Altered: Carter Kids #6

by Chloe Walsh

  She'd made that perfectly clear.

  When her gaze finally landed on me, slumped at the bar, she made a beeline for me, dodging the crowds of people filling the dancefloor.

  "Hey," she whispered, finally reaching my side.

  "Hay is for horses, HC," I grumbled before taking a slug from my beer.

  Her smell was all around me. Floral, with a hint of coconut and strawberries… Hell, I couldn’t describe it. I only knew that it haunted me – just like she did.

  "So you've told me before," she replied softly. She took the stool next to me and, angling her body so that she was facing me, she said, "I've missed you so much."

  "Have you?" I replied flatly. "Thought you'd be too busy patching up the wounded one to think about me."

  "Don’t be like that."

  "Why not?" I demanded, turning to face her. "You know, every time I think I'm gonna be okay, you walk back into my world and crush me like a fucking fly. And it's my own goddamn fault, because I don’t have the strength to walk away from you. Because I had the fucking misfortune of falling in love with a married woman." I took another sip of beer to calm my temper before hissing, "You're everywhere! In my thoughts. In my dreams. In my waking fucking hours. How the hell am I supposed to ever get over you when you won't let me?"

  "Don’t get over me," she shot back, tone heated. "Because I'm not getting over you. Ever."

  "Goddamn, HC." I shook my head and exhaled a ragged sigh. "God fucking dammit."

  Slumping forward, I grabbed the tumbler of Jack and tossed it back, reveling in the burning sensation, as the whiskey blazed a trail from my throat to my stomach.

  "Do you have any fucking idea of how deeply I'm drowning in blood for you?" Lowering my voice so only she could hear me, I hissed, "My hands?" I stared down at them. They were clean now. But for how long? How long until the next phone call came? "You should have come with a warning label," I muttered dejectedly. "Would've kept a helluva lot of folk out of the ground."

  "These hands?" she whispered. My heart hammered violently against my ribcage as I watched one of her small hands cover mine. "The hands that saved my life?"

  "Don’t try and paint it pretty, sweetheart," I countered. "I'm not a good man."

  "You're wrong," she countered, not letting go of my hand when I tried to pull away from her. "You are wrong," she repeated, tone passionate. She lifted my hand in hers and pressed a kiss to my torn knuckles. "You are a good man with a brilliant mind, and a beautiful heart.

  I watched her watch me, the intensity in her gaze almost too much to take. I couldn’t take this anymore.

  It was too fucking much.

  I felt too much.

  My body was on fire.

  My heart was kicking the shit out of me.

  She was wrecking me.

  Every smile gave me a slither of empty hope.

  She was promising me an unattainable future with every stroke from her fingertips.

  Unable to handle the emotions battering through me, I snatched my hand away. "Don’t do that," I warned her, tone slurred and shaken. "Don’t lie."

  I could feel my resolve wavering.

  She was doing that to me.

  She was making me weak.

  "I know who you are, Hunter. I see the real you." Hope looked up at me with those searing blue eyes and said, "And I love everything I see. I love you–"

  "Don’t fucking say it," I warned her. Without breaking eye contact, I grabbed my glass and pressed it to my lips, enjoying the scorching burn as the whiskey trickled down the back of my throat. "Don’t tell me you love me when you're sleeping in his bed tonight."

  ****

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Hope

  I wasn't the type of woman who ended up at bars like this.

  Bars that condoned drugs, fighting, violence.

  Bars that were filled with dangerous people.

  And this place was packed to the brim with the scariest kinds of people.

  My heart had led me into the lion's den, and I was quite aware that I was in over my head in this place. But I didn’t care.

  This was where he was, and I needed to be where he was.

  "I'm so fucking in love with you," Hunter slurred. The stench of whiskey on his breath was potent. "And it hurts." I watched as he tipped the glass back and swallowed down another shot of Jack. "So fucking much."

  His earlier words had hurt.

  But like always, he had spoken nothing but the truth.

  Problem was, that was his truth.

  Not mine.

  One look at Hunter's face, and I could tell that he'd been hustling.

  The cuts above his eyebrow and his bottom lip were proof of that. One of his cheekbones sported a nasty purple bruise, but he was in one piece – which assured me that whoever had put those marks on him wasn’t.

  "Hunter," I whispered, placing my hand on his, not caring who was watching us. "Don’t do this." I felt him stiffen beneath my touch, but I didn’t pull away.

  He stared hard at our joined hands on the counter of the bar. "Me?" He shook his head and slapped the glass down on the counter before sliding off the bar stool. "Do you enjoy hurting me?" he demanded in low growl. "Is that it? Do you get some sick sense of self-worth knowing that you have two men willing to do anything for you?"

  "No," I strangled out, appalled. "Of course not."

  "No." He shook his head and exhaled a ragged breath. He stared down at me for the longest moment before letting out a humorless laugh. "I'm not doing this with you. Not tonight."

  My eyes followed his every move. Raising his hand, he stroked the scar on my cheek with his thumb and said, "I'll be seeing you, Hope Carter."

  "Hunter!" I called out when he broke free from my grasp and turned away, melding into the crowd. "Wait." Scrambling down from the bar stool I'd been sitting, I shoved past the hordes of drunks in my bid to get to him.

  I managed to catch up with him midway on the dancefloor. Catching a hold of his hand, I pulled him to a stop. His body tensed up, my touch fucking with his head no doubt, but he didn’t look back.

  "Walk away, Hope," he said in a low, gruff tone, keeping his back to me.

  I couldn’t.

  I honest to god couldn’t.

  And I hated myself for it.

  Heart racing, I pushed on and moved until my chest was flush to his back. "Don’t go," I whispered.

  Reaching around, I pressed the palm of my hand to his hard stomach. "But if you do go, then please take me with you."

  "Goddamn, HC," he groaned. I could feel the heat emanating from him.

  He was burning me up.

  I was feeling it, too.

  The pull.

  The burn.

  The need.

  Halsey & G-Eazy's latest collaboration Him and I was blasting from the speakers, and the lyrics wrapped around my heart like a painful reminder.

  "You really wanna do this?" he growled, keeping his back to me. Running a hand through his hair, he exhaled heavily. "I've got nothing left to lose here, sweetheart. You're the one with the husband."

  I wasn’t proud of what I was doing to this man, but I was too selfish to give him up.

  "I want to do whatever you do," I replied, lowering my hand to the buckle of his belt. "Just take me with you."

  "Fuck!" Hunter let out a low snarl before spinning around and dragging my body flush to his. Cupping the back of my neck with one large hand, he whispered, "I'm not making the first move this time. I'm not putting myself out there for you to cut me down again."

  "I'm sorry," I whispered. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I reached up on my tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the curve of his jaw.

  "You hit me like a fucking hurricane, Hope Carter," he groaned, seconds before slamming his lips against mine.

  Unable to do anything but kiss him back, I closed my eyes and absorbed the fucking fabulous feeling of being in his arms again, as his big body swayed against mine.

  I could feel every
thick inch of him as he thrust his hips against me.

  He hid nothing from me.

  He was offering me all he was and I wanted to take it.

  The smell of whiskey, nicotine, and mint on his breath flooded me, drowning me in all things Hunter Casarazzi.

  I was so in love with him.

  It wouldn’t matter who walked into this bar and caught us.

  There was no force strong enough to pull me away from this man.

  Every flick of his tongue, every thrust of his hips, assured me that he was missing me just as much as I was missing him.

  He was messy and reckless, knotting his hands in my hair, hands roaming down my back, cupping my ass tightly.

  He didn’t care and, because he didn’t, I couldn’t find it in me to care either.

  I was taking a leaf from his book.

  I was following his lead.

  I knew that I was being selfish. The truth sickened me, but the feeling eased when I was with him. And when he kissed me? I knew the love I received from this man was worth it all.

  I could feel the cool metal casing of his gun as I ran my hands down his back.

  He was carrying.

  The holster strapped to his body, the one that was hidden beneath his clothes, should have been proof to me how dangerous he was.

  But when I was with him, I felt the safest I ever had.

  Breaking the kiss, Hunter grabbed my hand and dragged me through the crowds and out of the bar. The minute we reached the sidewalk, he was on me again, hands wrapped around my shoulders as he backed me into the nearest dark alleyway.

  "Kiss me," I breathed, sagging when my back hit the cold, hard concrete with a hard thump.

  "No," he snarled, mouth inches from mine. "You want me? You mother-fucking kiss me."

  So I did.

  Reaching up, I plunged my hands into his blond mane and dragged his face down to mine. The moment our lips reconnected, a feeling of elicit excitement tore through my body, causing a moan to escape my lips, and my heart to scream in delight.

  The stubble of his jaw scratched against my face, and I loved it.

  This was real.

  He was real.

  "I fucking love you, Hunter," I strangled out, nipping and biting at his lips, unable to control the hunger I had inside of me – the sheer desire I felt for this man. "Don’t you dare leave me again."

  "And what – stay here and watch you play happy couples with him?" he hissed, punishing my lips with his, as he rammed his body roughly against mine. "You wanna see me burn, HC?"

  Digging my nails into his scalp, I yanked roughly on his hair and hissed, "Stay."

  "Leave him," he growled before plunging his tongue into my mouth. He was rough and careless as he cupped my throat with his large hand and pressed me to the wall.

  I was instantly wet; my heart, body, soul and, most importantly, my mind wanting every minute of this.

  "Where are you parked?" he demanded, lips still crushed to mine.

  "Around back," I breathed. "In the parking lot."

  And then we were moving. With his hand wrapped firmly around mine, he led me through the alleyway into the dimly lit parking lot at the back of the bar. Several cars were parked in the area, but there was no one there, not that it would have mattered in this moment.

  Hurrying to keep up with his long strides, I dragged my keys out of the brown, leather crossover purse I had on and quickly pressed the button to unlock my Rover.

  With forceful, determined strides, Hunter walked straight over to my truck and yanked open one of the back-passenger doors. Turning to face me, he growled, "Get in."

  I didn’t hesitate, climbing in quickly, heart hammering in my chest the entire time.

  The moment I was inside, he was right there with me, slamming the door closed behind us.

  And then he was on me; his powerful body weighing down heavily on mine, pressing me deep into the cool leather of the backstreet.

  Groaning against his mouth when I felt him hitch my dress up around my thighs, I could do nothing but let my legs fall open. Hooking my fingers into his jean loops, I tugged him closer, needing to feel him all over me.

  Needing only him.

  Growling, he clamped his hands on my waistline and leaned closer. The smell of whiskey on his breath was pungent. The cuts and bruises marring his face looked fresh and nasty, but he didn’t seem to care, so I wasn’t about to be gentle.

  Holding himself above me, Hunter hooked his fingers into my panties, and dragged them down my legs with expert precision while never breaking our kiss.

  Taking the hem of his shirt in one hand, I bunched it upwards and placed my free hand against his warm, muscular stomach before gently scraping my nails over his flesh. "What's this?" I asked, when my fingers landed on a huge jagged welt on his side.

  "Nothing."

  Unsatisfied with his nonchalant response, I pushed his chest with my hands and clambered onto my knees, facing him. Without a word, I reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

  "It's nothing?" I hissed, eyes locked on the four-inch flesh wound on his lower stomach. "Somebody stabbed you."

  It wasn’t a question.

  It was a statement, and a valid one from the look of the sliced skin.

  "I wasn’t stabbed," he shot back with a growl. "I was nicked."

  "Why?"

  He cocked a brow. "Told you I'd take care of that fucked up grandfather of yours." He shrugged. "Gotta get my hands dirtied to do it."

  Without thinking twice about it, I placed my hand on the area. "Does it hurt?"

  Hunter grunted front the contact, and dropped his head to rest against mine. "I've had worse." He covered my hand with his and pressed harder, wincing from the pressure. "Don’t stop."

  I cocked a brow, eyes locked on where our hands were joined on his blood smeared skin. "I'm hurting you."

  "You're always hurting me," he growled, not letting up on the pressure. "What's another scar?"

  "You've scarred me, too," I breathed, not caring that his blood was trickling down my fingers. With my free hand, I reached up and knotted my fingers in his hair. "You've marked me all over," I added before dragging his face down to mine. "Every part of me."

  "Good," he hissed, nipping at my lips almost violently. "I hope it hurts."

  His lips crashed against mine then, tongues dueling almost viciously, setting alight a frenzy of emotions and sensations inside of my body – inside of my heart.

  Blood, pain, and the bitter and twisted love we shared crushed together as our bodies melded together.

  Nothing made sense anymore.

  The only thing that shone clearly in this dark and fucked up world we had fallen into were our feelings for each other.

  Nothing else mattered.

  Needing him inside me more than I needed my next breath, I quickly undid the fly of his jeans and released him. His cock fell heavily into my hand, hard as rock and pulsing with need.

  Wrapping my hand around him, I pulled roughly, reveling in delight when he groaned into my mouth.

  Moving purely on instinct, I scooted off the seat, landing clumsily on my knees in the tiny space between the seats.

  "Shit, HC," Hunter grunted. "Are you ok–oh shit…"

  He jerked in surprise as I took him in my mouth, tasting every inch of his thick, erect cock. My heart hammered in my chest; the feel of heat and warmth and man in my mouth causing havoc to my nervous system.

  I was making him lose control.

  I could feel it in the small rigid movements he made when he let himself go for the briefest of moments and thrust hard and recklessly inside my mouth.

  I moaned loudly, lapping every drop of pre-cum that trickled from the crown of his impressive cock. This man had been put on earth to make women writhe in pleasure.

  He was so fucking good at it, it was almost painful.

  The way he prolonged my orgasms, making them roll into one after the other until I was a trembling mess beneat
h him.

  His balls tightened in my hand as I cupped him, and sucked him deeper into my throat.

  My urge to please him should have been worrying, but right now, in the frame of mind I was in, all I could think of was getting him off.

  Of making him come.

  Of giving him more than any other woman had before me.

  "Keep this up and there's no going back," he whispered. "I mean it, Hope."

  I didn’t stop.

  I wanted to keep it up.

  I wanted him to never leave me.

  As irrational and crazy as it sounded, I wanted to fall into this man and never come back out.

  He ripped himself away from me and I panted, breathless and confused. "Why'd you stop?"

  A low growl tore from deep in his throat as he dragged me off the floor.

  Seconds later, I was the on the flat of my back again, my spine jackknifing as he spread kisses up the inside of my thighs.

  His lips were soft, his stubble scratchy and ticklish. Nothing could compare to the feel of him.

  Nuzzling against him, I suckled on his taut flesh. I knew that was his weak spot, that small slither of skin on his collar bone. The low growl of approval that tore from his throat caused my clit to throb with anticipation.

  Jolts of pure, unadulterated pleasure ricocheted through every inch of my body when his tongue found my clit.

  Suckling me.

  Nipping me.

  Kissing me.

  Killing me.

  I was shaking like an ivy leaf.

  Desire and need were sparring inside of my body as Hunter touched me in ways that should have been illegal.

  Our bodies were burning from the heat of our passion.

  Arousal roared to life inside of my body as he put the pieces of my battered heart back together with every flick of his tongue.

  Leaving me hanging at the brink of orgasm, Hunter cupped my ass with one hand and dragged me forward to the edge of the seat.

  And then he was inside me, slamming into me so hard I could do nothing but hold onto his shoulders and pray I survived the ride.

  He fucked me hard and rough and I loved every minute of it.