Thunderstruck: An MMA Bad Boy Romance

by Carter Blake

  Those eyes hold my gaze now.

  “Thunder?” A flash of something that looks like hope crosses her expression, then quickly vanishes, replaced by a mask of indifference. Her shoulders straighten, and her knuckles whiten on the door that she’s holding half-open in front of her. “What are you doing here?”

  It’s a good question. One I haven’t figured the answer to.

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  A small exhaled breath leaves her. “He told you?”

  No, he didn’t fucking tell me. Which pisses me off even more.

  “Can I come in?” I rough a palm over my jaw, then rub the back of my neck, praying she doesn’t slam the door in my face.

  With a small sigh, she opens the door wider. It’s then I see the baby bump that’s almost hidden under her baggy, gray t-shirt.

  I grind my back teeth together as a fresh wave of red-hot jealousy rolls through me.

  She should have been mine. The child growing inside her a part of me.

  Colin doesn’t deserve her.

  The thought of him touching her, kissing her, makes my insides turn to molten lava. I’ve never hated my brother as much as I do now.

  An awkward silence stretches between us as I follow her into the bachelor apartment.

  It’s exactly how I remember it. One room that consists of a living area-slash-bedroom, and a small kitchenette in one corner. Despite how meticulous she keeps the place, it’s hard to ignore the cracks in the plaster and the stains that she could never get out of the carpet no matter how much she scrubbed them.

  The thought of her raising a child here twists my stomach.

  “Do you want something to drink?” She moves to the far side of the room, clearly trying to keep as much physical distance between us as possible.

  “No. I’m good.” I sit down on the futon that’s been folded to resemble a couch. I forgot how uncomfortable the damn thing is. It must be a nightmare to sleep on in her condition.

  Her body language is stiff, forced, and she won’t meet my gaze when she sits down on the only real piece of furniture in the room, a brown recliner I bought for her two years ago. She’d fought me on it, until I convinced her I’d found it at one of those god-awful yard sales she was always trying to make me go to.

  A white lie, but at least she took it.

  She bites down on her bottom lip, hands moving protectively over her stomach.

  I don’t know how far along she is, but there’s nothing to her. If anything, she looks like she’s lost weight.

  Concern overrides my own unease.

  “Have you been eating?”

  Her gaze snaps to mine, and anger flashes there. “Is that what you came here to ask? To see if I’m capable of taking care of myself?”

  “That’s not what I was implying. I just…”

  “Just what?” With some effort, she stands, her back towards me. A quiver of emotion laces her words, “Don’t come here and act like you care. Just tell me what you want, then leave.”

  The futon creaks when I stand. “I came… to…”

  “To what?” She twists around, gaze hard on mine, almost daring me to say what I desperately want to.

  When I don’t answer right away, she shakes her head.

  The stubborn set of her jaw, the hurt and hostility emanating from her, tells me I should go, that she doesn’t want me here.

  If I didn’t know her better, I’d believe the act.

  Underneath the façade, I can tell she needs me. Even if she doesn’t want to admit it, she wants me here.

  Her eyes are glassy from the tears she’s trying her best to hold back, and the small quiver of her chin tells me that the moment I walk out that door she’ll fall apart.

  Not happening.

  “I’m not leaving.” Despite her small protest, I remove the distance between us.

  Cupping her jaw in my hands, so that my thumbs brush her cheeks, my fingers tangle in the silky, dark hair at the nape of her neck.

  Forced to look at me, she sucks in a breath, and I see it—the spark.

  The acceptance.

  It’s real.

  Always was.

  I can’t believe her connection with Colin was ever this strong.

  Or I don’t want to.

  I tamp down the jealousy that threatens to boil up at the thought of him.

  This is about her. About making sure she’s taken care of.

  “I can’t…” Her eyes close and when they open again, I see the wall she’s built between us. She raises her hands, and places her palms on my chest like she’s going to push me away, but instead they just rest there.

  “I’ve missed you.” It’s the truth. Despite everything, I can’t deny how much I care for her. How much I need her in my life. Even if it’s just as friends. I know that now.

  Her body tenses, fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt, and a small, almost silent sob escapes her lips. She buries her face in my chest, and I hold her until she finally lets the tears fall, and she melts into my body with the familiarity that has always been ours alone.

  Chapter 4

  Kennedy

  I can’t do this.

  And yet my fingers stay clenched in his shirt and my body practically melts into his.

  Emotions twist in my chest and no matter how hard I try to hold back the tears, I can’t stop them from spilling down my cheeks.

  His scent—familiar, male and powerful—wraps around me, as comforting as the strength of his body.

  I want nothing more than to submit to him, take the comfort he offers. But almost nine months of no contact, not even a damn email or text, and my emotions are spiraling, my defenses raised. After everything we’ve been through together. Years of friendship. To just throw it away over one stupid night. It’s unforgivable.

  Me.

  Him.

  A spark of anger flickers. It’s enough to give me the strength to push away.

  Thunder’s arms drop to his side, but his blue gaze never leaves me.

  “How long are you back for?” I ask tightly.

  He shrugs and shoves his hands in his back pockets, making his biceps tense and bunch. “As long as I need to be.”

  That’s not an answer.

  A small kick makes me wince, and my hand goes automatically to my stomach.

  “What’s wrong?” Concern etches his face.

  “Nothing. She’s just kicking.”

  “She?” Thunder’s brows bunch together, and the muscles in his jaw tighten. “You know it’s a girl?”

  My teeth clamp down on my bottom lip and I nod. I guess Colin didn’t tell him everything.

  Thunder drags his hands through his hair, gaze concentrated on my stomach and blows out an uneven breath.

  Silence stretches between us, until I can’t take it any longer.

  My fingers ball into fists at my sides, and nine months of hurt and loneliness rises to the surface, nearly choking me.

  “What do you want, Liam?” I use his given name, building the barricade between us, because I know how much he hates it.

  He takes a step towards me and I have to tilt my chin to look up at him. I have to look away or I know I’ll back in his arms.

  “To help.” He pulls out a brown envelope, the same one Colin tried to give me this morning, and places it on the coffee table.

  “Like I told Colin, I don’t need any help.” My hands shake when I pick up the damn envelope and shove it back at him. “From him or from you.”

  His fingers tighten around the money, knuckles whitening. “I’m sorry he hurt you.”

  My gaze jerks to his.

  What?

  “He didn’t hurt me.”

  You hurt me.

  I can see the patience he’s been trying to hold onto slowly slipping away. He glances around the apartment and his expression turns hard, judging.

  “Don’t do that,” I warn.

  “What?”

  “Judge me. Just because I don’t ha
ve a lot doesn’t mean I’m not capable of—”

  “Would you stop being so damn stubborn.” Eyes blazing, he removes the distance between us. “You may not want anything, but you need it.” He ignores my protest and places one hand on my arm, the other hesitantly grazes across my stomach. “I’m not going to let you do this alone.”

  My breath catches in my throat at the contact, at the tenderness in his touch.

  I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek, knowing he’s right. Every night I fall asleep wondering how I’m going to do this on my own. I’ve thought about moving in with my mom, but her place is already crammed and she’s struggling herself.

  “I don’t need your help,” I mumble. This time my words come out with less conviction.

  “I know you’re more than capable of raising a kid on your own.” His hand, warm and steady rests possessively on my belly, his other tilts my chin so that I’m forced to look at him. “But you don’t have to.”

  Hope. It flitters across my skin, making the butterflies that are always too quick to take flight whenever he’s around, dance in my chest.

  A sharp knock on the door makes me jump and Thunder scowl.

  “Ms. Harper. I know you’re in there. Open up.” the muffled voice of my landlady makes me flinch.

  Shit. Not now.

  “Who’s that?” Thunder frowns at the door.

  “Ms. Harper.” More knocking.

  Of all the bad timing.

  Thunder’s eyes are narrowed on me now. “Kennedy?”

  Without an explanation, I turn and unlock the door, greeted by a red-faced woman with curlers pinned tight against her scalp.

  “Your rent is late. Again.” The woman’s shrill voice is loud enough for Thunder to hear, and I feel my cheeks start to burn in embarrassment.

  “I know,” I say quietly, hoping she’ll lower her voice. “I’m sorry. If you just give me until Friday…”

  “It was due a week ago.” A knobby finger points at me. “This isn’t a charity.”

  “I don’t have it now, but if you’ll just–”

  “It’ll be paid by the end of the day.” Thunder says behind me. “Along with a written termination of her lease.”

  “What? No, I—”

  The look he gives me stops my protest.

  My landlady snubs her nose at him. “We have a three-month policy.”

  “I’m sure the Department of Health would be interested in the numerous health code violations I’ve counted since being here.” Somehow, he’s managed to position himself in front of me, and I can’t see Mrs. Rose’s expression, only hear her sputtering.

  I place my hand on his arm, trying to stop him before he gets me kicked out of here. “Thunder…”

  He ignores my protest and continues, “The apartment will be vacated by the end of the week. I’d suggest you take care of the black mold around the windowsills before renting it out again.”

  He closes the door hard, then turns back to me, expression unreadable.

  Damn him.

  “What did you just do?”

  “You’re not staying here.”

  “And where the hell am I supposed to go? I can barely afford this place. I won’t be able to…” With the cost of the prenatal appointments, the truth is I can’t afford it here. But I can’t tell him that. “God. You can be such an ass.”

  He grunts. “You’re going to stay with me.”

  I’m pretty sure my mouth hangs open as I watch him pull out my old suitcase from the closet and throw it on the futon.

  When he opens my dresser, and starts pulling out my clothes, I finally snap out of my initial shock.

  “No.” I grab the clothes he’s tossed into the suitcase and move to put them back in the dresser, but he’s already pulled out another pile. “Damn it, Thunder. Stop.”

  He goes still, but there’s a stubborn tilt to his chin that tells me he isn’t going to listen to whatever I have to say.

  “I can’t move in with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…” I run my hands over my face and shake my head. “Because I can’t.”

  He grunts, and grabs another pile of clothes. “Not good enough.”

  Blocking his path to the suitcase, I stand in front of him. “You’re acting ridiculous. I haven’t seen or heard from you in months, and you come in here acting like…”

  Like I actually mean something to him.

  I take a deep, calming breath, and try to refocus.

  “Listen. I know you think you need to do this. But you don’t. I’ll take the money if that’ll make you happy.”

  Face stone cold, his gaze bores into me. “Too late. The offers void.”

  “Oh my God, you’re insufferable. You can’t just demand that I move in with you. This is exactly why I didn’t want you to know.”

  I bite my tongue on the words.

  His nostrils flare, and he looks away for a brief second. When he finally meets my gaze again, my breath catches in my throat at the emotion I see there.

  Hurt.

  Anger.

  Frustration.

  He shakes his head mouth tightening. “You shouldn’t have kept this from me. If I’d known...”

  “I’m sorry,” I mumble, sitting down on the kitchen chair. I’d tried calling him more than once, but he’d never returned my calls. And it wasn’t exactly something I wanted to share through text or email.

  Silence hangs heavy between us. Both caught up in our own thoughts.

  “Things are only going to get more expensive.” Thunder leans against the dresser, arms folded across his chest. “What’re you going to do when you can’t work?”

  His words only confirm my own fears. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m not just thinking about you.” He pauses, before saying, “Maybe you should do the same.”

  “That’s not fair.” I want to be angry at his harsh assessment, but I know he’s right. I have another person to think about now.

  “I’ve got a three thousand square foot apartment that’s barely being used. You can stay there, rent-free, for as long as you want. No conditions. No expectations.” His thumbs link in the pocket of his jeans. “It’ll give you time to save and figure out what you want.”

  What I want?

  What I want is standing in front of me, but that’s not an option.

  “This isn’t a good idea.” I can hear the reservation in my voice slowly slipping, because there’s a part of me that wants to believe it could work

  I mean what could possibly go wrong? I’ve only been half in love with the man since I was sixteen. What happens when he brings other women home? Or when he realizes that this is too much, and needs his space?

  He’s watching me, his gaze dark and intense.

  “You’re sure you want this?” I ask. “It’s not going to be easy, having a newborn around. It might interfere with your… personal life.”

  “I’ll adjust.”

  But will I?

  For the child I’m carrying, I have to try.

  Standing, I give a small nod. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” One brow pulls up.

  “I’ll move in with you.” Even as I say it, I know I’ll regret it.

  The look he gives me makes my knees go weak, because there’s more than just triumph in his eyes, there’s something else. Something I can’t put my finger on.

  Something dark.

  Intense.

  Full of promise.

  A reminder of the one night we shared.

  I lean in, mesmerized by the pale blue eyes that search mine, and a familiar feeling tugs at my chest.

  A hard kick snaps me back to reality, and I place my hands over my belly, forcing that dangerous train of thoughts aside. Thunder’s gaze follows the movement and his expression changes once again.

  He turns quickly before I have a chance to read whatever mood he’s in now.

  Yeah, this is a very big mistake.

  Chapter 5

  Kenned
y

  Nine Months Earlier…

  “Get off the couch.” I click the remote, turning off the seventy-inch screen, and glance around the penthouse apartment that looks more like a dumping ground with its beer bottles, pizza boxes and empty chip bags. “We’re going out.”

  Thunder looks up at me, blue eyes not amused. “I’m fine where I am.”

  “Right.” I cross my arms and sigh. “Suffocating in Cheetos and self-pity. Sounds fun.”

  He grunts and moves slowly off the couch, his body still stiff from the injury from his last fight, when one bad kick ended up shattering his kneecap and breaking his femur straight through the bone.

  Three months rehab, and the doctors are still uncertain if he’ll ever regain full mobility in the leg.

  Thunder stretches his arms over his head, and the hem of his black t-shirt pulls up, exposing the bottom row of sculpted, mouth-watering abs. I hate that he can eat the way he does and still look like that. One week on a pizza and chip diet and I’d gain ten pounds.

  But not Thunder. After everything, the man is still built like he belongs on the cover of a men’s health magazine. Which he had been. I blush just thinking about those pictures.

  If he hadn’t started dating the editor of the magazine soon after, I may have just thrown caution to the wind and confessed every naughty little thought I’d had about him since I’d hit puberty.

  His gaze narrows on me, and I swear he can read my mind.

  Friends, I remind myself. Anything more and I’m just asking for trouble. The man isn’t built for relationships. In fact, I’m pretty sure he hasn’t been in a relationship that lasted more than a few months.

  But then neither have I. Sure, I’ve had sex. There’ve been a couple of guys I’ve dated, but the minute things turned serious, I ended it. Because in the back of my mind I’m always comparing them to Thunder.

  The ache I feel when I’m around him is almost painful. My body begs for his touch, even though my mind knows it would only end badly.

  Still, it doesn’t stop me from fantasizing about what his body would feel like against mine. The taste of his lips, the smell of his skin, and the rush of being filled by him completely.