It's a Fugly Life (Fugly #2)(28)

I opened my lids and saw his hooded hazel eyes locked on my face.

“Don’t ever leave me again,” he said.

I didn’t know how to respond. I’d come here to say goodbye—for me. For my sanity. But feeling him move inside me, his body pressing me into the mattress, his cock sliding in and out, only made me think of staying. Forever.

I came hard, and he came harder, jetting his cum deep inside me in time to each delicious contraction of my muscles. He pushed deeper, willing himself into me. Me inviting him.

I felt it then. That strange buzz that seeps into your soul when someone takes a piece of it. Or maybe connects with you on such a level that your cells shift position to welcome them. I didn’t know, but something changed inside my head. I could not deny how much my soul craved him.

Breathing heavily, still inside me, Max rested his scruffy jaw on my collarbone. He said nothing, but there wasn’t anything to say. The moment was perfect. His heat, his smell, the taste of his salty tears on my lips.

The moment was perfect.

And I felt terrified all over again. Terrified.

The question was, could I really stay? And if I did, would I f*ck it up again? Or would he?





Max and I slept for a few hours, and he made love to me again, this time flipping me over onto my hands and knees, taking me from behind while his thick fingers made sure I came harder than before. The third time that night, I’d been sound asleep in his arms, spooned by his tall lean frame, when I felt his velvety head slowly nudging its way into my tender entrance. He’d ridden me hard tonight, but this time he took me so slow and gentle, I’d thought I’d died and gone to hell—sinful, sinful, sinful. No doubt about it. Because the way he worked his hot shaft in and out of my entrance made me want to sign over my soul and never look back. When he came that third time, he stayed inside me and passed out. I couldn’t come. Not again. But feeling his body wrapped around me, inside me, his delicious scent permeating my lungs, couldn’t have felt any more like heaven than heaven itself.

The next morning, Sunday, I woke to an empty bed, cool gray sheets, and drowned-out daylight filtering through the khaki curtains.

Holding the sheet to my chest, I sat up. “Max?”

I listened closely. He might be in the kitchen, making coffee. Or in his office, making calls.

I slid from the bed, threw on one of Max’s large dress shirts he had draped over an armchair in the corner, and traipsed down the stairs. His den—an immaculate space with stacks and stacks of magazines in the corner—was empty. I made my way to the large, open kitchen with giant windows overlooking the lake. I immediately spotted a note on the granite counter.

Lily,

I wanted to let you sleep. You looked exceptionally tired this morning, though I cannot think why. When you’re ready, meet me at LLL so we can further discuss this goodbye of yours. Properly.

Callahan is waiting outside to take you.

Love,

Max, Your Boss

I smiled. “My boss, huh?” I muttered. All right, I’d give him “boss in bed.” And I couldn’t deny he’d played me well last night, because I found myself questioning the decision to end things. Were we really as broken as I’d thought? It was difficult to imagine after he’d reminded me of how well we worked together. Perfection. We were perfection last night.

So what if I chose to let go of all my fears and simply chose to be happy with Max? I wanted to. I did. But I couldn’t see how to get there. Not without learning how to permanently discard my unwelcome self-esteem gremlin. Don’t feed it after dark! I would have to let go of it and a lifetime of viewing myself as spoiled goods—flat out sexually undesirable. But the negativity almost felt embedded in my DNA, like a billion years ago, nature decided that some of us had to be ugly. Otherwise, how would the beautiful women shine? People required something to compare to, right? What was smart without stupid? What was strong without weak? What were giant knockers without sporty boobs?

All right. Enough. I had to put a stake in the ground. At some point, I needed to accept responsibility for how I felt. It was like Clara said; I needed to apply my tenacity to something new: me. Easier said than done? Probably, but what did I have to lose other than a lifetime of this self-deprecating bullshit.

As for Max, my tiny revelation didn’t mean that my fears about him weren’t valid. Max’s affliction was a variable completely outside of my control and it was up to him to conquer it.

But, God, how I wanted to help him do it. See. You love him. You love him that much.

Still, I felt stuck. My heart wanted this so badly, but my brain kept pushing me back. It won’t work. It won’t work.

Shut up, you little f*cker. The sane me took the reins. I’m going for it. If last night showed me anything, it was that Max knew me better than I knew myself. He knew how to ground me and help me see a future together.

Hell, the guy cried for you!

When I was in his arms, it wasn’t a f*cking ugly life, it was f*cking beautiful.



At ten past ten, I arrived to LLL, entered, and stood there in awe. Holy shit. Max had taken the old lobby of Cole Cosmetics and turned it into something ripped straight from my dreams.

This wasn’t a cosmetics store—walls plastered with photos of beautiful size zero women with flawless skin and perfect cheekbones—this place looked like a vacation on the planet of pampered real women. How the hell did he do this? To a f*cking lobby? In downtown Chicago?