Thunderstruck

By Carter Blake

I'm a fighter. A dark knight. The bad boy with a hard edge and even harder punch. But Kennedy's never seen me as more than a friend.

I've known her my entire life. She's practically family. So why the hell can't I control my thoughts around her? I've got a lineup of girls that are more than happy to jump into my bed.

Meaningless sex - It should be enough. But it's not. Not when there's Kennedy.

I promised myself years ago that no one would ever hurt me again. But this girl has the power to destroy me - because I'm not the Forester brother that she wants.

That changes now.

She's in trouble.

And when I'm done with her, she won't just be mine, she'll finally be thunderstruck.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carter Blake
• Release date: Sep 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201252717

Book preview

Prologue

Thunder

Sixteen Years Old

---

The air ripples between us.

A spark of energy. A sizzle of light.

I promised myself years ago that no one would ever hold the power to hurt me. But this girl has the power to destroy me.

It’s cold out here. Kennedy shivers and rubs her bare arms.

Here. I tug off my hoodie, then help her into it.

She’s tiny, barely coming up to my chin, and the sweatshirt is huge on her. I let my hands linger a little longer than I should.

Thanks, she says, looking up at me. The nervous tension between us is palpable.

It’s almost midnight. You don’t want to miss the fireworks. At least that’s my excuse for dragging her out here, away from the New Year’s Eve party her parents are hosting inside. What I really want to do is pull her into my arms and crush my lips against hers.

Not happening.

We should be able to see them from here. I pull away and take a sip of the beer I stole from my father's stash.

When I offer her one, she scrunches her nose up at it, instead snuggling into the warmth of my sweatshirt. Her eyes go wide when she notices the new ink covering my forearms. Oh my God. Is that real?

Yeah. I grin, proud of the web of patterns I designed myself.

Your dad let you?

Like he cares, I sneer, which isn’t exactly true. He beat the shit out of me when he saw it.

How? She takes my arm in her hands and begins tracing the patterns.

Almost instantly, I’m rock hard.

Three hundred dollars and a fake ID. I shrug, like it’s not a big deal, like her touch doesn’t send a thousand bolts of electricity pulsating through my body.

It’s… she bites her lip, fingers still playing across the ink, sending more sparks of heat thrumming through my veins, beautiful.

I lean in, mesmerized by her perfect mouth, and wanting nothing more than to taste those lips.

Beautiful, I murmur, brushing a lock of blonde hair off her cheek and tucking it behind her ear.

So fucking beautiful.

That’s what she is.

And so much more.

Kind.

Sweet.

Pure.

All the things I’m not.

I’ve known Kennedy Harper my entire life. She’s practically family. So why the hell can’t I control my thoughts around her?

Ten, nine, eight… Inside, people start the count down to the New Year. …seven, six, five…

I drain the last of my beer, then place it on the railing.

…four, three, two…

In the distance, the first flashes of light brighten up the night sky.

Kennedy stands against the railing, and I move behind her. When she shivers, I go against all common sense, and pull her back towards me, wrapping my arms around her body, and leaning down so that my head rests on top of hers.

I dip my head towards hers, breathing in the scent of her; watching her eyes light up as the fireworks go off.

She leans back into me, like she wants my touch.

I should step away, but instead I press in closer. I’m so far out of my comfort zone with all these emotions twisting in my chest.

I’ve got a lineup of girls that are more than happy to jump into my bed. Meaningless sex. It should be enough. But it’s not. Not when there’s Kennedy.

Happy New Year. I murmur in her ear and feel a small tremble go through her body.

She turns slightly, her mouth parted as if she’s about to say something, but before she can utter a word, my lips are on hers.

Just a single touch.

Soft.

Gentle.

But it’s enough to rock my world—or destroy it.

Liam. My father’s rough, slurred voice barks out behind me.

Fuck. I push Kennedy away from me a little too roughly, and her fingers go instantly to her mouth, eyes wide.

I should never have touched her.

She’s off limits. I don’t need him, the asshole who’s now staring at me with murder in his bloodshot eyes, reminding me I’m no good for her. Because I know it’s the truth.

Kennedy looks up at me like she doesn’t know what she should do.

Go inside. My tone is cold, harsh, because I know what the single kiss is going to cost me.

She blinks, not moving, like she’s still trying to decide if she should leave me. She knows my father’s temper. Not the full extent of it—but she’s seen the bruises, heard his vicious words.

Liam? she says softly, concern in her hazel eyes. She’s the only person who uses my real name without causing my stomach to curdle.

I prefer the nickname the boys down at the gym started calling me after my first fight—Thunder. A single blow to the temple knocked my opponent out ten seconds into the first round.

At just sixteen, grown men tremble when I walk into the ring.

Yet here I am, ten consecutive wins later, and I’m still scared of the man staring daggers at me now. Every second Kennedy stands there, a shield between us, I know his anger grows.

Go, I growl, then lean closer so that only she can hear. That shouldn’t have happened. Understand?

A small nod is her only response, but I can see the tears gathering in her eyes.

Shit.

When Kennedy is gone, my father stumbles towards me. He grips my t-shirt in his fists and shoves me up against the side of the house. I’ve told you to keep your hands off her.

I could easily dart out of his grasp; instead I stand there and accept the first shot, a blow to my ribs.

Pain splinters through my chest, and I cough out a rough breath.

Fuck.

He’s still sober enough to make each hit count.

I’ve learned from experience that the more I fight back, the worse the beating.

Could I take him? Yeah, I could kill the motherfucker. But then what? The asshole is still my father, and for another five months, he’s the roof over my head.

She’s too fucking good for scum like you. His breath reeks of beer, and spittle hits my face when he hisses out each word.

I don’t need him reminding me. I know he’s right. Everything I touch I destroy. Kennedy would