Diary of a Bad Boy(91)
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.”