Diary of a Bad Boy(90)
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.