So with Roark, I need to tread carefully. I know he cares for the man, I just need to make sure he’s in a good position to learn about our new relationship.
I scoop up a bite of brownie with the fork Roark brought over and start to chew as I stare at the dessert. “I think we still have some time before we tell him.”
“Is that so?” Roark asks, leaning back in his chair, his large arm draping over the chair next to him. Shirtless, his chest muscles contract as he shifts, his eyes trained on me as his unruly hair falls over his forehead. “You think we have some time still? What exactly does that mean?”
He’s not angry, not even a little upset, just inquisitive. It almost makes me more nervous. “I think we should spend more time getting to know each other before we tell my dad.”
“Thinking about changing your mind, lass?”
“What? No. Of course not.” I take a deep breath. “I like where we are right now, and I don’t want to lose that.” I bite my bottom lip and say my biggest fear out loud. “What if he doesn’t approve, Roark? What then? I’m not ready to lose you.”
“If he doesn’t approve are you going to break up with me?” he asks, shifting forward now and clasping his hands together under the table.
“No,” I shake my head. “It would make things exponentially harder if he doesn’t approve, and I don’t want to deal with hard right now. I like how things are between us. Can’t we keep it that way for a little while longer?”
Understanding washes over him as he visibly relents. “Yeah, we can.”
“Thank you.” I stand from my seat and round the table where I straddle his lap and loop my arms around his neck. Wearing nothing but his T-shirt and a pair of underwear, I settle easily on his thighs and press a warm kiss across his lips that he easily reciprocates.
Hands on my thighs, he takes a deep breath and leans back to look at me. A serious expression passes over his eyes before he says, “You’re not ashamed of me, are you, Sutton?”
He can’t be serious.
“Oh my gosh, no.” How could he think that? I cup his cheeks. “Roark, if you think that, I clearly haven’t been doing my job to reassure you how much you mean to me.”
He rubs my thighs up and down, the warmth of his hands spreading all over my skin. “I’m sorry I asked; it was stupid.”
“It wasn’t, and if you asked, it’s because I put something in your head to doubt me, to doubt us.” I force him to look at me, those seldom serious eyes penetrating straight through my heart. “Please don’t doubt us, Roark. When I say I’m the happiest I’ve ever been because I’m with you, I mean it. I know you want to tell my dad, get it over with, but give me a little more time, okay?”
He nods. “I’ll give you all the time you want, as long as you’re mine.”
“I’m all yours.” I shift on his lap, hooking my feet around his legs.
“You better be.” He brings my mouth to his and leisurely explores my lips with his, occasionally swiping his tongue across them, sending a bolt of arousal straight through my center. When he pulls away, he drags out my lip for a second with his teeth, teasing me. “If we’re not telling your dad right away, I think it’s time you meet the boys . . . properly.”
“The boys?”
He nods. “Bram and Rath.”
Oh . . . THE boys. This should be very interesting.
Very interesting and fun.
* * *
“What happens if I find Rath more attractive than you? Aren’t you nervous about that?”
“No.”
Roark flanks my side, his hand securely fastened around mine as we walk to the restaurant Rath and Bram chose to meet me. Only a few more blocks at Roark’s powerwalking speed.
“How can you be so sure? Isn’t he incredibly intelligent, ruthless, and rich?”
“Taking notes when I talk to ya, lass?”
“Maybe.” I chuckle. “But seriously, you’re not worried at all?”
“No.” He stops in front of the restaurant, grabs the door, and turns toward me, his eyes intent on connecting with mine. “I’m not worried, because after what I did to you this morning and the way you cried out my name in worship, trust me, I’m feeling pretty damn secure right now. Plus, I’m sexier than Rath.” He winks and then guides me into the restaurant as my face heats from the memory of this morning.
Not that I would ever be interested in anyone but Roark—it’s fun to tease him, though—but clearly that’s not something to tease him about, because he’ll never fall for it. There’s no way he ever will, especially after what he said. This morning, oh God, I’ve never come so hard. He handcuffed my hands with sheets to his headboard then spent what felt like half an hour running his lips up and down my body until I was so turned on I couldn’t think of anything else. And when he gave me release, I moaned his name loud enough for the entire building to hear.
It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and I don’t think it’s simply Roark’s outstanding bedroom skills at play here. I trust him. Completely. And it allows me to surrender control to him, and holy shit, is it worth it. Only Roark could generate such rapture within me.
“You know, if you keep blushing like that, I’m going to skip dinner and take you back to my place to do something about those red cheeks of yours,” he whispers in my ear.
I turn into him and smile, embarrassed he can see the effect he has on me.
He chuckles and wraps his arm around me, pulling me into his chest. “You’re so goddamn sweet, Sutton.” He places a kiss on the top of my head and gives the hostess our name.
She weaves us through the dining area to a back doorway covered by a velvet curtain. When she pulls back the heavy fabric, two men are sitting at the table, drinks in hand, smiles on their faces as they converse. They both turn in our direction, and while Bram greets me with a friendly lift of his hand, Rath gives me a more serious once-over.
Alone, the curtain draped again, Rath and Bram stand while Roark makes introductions.
“Bram, you already know Sutton.”
“I sure do,” he says, pulling me into a hug.
“Congratulations on your engagement. I’m so happy for you,” I mutter against his broad chest that holds me captive for a few seconds too long.
“All right,” Roark says, tugging me away. “Enough of that shit.”
Chuckling, Bram gives me a wink and then takes a seat. “Thanks, Sutton.”
When we turn toward Rath, I’m a little taken back by the intensity in his expression. A few inches taller than Roark’s already towering height, Rath takes a step forward, his shoulders broad and bulky, his jaw twitching as he continues to assess me. I can see why Roark has called him ruthless. He doesn’t seem to be the soft, touchy-feely type, nor does he look like he knows how to smile.
It’s kind of confusing, how these three men are best friends, because their personalities seem to be so different, but maybe that’s why it works.
I offer my hand as Roark introduces me. “Rath, this is Sutton.”
He takes my hand and gives it a tight squeeze before letting go. “Nice to meet you, Sutton,” he says in a deep, gravelly voice—one I believe you only hear when a man wakes up from a long night’s rest. But looking at Rath, I’m going to bet he doesn’t know what a long night’s rest is.
“Nice to meet you.” I swallow hard, feeling very intimidated by him. Maybe that’s why Roark knew my teasing was just that, teasing. There’s no way I’d be able to handle a man like Rath, his intensity alone would wear me out in an hour.
Roark pulls out my chair and removes my jacket before taking a seat, his chair sliding next to mine, like when we met with Maddie.
But unlike the casual coffee date, dinner in a velvet-curtained space seems much more intimate, but I guess I can’t expect anything less from these three high-powered businessmen—businessmen who used to be raucous frat boys from what Roark has told me.
He delighted me the other night with some old college stories of his boys, the
kind of stories I never would have believed if I met these two in their professional element. Bram’s past infractions of walking around shirtless and taking shots off anybody in his way, I could partially believe given the way I first met him. But if I met Rath in his office, and someone told me he was once found high in a fetal position in his closet, clutching his pillow like a childhood teddy bear, talking to it, I wouldn’t believe it.
From across the table, Rath eyes me cautiously while Bram rubs his hands together, getting ready for the inquisition. “Tell us the secret, Sutton.”
Confused, I ask, “What secret?”
Bram brings his drink to his lips, nods at Roark, and answers, “The secret to taming the Irish rogue sitting next to you.”
“Christ,” Roark groans. He shifts in his chair before whispering in my ear, “You don’t have to answer any of their dumb questions.”
With a small smile passing over my lips, I place my hand on Roark’s thigh, keeping him close just like he’s keeping me close, and I say, “It’s all about making him squeal like a lady in the bedroom.”
Bram spits out his drink while the smallest smirk passes over Rath’s face. With the napkin from his lap, Bram quickly wipes his mouth before saying, “I wasn’t expecting that answer.”
Roark looks at me and says, “Neither was I. I think ya got things mixed up, lass. Weren’t you the one squealing this morning when my fingers had a viselike grip on your nipples?”
Immediately, my face flames. I should have known better than to test Roark, especially in front of his friends. Softly, as if to soothe me, he kisses the side of my head and chuckles. He bested me this time. Who am I kidding? He’ll probably always best me, and I know it’s one of the reasons I’m falling hard for this guy. He teases me with no shame, but his version of soft and sweet beguiles me.
“Have you pinched Roark’s nipple yet?” Bram asks, heating up my face even more. “He loves that.”
“How do you know?” Roark asks, his posture completely relaxed in his chair as his thumb slowly draws small circles on the back of my neck.
With a wicked smile, Bram speaks over the rim of his glass. “You asked me to tweak them for you one night in college.”
“Bullshit,” Roark counters, even though there’s laughter in his voice. “You probably dreamt that I asked you, because you were always wanting to get handsy with me.”
“It’s the Irish accent, am I right, Sutton?” Bram winks and takes a sip of his drink, causing me to laugh.
The friendship Roark shares with his friends reminds me so much of my relationship with Maddie. Behind the joking is loyalty, honesty, and the willingness to go the extra mile. After all, Bram thought it completely reasonable to turn up at Roark’s when he believed he’d ruined his proposal. Given what Roark has shared about his family, I’m so happy he’s had these guys in his life. It looks like Rath and Bram have been the brothers he’s needed, stepping in to fill the empty void his family created. And even though we’ve only been dating for a few weeks, I want to thank the both of them, for being so loyal and loving to this man.
Now I feel the pressure for them to like me even more.
At least I know I already have Bram’s vote. It’s Rath Westin’s I’m worried about.
“What about you, Rath, do you like your nipples played with?”
I don’t know why I asked it.
I don’t know what on earth went through my brain at that moment.
But with his sultry yet contemplative eyes staring me down, the nerves fluttering in my stomach, and the need to be liked, it just came out. I can’t tell from the rise of his rakish eyebrow if he’s amused.
At least Bram and Roark are, because they chuckle as I awkwardly wait for Rath’s answer.
Rath shifts in his seat, his eyes still trained on me, and I realize in that moment why Rath is the successful businessman Roark boasts about. In the few seconds he holds eye contact with me, I’m starting to wilt under his gaze. I wouldn’t want to face this man in a boardroom. Not for a second.
Finally, he answers, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Only when Bram does it.”
Bram presses his hand to his chest dramatically. “Dude, that touches me deeply.”
Rath shrugs. “You have the best fingers in the city.”
I chuckle while Roark shakes his head. “Way to make it creepy, you two.”
Bram points at me. “She’s the one who started talking about nipples.”
“Me?” I point at my chest. “Roark was the one who brought up nipples, I just spoke of squealing.”
“She has you there,” Rath says as the waitress places a plate of nachos in the middle of the table.
Nachos.
Wasn’t expecting that. Neither was I expecting all three men to dive in with such urgency as cheese drips from the chips. Call me crazy, but given where we are and the social standing of these men, I would have bet my week’s salary on them ordering something like Tuna Tartare rather than a pile of nachos with cheese and jalapenos. Who knew this place even served something like this?
“Dig in, Sutton,” Roark says, his mouth full of chips. “They’ll be gone before you know it.”
And he’s right, because when I reach for my first chip, each guy reaches for their third, making a significant dent in the plate.
As I chew on the gooey cheese and crunchy tortilla chip, I chuckle, watching all three men lick their fingers and swig their drinks. I guess Roark was right: you really can’t drag the frat boy out of them.
Mid-bite, Rath asks, “So we know the Irish accent is a killer for most women, but other than that, what made you want to stick around with this guy?”
I think the nipple question warmed him up, because instead of an intense stare, Rath seems more relaxed, in his element, and that puts some ease in my shoulders. Or it could be that he’s eating. Men love food.
I glance at Roark, only a few inches away, and take in his handsome features: those eyes that can display mischief and passion, his perfectly trimmed beard that feels sensational when rubbed up against my inner thigh, his smile that frequently still renders me speechless . . . They’re all physical attributes that would attract any woman, but it’s beyond the surface that has me hooked.
“I’ll be honest,” I answer, keeping my eyes on Roark. “It wasn’t a match at first. I actually despised the man.”
“Holding her phone hostage wasn’t cool, man,” Bram says from across the table. They knew about that?
“Didn’t feel like giving it back.” Roark smiles at me.
“He frustrated me,” I add. “Frustrated me more than anyone I’d ever met, but within that frustration, he challenged me.” Roark’s eyes soften. “He helped me stand up for myself, something I’ve never been good at. He forced me to be more assertive, another attribute I lacked. He forced me to step outside of my comfort zone and fulfill one of the resolutions I set for myself this year—live life to its fullest. I don’t think there’s another person on this planet who could have pushed me as much as he did. And then my appreciation for him slowly grew into something else as I started to see his softer side.”
“He really is a teddy bear, isn’t he?” Bram cuts in.
I lean my head against Roark’s shoulder and say, “He is. He pretends to be this ‘gives zero fucks’ bad boy when in fact, he’s a total softy to the core.”
“He’s a good man,” Rath says, seriousness lacing his every word. “I don’t trust many people, nor do I care to waste my time with people who don’t have a direct positive impact on my life, and even though Roark has done some stupid shit in the past, he’s loyal and would do anything for me, for us.”
The tone of the room changes dramatically from Rath’s admission, leaving a squirming Roark and a gushing Bram.
“Dude, do you feel the same about me?” Bram asks, making me laugh.
Rath rolls his eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you this? If it was you or Julia, my own flesh and blood, hanging off a cliff, I would lift you
to safety every time.”
Bram presses his lips together and lowers his head before reaching over and gripping Rath’s hand. “I love you so much, man. If I liked penis, I would marry you over your sister.”
“Jesus,” Roark mutters and lowers his mouth to my ear. “I neglected to tell you how creepy their bromance is.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” I whisper back. “I like seeing it firsthand. It’s very entertaining.”
“Don’t let them know that.” He presses a quick kiss to my lips before fully wrapping his arm around me and claiming me right in front of his friends.
It’s a small gesture, but it means a lot to me.
And when I see their returning smirks, I comfortably ease into Roark’s embrace.
* * *
Spread across Roark’s satin sheets—the new ones he got for me—I draw lazy circles over his bare chest as we lie in the dark, our breaths finally evening out from the rigorous activity that ended ten minutes ago. All the way home in the black town car Roark insists we take now, he kept whispering naughty things in my ear, telling me everything he planned on doing the minute we reached his apartment. And he didn’t lie.
He checked off every promise he made in the car, including sex against the window of his bedroom, followed by the current cuddle we’re sharing.
His fingers dance along my scalp, twisting in my hair, as I press my naked body against his, reveling in the smell of his cologne. “So you think they liked me?”
“They think you’re perfect for me.”
“They told you that?” I ask, lifting up so I can look him in the eye.
He nods. “Yeah, they already knew you were perfect for me before you met them, because they could see how happy I am.” His thumb strokes my cheek softly. “You make me so damn happy, Sutton.”
In the moonlit room, lying on the softest sheets I’ve ever felt, I feel my stomach flip in a somersault before settling into place. I make him happy, this unruly, asshole of a man. I make him happy. I don’t know how, but I’m glad I do, because I can’t imagine a day without hearing his sensual voice, without feeling his tender touch, without watching his face light up whenever I walk into a room. It’s addicting. He’s addicting, and I wasn’t lying when I said he’s an addiction I never want to quit.
Diary of a Bad Boy Page 27
