Thunderstruck: An MMA Bad Boy Romance Page 4

  I bite down on my lip, and mute the groan that vibrates in my throat.

  “What?” He’s watching me, expression hard.

  “Nothing,” I mumble, reaching down to pick up the empty pizza box that’s beside the couch. “I just thought we could go out tonight. There’s a cute little Sushi bar that just opened on the corner of Richmond, we can check it out, then catch a movie.”

  “I’m sure they have delivery and I get every new release right here.”

  This has been our same argument every day for the last couple of weeks. Me coming over after work. Him scowling at my suggestion that he needs to find something more productive to do than watch Netflix all day. And finally, me giving in, and spending the next four hours binge-watching the latest reality TV show, and eating way too much junk food.

  Maybe I should just go. We’ve been spending so much time together lately that I’m starting to confuse this thing between us as something more than what it is.

  “You’re upset,” he says, watching me.

  I shake my head and place the pizza box on the coffee table.

  He moves closer, his gaze trained on mine. I hate when he does that. It makes my legs feel like rubber, and my hands start to sweat.

  Sometimes I think he knows what he does to me, that he’s just toying with me, waiting for me to finally give in to the temptation.

  One kiss.

  One night.

  Would it really change things that much?

  “Your head’s spinning again.” He takes my chin between his thumb and finger and forces me to look up at him.

  The heat of his touch explodes through my entire body, making my thighs clench; my pussy tightens with need.

  Damn him.

  “What are you worried about?”

  “You.” I take a small step back, needing the space to recoup my thoughts.

  Always you.

  “You don’t have to worry about me.” His hand drops to his side, and his expression hardens. He moves around the couch, and heads to the kitchen. “In fact, you’ll be happy to know that I took your advice and I got a job.”

  “A job?” I frown at his back, when he reaches into the fridge and pulls out two beers, uncapping one and handing it to me. “Doing what?”

  “Writing for Sports Weekly.”

  “Oh.” I take a deep chug of my beer. The same damn magazine that his ex runs.

  Jennifer Flynn.

  The woman is a fake as the silicon boobs she’s always flaunting. I don’t know much about their relationship, only that what the tabloids reported.

  I’ve tried my best not to torture myself with his long list of revolving women.

  Thunder tilts his head and leans against the fridge. “I thought you’d be happy.”

  “I am,” I lie, finishing the rest of the bottle, and placing it on the counter. “When do you start?”

  “Monday.”

  My mouth drops open. “In three days?”

  “Yeah.” He pulls another beer from the fridge and hands it to me.

  “Were you going to talk to me about it?” I hate that I sound like a jealous girlfriend.

  He doesn’t answer, just keeps staring at me like I’m some sort of puzzle he can’t figure out.

  “What?” I snap.

  With slow, deliberate movements, he places his bottle on the counter beside me, and moves closer. So close that I have to strain my neck to look up at him.

  “You drive me crazy, you know that?” He places his hands on either side of me, gripping the edge of the counter I’m leaning against, and leans down so that we’re nose to nose.

  I swallow hard.

  Kiss me. Please.

  He keeps staring at me with those smoldering blue eyes of his that make my entire body tremble with need.

  Does he feel it? Does he know how much I want him?

  My cell lets out a trill series of notes, making me jump and breaking the moment.

  Thunder exhales harshly and pushes away, then grabs his beer and chugs the remaining contents.

  Hands shaking, I pull my phone from my back pocket.

  “It’s Colin.” I clutch the still ringing phone, not knowing if I should answer it in front of him.

  Thunder grunts, and his nostrils flare, the way they always do when I mention his brother’s name.

  “You better answer it then.” His lips pull up in a scowl and I frown.

  “I’ll call him back later.”

  Another deep grunt, and he turns his back on me, pulling a second beer from the fridge.

  His mood has done a complete one-eighty.

  “You should call him.” I wrap my arms around my chest, suddenly feeling a chill through my whole body. Maybe it’s the way Thunder’s looking at me now, or because even though he’s gone from hot to cold, I still crave his touch. “He’s worried about you.”

  A dark chuckle. “Is that why he’s calling you? To check up on me?”

  “No. He asked me to meet him in L.A. if they make it to the playoffs. I’ve never been and—”

  “Are you going?” There’s a harshness to his tone he doesn’t usually use with me.

  I shrug, knowing I probably won’t use the plane ticket he sent me. I hate flying, and Colin will be busy with his game, and then the team stuff afterwards. Still, I’ve always wanted to see the West Coast. Maybe try surfing. Or just walk down Hollywood Boulevard.

  “I don’t know. It might be fun.”

  “Right.” Thunder drags his fingers through his hair, and lets out a heavy breath.

  “Anyways, you’ll be working by then.” I try to hide the tension in my voice, but I’m pretty sure I fail miserably. “I’m going to need to find something other than babysitting you to occupy my time.”

  That gets a reaction.

  The sound that vibrates from his chest sounds more like a wild animal than human. “Is that what you’ve been doing? Babysitting me?”

  “It was just a joke.” Which obviously wasn’t funny.

  “Trust me, sweetheart. I don’t need you hanging around here for my sake. I’m perfectly capable of living my life without you hovering over me twenty-four-seven.”

  His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I bite the inside of my cheek hard, to try to keep my emotions from turning me into a babbling mess, which right now I'm on the brink of.

  “I’m going to go.” I brush past him, wanting desperately for him to stop me, and hating myself for it.

  He curses under his breath, but he doesn’t follow or call after me.

  Just lets me walk away.

  No one has ever been able to hurt me like Thunder. One harsh word, and it’s like I’m sixteen again, rejected by the only boy I’ve ever really cared about.

  This is the problem with confusing our relationship as anything more than friendship. He has the power to crush my heart without even knowing it.

  Chapter 6

  Kennedy

  Present

  Thunder places my suitcase on the bed in the guestroom, then takes a step back and drags his fingers through his hair.

  “Do you need anything?”

  Space.

  Time.

  Him.

  I shake my head.

  “I’ll have the rest of your stuff picked up later this week. Just let me know what you want brought here and what you want put in storage.”

  “Okay.” There’s an awkwardness between us that’s never been there before. “I should unpack.”

  He gives a small nod, but doesn’t move. Just continues to look all dark, brooding, and incredibly sexy.

  I have no idea what he’s thinking. Maybe he’s having second thoughts about bringing me here.

  “Thunder?” My voice holds an edge of frustration.

  “Yeah?” His gaze jerks to mine, brows drawn down, nostrils flared.

  “You’re still here.”

  “Sorry. I’ll go. Let you get settled.” With some hesitation, he starts towards the door, rubbing the back of his neck. At the last s
econd, he turns, and pierces me with a Thunder-look. The one that looks like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. “You sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m fine.” It’s not exactly the truth, but it’s all I can offer right now.

  I can’t cry anymore today, and if I start to open up, even a little bit, I know I won’t be able to control the emotions that sizzle and fizz inside of me.

  With a heavy sigh, he turns and leaves.

  I sit down on the edge of the bed and look around.

  Everything is exactly how it was the last time I was here, and yet nothing is the same.

  One stupid mistake and my whole world is flipped on its axis, spinning out of control towards an unknown end.

  This will work. It may not be the way I’d hoped or planned, but having Thunder in my life again—it’s something.

  I pull out my laptop and plug it in, then pull up the first draft of the manuscript I’ve been working on.

  Two hundred and sixty-five pages done. The only thing it’s missing is an ending, or at least one that won’t make the reader want to toss the book across the room when they’re done.

  But no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to write the happily ever after that everyone wants.

  Because reality is, most people don’t get the fairytale endings.

  Life sucks sometimes.

  “What’s that?” Thunder is standing in the doorway watching me.

  “Just something I’ve been working on.”

  “You’re still writing?”

  “When I can.” I shrug, shutting my laptop. “It’s not very good.”

  “I doubt that. What’s it about?”

  Me. You.

  “I’m not sure yet.” When he raises an eyebrow, I continue, “It’s about friendship. Loss. Misunderstanding. You know, the whole 'girl loves a boy, the boy doesn’t love her back'”

  I bite my bottom lip, feeling my face warm.

  “How does it end?” He moves closer.

  “I don’t know. People expect the whole happily ever after in romance books, but…”

  “But what?”

  I shrug. “Sometimes things are just too complicated to fix.”

  “It’s your story. You can create whatever ending you want.”

  “Yeah.” I don’t tell him it’s not that easy. That I can’t write something I don’t believe in.

  Not everyone gets the fairytale ending, or you get the Hans Christian Anderson ending rather than the Disney one.

  He keeps watching me, and I shift nervously under his gaze.

  “I ordered Chinese. It should be here soon.”

  As if on cue, my stomach growls loud enough for him to hear.

  He frowns. “You’re too skinny.”

  My mouth drops open at his blunt appraisal, but Thunder’s never been one to sugarcoat the truth.

  I know he’s right, but it doesn’t stop my defenses from building up. I was so sick the first couple of months that I ended up losing almost fifteen pounds. I’ve only recently gained that weight back—barely.

  Still, the way he’s looking at me now, it feels like a criticism.

  “Don’t do that.”

  “What? Worry about you?”

  Act like you care. I know the thought isn’t fair. Thunder cares about me the only way he knows how. Maybe the only way he can. Is it really his fault that I put unrealistic expectations on him?

  “I’m fine.” Emotion stirs in my chest, and I have to fight back the tears that threaten to fall. “The… baby is fine.”

  But everything is not fine. And I have no idea how it ever will be again.

  I swipe at the tear that escapes.

  Stupid hormones.

  Thunder lets out a long, audible breath. “Have you seen a doctor?”

  I turn on him then. “Of course I have.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “I’m taking my prenatal vitamins. I’m not eating fish or soft cheeses, and I haven’t had a sip of alcohol since I found out. Anything else you want to know?”

  “You can’t eat fish?” A small smile tugs at his lips. “Well there goes the sushi night I was planning.”

  I hate how he can do that. Change the mood so quickly. I want to be mad at him. Or I need to be. Letting my guard down will only cause problems. I can’t take the chance of letting my heart get involved again.

  Things are complicated enough.

  “I appreciate you letting me stay here, but you can’t tell me that this isn’t weird for you too.”

  “It’s not an ideal situation. But we’ll make it work.”

  “And us?”

  “What about us?” His eyes narrow on me, searching mine.

  “We’re… fine?”

  He takes a step closer, making my heart start to race.

  “There are some things we should probably talk about.”

  Yeah, like why I’ve never been enough for you. Why you won’t take the chance on this thing between us. The thoughts pops into my head like a knife slicing open an old wound. But it’s too late now.

  We stand there watching each other, my own wounded expression mirrored in his own.

  “I tried to tell you,” I blurt out, hating the way he’s looking at me like I’m the bad guy.

  “We don’t need to do this now.”

  “Yeah. We do.” I wince, when a sharp pain slices across my belly, buckling me forward.

  His hands are on me before I can catch my breath.

  “Sit down.” One hand is on my lower back; his other takes mine, guiding me towards the bed.

  “I’m fine.”

  Concern is etched in the lines of his forehead, and I can tell he’s not convinced.

  At the moment, neither am I. I’ve had pains before, but nothing like this. Sweat beads on my upper lip and forehead and even though I don’t want to show weakness around him, I sit.

  He crouches in front of me, hands on my thighs. He looks like he’s trying hard not to go all alpha male on me.

  “I’m fine,” I repeat, giving him a half-smile that feels more forced than intended. “It’s just Braxton Hicks.”

  He frowns. “I have no idea what that means.”

  “But I’m sure you’re going to Google it,” I say lightly, which gets a small reaction, a slight twitch of his lips.

  Now that the pain has subsided, I can’t help but feel the warmth of his touch spreading through my entire body.

  His expression is still serious, and I can almost see the questions he’s holding back.

  There’s so much between us.

  So many things unsaid.

  Emotions twist and pulse, making everything seem chaotic.

  He’s right here. Touching me. And yet I feel like there’s this huge void separating us. Like we’ll never be able to get back to the people we were before.

  “I’m tired.” It’s not a lie. I’ve never felt more exhausted. Physically. Mentally. “I think I’m going to turn in.”

  “You haven’t eaten dinner.”

  “It’s been a long day, and I have to work tomorrow—”

  “No.” He stands, muscles tightening, and I can see him getting ready for another argument.

  “No?”

  “You don’t need to work. I’ll take care of everything.”

  “I only have a couple weeks left anyways, and they need me.”

  “I’m sure they can find someone to replace your shifts.” He drags his fingers over his face. “Isn’t there something about not working with animals when you’re pregnant?”

  “It’s the cat litter. And I’m careful.” I sigh. “I’m always careful.”

  His gaze drops to my stomach, and he bites out, “Right.”

  The comment is like a smack to the face, because I see the resentment in his expression. And I know what he’s thinking. That I somehow planned this. That it was my own carelessness that caused it.

  Maybe it was. But I still put out, “It takes two people to make a—”

&n
bsp; “I don’t need a reminder.” Anger rolls off him in waves, and I realize why there’s so much animosity between us.

  He blames me for what happened.

  Like this pregnancy is all my fault.

  “Would you rather I got rid of it?” My hands go protectively around my stomach.

  “Of course not.” His nostrils flare.

  “Then what? What are you so angry about?”

  “Do you really have to ask that?”

  “Apparently I do.”

  “Jesus, Kennedy. All these years…” Fingers on his temples, he pinches his eyes shut. When he opens them again, his expression is blank, like he’s taken all of his emotions and stuffed them in the deepest part of himself. “It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. Am I happy about it? No. But that doesn’t mean we can’t still be… friends?”

  The dreaded F-word.

  “Right. Friends,” I nod, even though my entire body feels numb, like once again he’s rejecting me. “It’s good to know we’re both on the same page.”

  He gives a small nod and turns to leave, but hesitates at the door.

  With his back to me, he says, “I’m going to take care of you. No matter what.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but he’s gone before I can think of the right words to say in reply.

  There was a time when I would have believed him. Trusted him completely.

  But that was before California.

  Before Jennifer Flynn.

  Chapter 7

  Thunder

  I give her space for the next couple of days. Well, as much space as my Neanderthal brain will allow.

  She’s driving me nuts with how little she’s eating.

  But despite all the little things I can’t stop worrying about, it’s good to have her here. Better than good.

  Having her around is like a drug. I know it’ll eventually destroy me, but the more I have, the more I need.

  I was bullshitting myself thinking I would be content just being friends. But I wasn’t lying when I said I’d take care of her. Nothing will change that.

  But I’m done sitting back and waiting for her to finally choose me.

  I’m ready to fight. Because the last nine months have been hell, and I’m not willing to lose her again.