It's a Fugly Life (Fugly #2)(14)

Max stared for a moment with those sultry hazel eyes, his square jaw ticking. “But you’ll need your strength for when I f*ck you.” He grinned and those two stubble-covered dimples puckered.

My mouth dropped open. Did he really think that my relationship catastrophe had magically cleared the way for him and me to f*ck? Clearly, he had not listened to a word I’d said about why we were doomed.

Maybe he just wants to f*ck. After all, he is a man. Dick first, feelings second. Or in Patricio’s case: feelings never.

Max slid my feet from his lap and went to get a small bottle of OJ from the minibar fridge. Meanwhile, I wished that mental Drano existed so I could wash away the image of Patricio lying naked between Adeline Taylor’s legs, her red fingernails digging into his ass. They’d been f*cking all right. No doubt about it. The other photos showed him naked, paddleboarding over turquoise water, with her sitting in front of him. I guessed they were in the US Virgin Islands because that was where he’d been “working” part of this past week.

Max returned with my drink, and I chugged it down.

He took the empty bottle from my hand and placed it on the coffee table before lifting my legs and sitting. He patted my shin. “Are you sure you won’t let me order you some room service? I seem to remember you being a fan of pancakes.”

“I’m really not hungry.” I only wanted to cry. Just not in front of him. “God, I’m such an idiot,” I said under my breath.

“No, Lily. It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. You. Are. Perfect. You simply aren’t perfect for him. No one is.”

“Thanks,” I said unappreciatively.

“His being a cheating * truly has nothing to do with you. I wouldn’t lie. Not to you.”

I shook my head, feeling the orange juice mix with my sour angry stomach. “But you would keep the truth from me.”

Max took a moment, mulling something over. “Patricio’s family and mine were once close. They vacationed on the French Riviera. We vacationed on the French Riviera. But then one year, when my sister, Mabel, turned sixteen, it all changed.”

Uh-oh. I didn’t like the sound of this.

He continued, “Let’s just say that Patricio’s acting career started early, and he honed his skills deceiving young women.”

“He Mr. Wickhamed your sister?”

Max lifted a questioning brow.

“He played her,” I clarified.

Max nodded. “She never told me the whole story, but it doesn’t take much to imagine. She was devastated for months after he tossed her aside. Then she found out he’d slept with three of her friends, too.”

What an *. By my calculations, Patricio was three years older than Mabel, Max’s sister.

I inhaled through my nostrils, trying to digest it. So this was it—the reason Max hated Patricio. Still, it didn’t explain why Patricio hated Max back.

“What did you do to him?” I asked.

Max took a long time to answer while he stared at something that stretched beyond present time. “I almost killed him.”

I pulled back my head. I had not expected that.

Max nodded. “I found Patricio and beat him within an inch of his life. If it weren’t for my family’s money and their ability to settle things quietly, I probably would’ve gone to the French equivalent of juvie.”

I almost had no words. It was one thing to play the protective brother, but it was another to almost kill someone.

“Keep in mind,” he said, “I was only fifteen at the time and my mother had systematically stripped all joy from my life. My sister was the only thing I cared about.”

My stomach churned again. It was so very strange to think of this beautiful, strong, confident man growing up in such a mentally f*cked-up home. To his credit, he’d taken that pain and suffering and turned himself into something extraordinary.

“I’m so sorry, Max.”

He laughed. “You had your heart broken by that piece of shit and you’re telling me you’re sorry?”

I shrugged. “I’ll be okay. I’ve survived worse.” I looked at him so he’d know what I meant.

“I’m sorry, Lily. I shouldn’t have waited so long.”

He referred to the six months. “Then why did you?”

He scratched his scruffy chin. “I realized that I’d built Cole Cosmetics out of sheer hatred for my mother. Which made me angry all over again. I thought I was free of her and was my own man, when really my entire world still revolved around that monster. Once I saw that, I needed time.”

“To do what? More therapy?” I felt a spark of jealousy, picturing what that therapy might involve. Or more accurately stated, who it might involve. Had he found some other woman to spend his nights with to continue what he’d started with me? Had he f*cked her, too?

He paused for a long moment. “It’s a very long story—and now is not the right time to share it.” He gave my knee a pat and then stood. “I’m going to order food and ask them to bring you clothes from their shop.”

He walked over to the phone on the end table and dialed. Meanwhile, I stared at his back and broad shoulders. I couldn’t help feel the need to touch him. And rub my naked body all over him. With his penis inside me. All right, sex. I wanted comfort sex.