Diary of a Bad Boy(93)

His face softens, his eyes glass over as he pulls me closer, our foreheads connecting. “You’ve changed me in all the best ways, Sutton. I doubt I’ll ever find the words to tell you how much you mean to me.”

“Then show me,” I say, bringing my lips to his, where he takes them softly and rolls me to my back.

Taking a moment, he studies me. His finger trails down the side of my jaw. His eyes search mine, and a wave of nerves flutter in my stomach. And then I see it in his eyes . . . love. It’s right there, unmistakable. He doesn’t need to say it, because in this moment, I can sense it. See it.

He loves me.

And I love him.

Without another word, Roark presses his lips against mine and for the first time since we met, we make love, slowly and sweetly. It’s not hurried, and there’s no need to play around and tease each other. Instead, we connect in the deepest way possible, with our hearts.





Chapter Twenty





Dear Ned,

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

I’m in love.

I know, I’m just as shocked as you are. It’s taken me a few days to figure it out. After I took Sutton to meet the boys, we went back to my place and fucked hard. It was amazing, but then something happened, something changed in our relationship. Some people might call it a pivotal moment.

I feel safe around her, which caused me to open up about the one thing that weighs heavily on my chest: my family. And even though what Sutton said to me all rang true, that my family doesn’t treat me the way I deserve, I know accepting that is going to take time, because there will always be the question in the back of my head, wondering why they can’t love me like Foster loves Sutton.

If I were to reiterate what my pain-in-the-ass therapist told me yesterday—which pains me—living my life, searching for their love is only going to continue to frustrate me, because I can’t control their feelings or actions. But I can control my life and how I treat the positive people I have in my life.

Deep, right? And normally I would have scoffed, mentally flipped her the bird, and then been on my way, but with Sutton in my life, I see what she’s talking about. I have an opportunity to be happy, the chance to feel love for the first time. That means I can make a choice. Instead of wallowing about what I can’t fix, I can take this opportunity to prove to myself that in fact, I am someone who deserves love. And, I can reciprocate the feeling.

Sutton is everything I never knew I wanted in my life, and it’s about time I let myself feel, rather than live in a constant state of numbness.

Sorry about the gushing, lad.

Roark





ROARK





I glance at my watch one more time, the hands barely moving around the dial. I’m being impatient.

Really fucking impatient.

It’s been two days since I’ve seen my girl because I was out of town on business, tending to one of my West Coast clients, and now that I’m back, all I want to do is wrap her up in my arms, take her back to my place, and press my lips all over her sweet body.

But someone wanted to get dinner first . . .

I guess eating is a necessity, but so is getting inside Sutton.

Leaning against the wall of the restaurant, I scan the streets of New York, incessantly searching for a wave of bright blonde hair. I find it funny, that this is where I am in my life, desperate for one glimpse of the girl who’s captured my heart.

And even though it’s out of the norm for me, it feels so right, like there has been this missing piece in my life and Sutton completes me

Remember how I said I can be a goddamn gentleman sometimes and use words like besotted?

Well I’m fucking besotted over Sutton.

And I’m not ashamed to admit it . . . in my head.

Growing irritated, I lift off the wall and pull on the back of my neck—the itch for a cigarette strong—and then I spot Sutton turning the corner in her bright pink wool jacket. Her hair is curled and bouncing by her shoulders and her wind-streaked cheeks are a pretty blush that matches her lip color.

Stunning . . . And then she looks up, finds me, and her face lights up. Fuck, yes. My girl. She races toward me, a feat given her killer heels and form-fitting pants.

The minute she reaches me, I bring her into my arms and lift her up to my mouth where I place a desperate kiss on her lips. I melt into her touch, into the way her hand grazes over my beard and the soft demands from her mouth, looking for more.

I hold on to her tightly, pulling her out of the center of the sidewalk and closer to the restaurant so we aren’t blocking New Yorkers from getting to where they need to go. Two days, that was it, we’ve been apart for two days and it’s felt like pure torture. That’s how far gone I am with this girl.

Pulling away, I take a deep breath and rest my forehead against hers as my hands circle her waist. “I missed you so damn much.”

“I missed you too,” she replies, in that sweet southern voice. “Why did it feel like a week?”

“No idea, but how about we skip dinner and go straight to my place?”

She chuckles and tugs on my hand. “Nice try. Remember our relationship isn’t just about sex. There is more to us. We have substance, and we don’t have to spend every moment in bed.” Female brains are such a mystery.

“Why the hell not? I don’t remember agreeing to that theory. We can have substance in bed.” I follow her into the restaurant and speak close to her ear. “How about we try it? I’ll bury myself deep inside of you, and we can discuss where we want to go on vacation while your tight pussy convulses around my cock” Ooof.