Diary of a Bad Boy

by Quinn, Meghan

  Smiling to himself, he says, “That’s how your mom was. Didn’t think she was good enough to be with me, when in fact, she was the reason I was so damn happy all the time. As you know, you came along earlier than planned”—he chuckled—"and she thought she was destroying my chances at a career. Little did she know, she bolstered them. Yes, I had added responsibilities, but having you, both of you, helped drive me to do my very best. I was the lucky one.” He turns toward me and says, “The easy thing would be to give up and move on, but it’s the fight that makes the end result worth it. Don’t give up on what you want, Sutton Grace, even if you get hurt. If he has feelings for you—like he should—don’t give up trying.”

  Standing, he stretches his hands over his head and lets out a long yawn. “I’m going to call it a night. Think you can douse the fire yourself?”

  “As if you have to ask.”

  “Well, now that you’re a city girl and all, thought I might have to remind you.”

  He presses a kiss against my head as I say, “You can never take the country out of the girl, Dad.”

  “True.” He takes a step toward the house and then says over his shoulder, “We have a week left here, then you can get back to the city to that man of yours. Maybe send him a few texts while you’re here, letting him know you’re thinking about him. It’s a nice gesture.” Is he saying that from experience? “Good night, Sutton Grace. See you in the morning.”

  “See you in the morning, Dad.”

  Once he’s out of sight, I turn my attention back to the fire, staring at the dancing flames and thinking about what my dad said. He thinks the easy thing would be to give up, and that almost seems more torturous than not trying, because I don’t think getting over Roark would be very easy.

  But even with giving in earlier today, he still pushed me away, still apologized for being intimate. And again, he didn’t kiss me on the lips. Why? Are stolen—apologized-for—moments worth that?

  No. I don’t want that.

  I want him to never apologize for touching me, but to want to touch me more. I want him to have confidence that I truly, madly want him and not just his body, but his soul.

  And even though a small part of me believes it can happen, there’s a big part of me that believes no matter what I say, no matter how many times I attempt to show him how much I care, he’ll never change his mind, and I’ll be constantly fighting a losing battle.

  The realization of nothing ever happening between us hits me harder than I expected, and tears start to well up in my eyes. I wish he could see the man I see; this overwhelmingly caring dickhead, yet loyal man. I wish he could rid himself of his self-loathing and understand how happy he makes me, even when he’s teasing me, which is most of the time. The glint in his eyes and the tone in his voice reveals there’s a deeper connection between us.

  Staring at the fire, I let the tears fall, allowing myself to have this moment. I can’t hold it in any longer; it’s too consuming, too overpowering.

  Leaning forward, I rest my arms on my bent knees and then lay my chin on my arms, giving in to the sorrow, the pain, the helplessness I feel when it comes to Roark. If only he would give us a chance, if only—

  “Out here by yourself, lass?”

  Startled, I wipe my eyes quickly and whip around to see Roark standing to the side, staring at me. How on earth did I not hear him approaching? There is a pinch in his brow as he kneels to my level, his fresh soapy scent hitting me first, then his minty breath.

  “Are you crying?”

  “No.” I wipe at my eyes again, even though that’s clearly giving it away.

  His mouth quirks to the side. “Your eyes beg to differ. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Just the smoke getting to me.”

  He turns toward the fire in front of us, noticing the smoke blowing in the opposite direction. Damn wind. “Yeah, okay.” From behind him, he snags a chair and pulls it up right next to me and takes a seat, facing me completely. “Talk to me. Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I’m really confident about tomorrow.”

  “Okay, so why are you upset?”

  I press my cheek to my arms and look at him, giving him a sad smile. “Just us, that’s all.”

  “Us?” His brow lifts, and he scoots a little closer. “What about us?”

  I let out a long sigh. “My dad asked if there were any guys in my life and I told him—”

  “You didn’t tell him about me, did you?” Sheer panic crosses his face as he looks back at the house, as if my dad is about to run out on the porch, wielding a shotgun.

  “No, I wouldn’t do that, but I did casually talk about this guy I liked and told him what I was going through.”

  He frowns. “What are you going through?”

  “The ups and downs of wanting to be with you but getting nowhere.” I gaze at the fire, unable to look him in the eyes. “I like you, Roark, a lot, but I don’t know how much more I have in me to fight for what I want. I’m emotionally spent, but every time you’re around me, I can’t help but hope and wish, and pray that maybe this will be the time you give in, that this will be the time you ask me out on a date, that this will be the time you finally kiss me.” I shrug my shoulders, pressing my chin against my arms. “A girl can wish.”

  Tension fills the air as silence hits both of us. If only I was like Mel Gibson in What Women Want and could read his thoughts, then this whole tango would be so much easier. Instead, I have to sit here awkwardly and wait for him to say something, something that’s most likely going to hurt me in the long run.

  Finally, “I talked with your dad too.”

  “What?” I smile, unable to hold back the humor in the idea of us both talking to my dad about each other but never revealing who we’re really talking about. “When did you talk to him?”

  “The other day, while horseback riding. He asked me if I planned on settling at any point. Gave me an entire lecture on being a man.” Roark rubs his hand over his scruff. “It was the most honest conversation I think I’ve ever had. He made me think about a lot of things and the future I want to have, the life I want to lead.” He chuckles to himself. “Hell, in that moment, he was more of a dad to me than my father has ever been.”

  That warms my heart.

  “He’s a good man. I’m glad you could confide in him. He likes you, Roark, and only wants the best for you.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He glances at the ground. “He uh, he made me think about what’s going on between us, kind of blew up my mind.”

  “What did he say?”

  Roark folds his hands together. “Nothing you need to know, but one thing did stick out.” He nods, as if he can hear my dad saying it now. “Be a man.” His eyes meet mine, and I’m surprised to see such intensity as he stares at me. I haven’t seen this expression before. “I want to be the man you deserve, Sutton, but I’m not sure how to go about it.” He scratches the back of his neck, looking nervous. “I don’t know anything about relationships or how to care for someone. All I know is this feeling I have for you, this mind-numbing, soul-shattering feeling coursing through my body, isn’t going to go away, so I can either continue to try to fight it, or I can ask you for help.”

  “Help?” I ask, surprised as my heart stutters in my chest.

  He nods and unfolds my arms, taking one of my hands in his. “I want this, I want us, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ll need your guidance and understanding and a promise that if I fuck up, which I know I will, you’ll be patient. This is all new for me.”

  “Roark”—I press my free hand against this cheek and rub my thumb over his scruff—“we’re human, so we’re bound to screw up at some point.”

  “But I’ve never truly received love before.”

  “Well, there’s always room to learn.” I drag my thumb over his bottom lip, my body itching to be close to his. “Does this mean you want to take me out on a date?”

  A beautiful smile pulls at the edges
of his mouth. “Yeah, I think it does.”

  My happiness matches his as we both smile at each other. “And you’re not going to cock-block me anymore?”

  He nips at my thumb, causing me to laugh and pull away. “Fuck no. I don’t think my dick can take any more torture.”

  “And does this mean you’re going to quit smoking?”

  His brow pinches together. “Quit smokin’? I didn’t know that was in the plan.”

  “It is if you want in my pants.”

  “Hell.” He drags his hand over his face. “You’re going to take away all my accessories, aren’t ya? Make me a preppy boy.”

  I shake my head. “No, I want you just the way you are, asshole tendencies and all.”

  “Then why are you taking away my cigarettes?”

  “Because I want you to be able to fuck me without losing your breath.” I smile brightly at the shocked look on his face. Heck, I might be a little shocked myself.

  “Worried about my stamina, lass?”

  Casually, I shrug. “I don’t know, you sounded a little winded when you were dry-humping me.”

  “Winded?” he asks, sitting back. “You thought I was winded?” I shrug again. “I wasn’t fucking winded, I was desperate. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been for me to hold back? To not take you against a wall every time I saw you? I’ve had to control myself for weeks now, so if I was breathing hard while rubbing my thick cock along your pussy, it’s not because I was winded,” he says, his words lighting up my entire body. “It’s because I desperately wanted you.”

  Is it hot out here, or is it just me?

  I bite my bottom lip, and his eyes fall to my mouth.

  I wet my lips, and he does the same.

  I shift in my seat, and he sits on the edge of his.

  “Are you going to kiss me, Roark?”

  “I don’t know,” he says, placing his hand at the back of my neck and pulling me closer before weaving his fingers through my hair. “Do you want me to?”

  “You know I do. I’ve been waiting forever to know what it feels like to have your lips on mine.”

  “If that’s the case . . .” He nods for me to come closer and then pats his lap. “Come here, Sutton.”

  Excitement beats through my veins as I unfold from my chair and move toward him, taking the blanket with me. I drape it over my shoulders and straddle his lap, my knees falling to either side of his body. He grips the blanket and pulls it tighter around me before moving his hands to my face where he gently strokes my cheeks.

  “You’re so goddamn beautiful. I don’t know why I’ve been denying myself for so long.”

  “Oh, you know, because you’re older than I am, because my dad is your client, stupid crap like that.”

  He chuckles. “Ah, so we’re taking the mature route, I see.”

  “Just letting you know how stupid you’ve been.”

  “I guess that’s something I can count on when it comes to us.”

  Us. That makes me smile as I settle more onto his lap.

  “I like hearing you say that. Us. It feels so right.”

  “It does.” He presses his forehead against mine. “Christ, Sutton. I’m nervous.”

  “Nervous?” My hands slide up his thick chest. “Why?”

  “Because I really don’t want to screw this up.” Oh God, I could love this man. I finally feel as though I’m seeing all of him. He’s more . . . raw, less masked. How can he have so little faith in himself? It has to do with his horrible family. If only they knew the damage they’ve inflicted. It makes me so angry.

  My hand rubs over his heart. “You won’t.” I nudge his head with mine and say, “Now kiss me under the stars. Give us a moment to remember for a long time.”

  His lips part, his hand cups my jaw, tilting it back slightly right before his lips press against mine. I sigh into the connection and explore. He’s sweet at first, gliding his mouth over mine, learning his way around, and then the intensity starts to grow as he grips me tighter.

  His mouth parts and so does mine, but he doesn’t explore with his tongue yet. He softly open-mouth kisses me, keeping my head steady as he tilts his head side to side, not missing an inch of my mouth.

  I shift on his lap and he groans into my mouth, swiping his tongue across my lips, enticing me, looking for more, so I match his swipe with one of my own. The minute our tongues clash, they tangle together, and our grip on each other grows stronger, our need intensifying.

  This is so much more than I ever expected. I knew he’d be a good kisser, simply from the way he made me come on his tongue. But the contrast between soft and hard in his kisses, the way he takes charge, the taste of him in my mouth, it’s more than I thought possible. With each kiss, he’s ruining me for every other man out there… not that I want to ever kiss another man after this.

  Mouths connected, he glides his hands down my body to my hips where he holds tightly. I slowly start to rock back and forth on top of him.

  He stills me and breaks our kiss. “Not here, Sutton.”

  “Not here, what?”

  Pushing my hair behind my ear, he looks at me sweetly. “We’re not about to dry-hump in front of a fire where your dad could easily see us. We shouldn’t be doing this . . . here.”

  My brow rises in question, shocked by the goody-two-shoes vibes he’s giving me. “You’re telling me you don’t want to get caught? This coming from the guy who rarely gives two shits about anything?”

  He chuckles and grips me tighter, and that devilish smile slices through me. “If it was anyone else, I would be laying them out on the dirt right now, but it’s different with you.”

  For some reason, that doesn’t settle well with me. “Is there not enough passion between us for you to sweep me off my feet?”

  “The complete opposite,” he answers. “I would get way too lost to be able to stop if your dad came out here . . . or that douche Josh.”

  I chuckle and play with the collar of his shirt, the fire lighting up the lines in his brow. “You really don’t like him, do you?”

  “Not even a little. He’s been checking you out way too much, and he’s been really fucking handsy. I was insulted for you.”

  “Josh is a nice—”

  “Josh is a douche, end of story.”

  “Is that how this is going to be? You’re going to be a jealous fool?”

  He nods . . . unapologetically. “And you have the right to be jealous too. You know, Miss Angelica was flirting with me the other day, trying to get me to eat her biscuit.”

  I roll my eyes. “Miss Angelica is seventy-five years old, and she was trying to get you to eat her biscuits, plural. Don’t be a pervert.”

  “I don’t know, there was a certain glint in her eye that told me, if I followed her back to the kitchen, she’d show me her cupboard, if you know what I mean.”

  “You’re stupid.” I chuckle.

  He laughs too and moves his hands up my bare back. “And yet you still want to be with me.”

  “Yeah, I must be crazy.” I playfully grip his cheeks and plant a kiss on his lips. When I go to pull away, he keeps me in place and once again, his mouth locks with mine. I sigh into his hold and let him take over.

  * * *

  Blanket laid out across the meadow, the fire put out, I lie next to Roark and stare at the sky, enjoying the stars glittering above us as he keeps me warm with his arm wrapped around me. I dance my hand over his chest and snuggle in close, still a little shocked that he’s here, next to me, after the back and forth we’ve been through.

  “Do you ever see yourself moving back here?” he asks, his voice rumbling over me.

  “Maybe one day, but right now I’m focused on my career.”

  “You could really do that anywhere, so if you had to choose a place to live, where would it be?”

  I press my lips together and give it some thought. “You know, I don’t think I’m really cut out for New York City. I love the atmosphere, but a lot of time I feel out of pla
ce.”

  “You’re a country girl. You look like you’re in your element out here. The smile on your face when exercising your horses nearly brought me to my knees.”

  “Are you trying to get me to move back here?”

  “Hell no, but I can see you doing it at some point and I don’t blame you. It’s gorgeous here. I can see why your dad is excited about retirement. Life seems to slow down in the country.”

  “It’s why he loves it so much, because he feels like he has time to sit back and breathe in the fresh air. I’m excited for him to have a break from the tough schedule he’s been keeping.”

  “He’ll wear retirement well.”

  Lifting up on my elbow, I meet Roark’s eyes. “This is going to sound stupid but thank you for taking care of him for the last few years, making sure he gets good deals that represent his brand and foundation.”

  “You don’t have to thank me, Sutton. It’s my job.”

  “A job you do well.”

  His brow quirks up. “Is that so? I thought I was the most unprofessional person you know.”

  “You are, but shockingly you’re still able to do your job. I don’t get it, but it works for you.”

  “I got lucky,” he answers, tugging on a strand of hair and then wrapping it around his finger. “When I first got to the States and was attending classes at Yale, I was slightly wild with the partying.”

  “You? No way. I don’t believe that for a second,” I say, sarcasm dripping from my lips.

  He squeezes my side, a smile on his handsome lips. “I was excited to be free from my parents, so I drank and partied a lot. That’s how I ended up in the same fraternity as my two best friends, Bram and Rath. From then on, I saw opportunities, schmoozed with the right people, and it wasn’t long before I gained credibility amongst friends—despite my partying. For some fucking reason, they trusted me with their careers, which was how I became their manager. I have no idea how to explain the way I got into this business besides pure Irish luck, but I take the job seriously, even if at times it doesn’t seem like I do.”