Diary of a Bad Boy(94)

Sutton elbows me in the stomach and speaks from the side of her mouth. “Can you please control yourself? We’re in public.”

I move my hand over her ass unapologetically. “This is what you get when you force me to go to dinner after not seeing you for two days. You’re tempting fire, Sutton.”

Glancing up at me, a seductive look in her eyes, she says, “If you really want to play that game, I have no problem turning you on while we eat dinner. Is that what you really want, McCool? A boner with your burger?”

A smirk pulls at my lips. Damn her and her sassy mouth. “I can’t think of a better way to eat my dinner.”

She lifts a brow in my direction. “Oh yeah?” Carefully and very nonchalantly, she backs into me and moves her hand behind her back and cups me, as if her hand is a magnet to my cock. She gives it a light squeeze, sending my libido through the roof as I jolt backward. The small chuckle playing off her lips tells me she’s completely satisfied with my reaction. “Watch it, Roark. I learned from the master on how not to play fair.”

Gripping her shoulders now, I lean into her ear and say, “You’re going to pay for that, lass.”

Before she can respond, the hostess greets us and Sutton gives her our name.

“It will be about fifteen minutes. Would you like to have a seat at the bar while you wait?”

Sutton looks up at me and then nods. “That would be lovely.”

The hostess gestures to the left. “Right through the archway. I’ll come get you when your table is ready.”

“Thank you.” Sutton takes my hand in hers and makes her way to the bar.

“You know, fifteen minutes is a long time, maybe we should just order in.”

When she faces me, I catch a giant eye-roll. “We’re going to be a civilized couple and have a dinner date.” She takes a seat on a bar stool and I block her in, trapping her with my large body.

The bartender sets a napkin on the counter in front of Sutton and asks, “Can I get you anything?”

Keeping my eyes on Sutton, I say, “Jameson for me and a Shirley Temple for the lady.”

The bartender nods and starts tending to our drinks. “Shirley Temple?”

I give a lock of her hair a quick tug and smile. “Seemed right. And I can’t remember the last time I had a drink. If I’m going to get through this meal, I’m going to need some liquid encouragement.”

“You act as if it’s a chore to have a meal with me.”

“It’s not a chore, Miss Green. It’s torture, especially when you’re dressed in those sexy tight pants and rocking high-as-shit heels.”

She coyly smiles. “I might have spiced up my outfit tonight.”

I rest my hand on her thigh, the other on the back of her chair. She’s sitting sideways so I have a good grip on her seat. “Spiced up your outfit? You’re torturing me on purpose?”

“No.” She shakes her head and fingers the lapel of my suit jacket. She knows my normal casual meeting wardrobe, so I might have dressed up for her as well. Thinking my girl appreciates it too. “I just wanted to look good for my man.”

“You look really fucking good.” My hand slides up her thigh. “Too good, lass.”

The bartender pushes our drinks toward us and I reach into my wallet to pull out a fifty, when he holds up his hand. “I’ll add it to your tab, Mr. McCool.”

When he retreats, Sutton brings her drink to her sexy lips and says, “Mr. McCool? Friends with the bartender?”

I shrug. “They might know me here, probably not for the best of reasons. But they do have amazing burgers, and you said that’s what you were feeling. I’m surprised they don’t have a table already set up for us.”

She pats my cheek. “Oh, how terrible, the rich man has to wait with the commoners.”

“Keep teasing me, lass, see where it gets you.”

“Hopefully beneath you.” She winks while sipping from her straw, the suck of her cheeks driving me crazy.

“You’re going to make this as hard as possible, aren’t you?”

She glances down at my crotch and smiles. “Yup. As hard as possible is always how I like it.”

I take a swig of my whiskey and swish it slowly around my mouth for a second before swallowing. “You’re getting fucked hard tonight, Sutton.” I move in and lower my head to her ear. “I’m going to rip those pants off you, push you over the side of my couch, spread your legs and—"

“Oh God, oh crap.” Sutton pushes at my chest, shoving me back while saying, “Get away from me.”

“What?” I ask, completely confused by the panic in her eyes.

“My dad,” she mutters, straightening up. “He just walked into the restaurant.”

Oh fuck.

“Hide.”

I glance behind me. “I can’t hide, Sutton.”

“Well, then take your hand off my thigh.”

Okay, that’s a valid point. Despite not wanting to, I take a step back and put a few feet between us, a small part of me wishing Foster caught me with my hand on her thigh so we could get the announcement over with. It’s not like we’ve been lying to Foster; we’ve simply kept things quiet. But over the last week or so, I’ve felt this need to tell him, to have his approval, and now seems like a great time to get that over with.