesture.

  “This might be a little cold,” his husky voice penetrated the cloud of lust around my head. Uncapping the marker, he sat me up, legs dangling over the side of the table and then rolled himself on the stool between my legs.

  "You gotta keep still, Princess," Trip whispered against my skin. The wet tip of the sharpie tickled my ribs as he leaned in close and started drawing lines, shapes and patterns I wasn’t able to see yet.

  I let out a long breath and relaxed under his hard warm hands.

  “Oh, that’s pretty.” I glanced at the intricate vines he had sketched over my taut skin within minutes.

  “I’ve barely started,” he grinned concentrating on his task. I was entrapped by the look on his face; every so often, his tongue would shoot out and wet his lips. Not only had my sex drive flown through the roof, but any normal woman would have wanted to jump his bones. He was damn sexy when he was drawing; he always had been. There were more than a few times when I’d been at the shop visiting Scarlett and he’d been sketching something, so absorbed in his project that he wouldn’t notice me watching him. The way he’d bite his lip and furrow his brow was enough to make me combust.

  I must have become lost in thought, as the next time I looked down, he had made a lot of progress. Along one side of my ribs was an amazingly detailed vine with whisper-soft baby’s breath; the background was the perfect pattern of wind and blowing leaves.

  “That’s amazing. Is it done?” I asked trying to see further past his tattooed hands.

  “Nope, I’ve been w
anting to do this for a long time. I’m savoring it,” Trip murmured completely focused.

  “What do you mean a long time?” I hadn’t realized before now, but he had drawn the entire thing without a sketch. He’d told me he drew up the design, so it wasn’t just him messing around with a pen; he had committed it to memory beforehand.

  “I told you. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, probably since the first time you walked into the parlor. You were wearing those fucking tight jeans that made your ass look like heaven and a backless shirt-thingy,” he all but moaned.

  Dumbstruck, I searched his face to find him lost in thought, the black marker raised mid-stroke. A cheeky grin slowly crept over his face and he shook his head.

  “Explain, please,” I demanded softly. The pen tickling as he steadily created his masterpiece.

  “You didn’t know?” he asked looking up at me as I shook my head. “Babe, every fucking time you walked in the room, I’d have a hard-on the size of the Statue of Liberty. I lost count of the number of times I whacked off with you on my mind.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know. Why didn’t you ever…?” I wanted to ask, but I was afraid of the answer. I still had this niggling fear he had fallen in love with me only because I was carrying his child.

  Capping the pen, he put it aside. “I never wanted to mess up the friendship we had. If I had thought for a second fucking you six ways from Sunday would have gotten me what I have now, I wouldn’t have hesitated. I wasn’t ready then. I am now.” The easy, simple way he spoke those words melted my heart.

  “I’m stuck between wanting to punch your pretty face and wanting to kiss the hell out of it.” He didn’t want to mess up our friendship?

  “My face isn’t pretty,” he injected with a scowl. “It’s manly and handsome.”

  I chose to ignore his disgruntled comment and pointed out, “Our friendship wasn’t exactly a healthy one.”

  “I figured you knew I was hot for you, that’s why you pranced around in next to nothing or skin-tight shit. You were torturing me on purpose.”

  “No, I didn’t.” My browns creased then an idea formed. “I could have banged the hell out of you long before now. I’m thinking we have to make up for time lost.”

  With a shake of his head and a heated look, he picked up the sharpie and moved between my legs.

  “Not there. I won’t be able to see it if you do it there,” I giggled when the marker pressed to the underside of my stomach leaving the wet black lines.

  “I’m strangely turned on right now,” he smirked wickedly.

  “I can help with that.” I immediately jumped at the chance.

  “Be patient, Princess.” He put the lid back on the sharpie pen and tossed it on the table beside him. He then moved back a little to view his work. He smiled before slowly leaning forward and pressing his lips to my stomach, while squeezing my hips. He leaned his forehead against it and took a deep breath. The gesture was so sweet that it made me want to cry.

  Only two more weeks of the damn pregnancy hormones if luck was on my side.

  Trip lingered at my belly pressing kisses to it for a moment longer before he picked up a small mirror and held it to his chest. My interest was more than piqued. He was acting a little strangely.

  Holding out a hand, he helped me down from the table. “Stand there. I’ll show you.” He proceeded to trace my stomach and walk me through his design. “You saw most of it; here’s our part.” Stretched out along the middle of my belly was a timeline of sorts. “There’s donuts because you always used to bring them in to the parlor, and you made sure I got my favorite.” Pointing to the tiny images, he dragged his fingertips to the next. “There’s board games. From the first night we made out, you remember that? We hadn’t known each other long.” I nodded. I did remember.

  We’d gotten drunk together at Scarlett’s one night, all of us just lounging around playing stupid kids’ board games. She had passed out cold and we ended up making out like a couple of teenagers. It’d turned hot and heavy, but something had snapped and he pulled us to a stop. I’d been overly pissed off, but played it like I didn’t care either way. I’d cared. I already had a crush on him by then.

  “This here is the drink you threw at me that night at Bob’s bar when I chased that douchebag away from you.” He pointed to a perfect glass that looked exactly like the rum and coke I’d been drinking that night. “He was screwing the waitress in the hallway in between dances with you.” Trip told me, his face getting stormy as he no doubt remembered that night.

  His fingers, whisper–soft, moved over further. “This is for the first time we heard Midget’s heartbeat.” He smiled softly pointing to a little zigzag heartbeat pattern. “This one is his first teddy bear. Next, a microphone for the song I sang to you at the wedding.”

  “To me?” I asked.

  “Yeah, that was all for you. That’s where this comes in.” He pointed to an angel holding up a tiny ball of light. There were other little pieces of art scattered across my skin, all representing a little piece of our story. The main focal point above the whole thing was a princess crown, which made me laugh. When he first started calling me that, I would get so mad at him I’d glare daggers at him for days. He’d simply laugh and saunter off.

  Slightly emotional I went to move as he stood up. His hand on my arm stopped me and he dropped down onto his knees holding the mirror to his side.

  “This one is really important.” Holding the mirror so I could see the underside of my bump I read the script, and read it again and gasped. Looking down into his nervous blue eyes, I opened my mouth to speak.

  He stopped me and read the words out loud. “Princess, I’m so in love with you; it hurts. You make me crazy and you drive me nuts. You know me like nobody else. I want to be your somebody for the rest of my life; you’ll forever be my somebody. Will you be my wife? Marry me?” he finished shakily.

  Just as I was about to answer, I felt a rush of warmth. I looked down further and gasped as it hit me. “Trip, my water just broke.”

  “Huh?” Trip asked blinking rapidly, his hand in his back pocket.

  “My water just broke,” I squeezed out when a pain ripped through my lower stomach almost like it was in a vise.

  “But, I’m trying to—SHIT! “ He shot up off his knees and ran out the door. I stood there staring at him and gripping onto the table all the while hearing him rambling, ”I need more time. We have more time! Junior isn’t due for two more weeks!”

  “Trip, I think you might need me to come with you.” I looked down at the wet floor and back up at the door. “Perfect time for him to get scared and run away,” I grumbled as the pain subsided.

  “You have the baby. I need you to come with me,” Trip said panicked when he rushed back in the room looking flustered.

  “Calm down, honey.” I skirted around the table. “I need a mop.”

  “Fuck the mop! Your water broke.” Poor Trip looked so freaked out. I was about to reassure him but another pain gripped me again. I grabbed his arm and breathed nice and slow, concentrating on a spot on the wall behind Trip.

  “We need to call 911. We need the paramedics,” he rushed out looking around a little helplessly.

  “Calm the hell down.” I gritted my teeth. His freak out was nothing but amusing. The pain passed and I directed him toward the door. “Can you please get me my cellphone so I can call Scarlett?”

  “Stuff, we need your stuff. You start for the car. I’ll get your stuff.” Dear Lord, he was rambling.

  Standing beside the monstrous truck, I was close to cursing him. When he raced out of the parlor, a cell pressed to his ear, I glared at him. He pulled the phone away and raced toward me. “What’s wrong?” he yelled looking between my stomach and me.

  “Your stupid penis truck is what’s wrong!” I complained. “I told you a truck was a stupid idea. Didn’t I tell you? I damn well told—” His lips on mine abruptly muffled my rant.

  Pulling back, he held onto both my
arms until I was steady. “Shut up. We have to get to the hospital.”

  Six hours after arriving at the hospital, I was getting panicky. Surely, she shouldn’t be in so much pain. It couldn’t be normal. Shit, something’s wrong, something has to be wrong.

  Every few minutes, she’d start those breathing-things that stupid teacher lady from the classes had showed us. Her face would scrunch up and she’d look at me like she was wishing a thousand scorpions would attack my crotch. Frankly, she was scaring me a little.

  I took a very slow step forward and handed Scarlett the cup of ice chips before mumbling, “Gotta update Mace. Be right back.” The foul look both the girls gave me only made me hightail it out of the room faster.