Diary of a Bad Boy(92)
“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.
“You make me happy too, Roark.”
“Yeah?” he asks, a shy smile moving past his lips, a shadow of doubt in his eyes.
“Yes. How could you doubt that?”
He bites on his bottom lip and looks at the ceiling for a second. “I’ve never been in a relationship. I’ve never had experience with these overwhelming feelings to keep you close to me at all times, to protect you, to make sure I see that gorgeous smile of yours every day. It’s all new, and there are times I have this heavy weight building in the center of my chest, wondering if I’m doing it right, if I’m screwing anything up.” He cups my cheek. “I don’t want to screw anything up with you, Sutton.”
“You’re not going to screw this up, Roark.”
“I screw everything up.”
I shake my head. “That’s not true, not even close. Have you ever screwed up a business contract?”
“That’s different. That’s business. When it comes to personal relationships, I’m a goddamn fuck-up.”
“Really? Because I just had dinner with two guys who think the world of you, who’ve been friends with you since college. And all your clients, they’ve stuck around because they don’t only like the money you bring in, but the relationship they have with you. That’s how your business started, through your ability to connect with others, to read their needs and anticipate their wants. The word relationship doesn’t only lend itself to romance, Roark. You’ve been in relationships with people for many years, but you haven’t understood how good you are at them. In them. It’s as though you’ve hidden behind a fa?ade of indifference and assholery, as if you’ve doubted they’d actually like you. But your success, your business, proves otherwise. So, you have been in relationships, and it’s what makes you so good at ours.”
He drags his hand over his face and blows out a long breath. As I look into his eyes, it’s pain I see there. “Then why the fuck doesn’t my family love me?”
My sweet man. Their love? They don’t know what the word means. I hate how they’ve damaged his incredible heart and soul. I hate how their greed and ignorance still shapes how he sees himself. But I get it. If my dad didn’t love me so unconditionally, I wouldn’t be who I am today.
“Roark, look at me.” I tip his chin with my finger so he’s forced to meet my eyes. When I have his attention, I say, “I wish I had an answer for you, an exact reason why your family treats you with anything less than unconditional love. I so desperately wish I had the answers, but I don’t. All I know is what I’ve seen ever since meeting you. You’re loving, caring, loyal, kind, and genuine, all attributes that make up an impressive man, one I want forever by my side. It hurts me that your family can’t see the same guy I do. It angers me that they’ve not bothered to know the man you’ve become, the friends you’ve made, the lasting relationships you’ve solidified. That’s their loss, not yours.” I soothingly drag my thumb over his bottom lip before bending down and pressing a soft kiss across his lips. He wants to further it by pressing his hand to the back of my head, but I lift up, not quite finished with what I have to say.
Taking a deep breath, I continue, “I care for you, Roark, deeply.” The L word is on the tip of my tongue, but I hold back, not wanting to move too fast. “And because I care for you, I’m going to be frank. The way your family treats you—manipulates you—how they so horribly make you feel bad about yourself for wanting more, that’s not how a loving family acts. That’s not how parents should treat their children. And I know you feel this overwhelming guilt to help them out, and that’s something you’re going to have to combat in time, but I want you to know, it’s not okay for them to use you, to make you feel any less than you are, to guilt you into sending them money every month. That’s not okay, and as long as I’m in your life, I’m going to show you every damn day how you should be treated.”