It's a Fugly Life (Fugly #2)(53)

“They won’t go inside, will they?” I asked.

“No, Lily.” Max patted my hand. “They know they cannot trespass.”

“But why are they even here? Who gives a crap about us getting married other than us?”

Max nodded. “Apparently enough people that these photographers feel it necessary to stalk us everywhere we go.” He gave me a reassuring look. “Don’t worry. They’ll move on in a few days. I promise.”

The car pulled forward, passed the gate, and we headed inside.

“You hungry?” Max asked, loosening his red silk tie while I kicked off my black heels right in the foyer.

“Yes. But not for food.” My eyes washed over his body. I wanted nothing more than to rip his gray dress shirt and those very expensive-looking slacks from his tight body.

“Well, I suppose we could get a little f*cking in before eating.” He approached me and pulled me into his arms. Then he froze.

“What’s wrong?”

“This is our last night together as single people.”

“You’re single?” I scowled. Because I sure the hell wasn’t.

“I merely meant unmarried.”

“In that case, I suppose you’re right, but what’s a wedding when you’ve got someone’s seed growing inside you?”

He made a sour face. “Seed?”

“That really is a horrible thing to call a baby, isn’t it?”

“It’s barbaric.” He leaned down and kissed me. “Just like the things I’m going to do to you in exactly two minutes.”

“Barbaric, huh?” I liked the sound of that.

“You are carrying my child, so we can dial it down to barbaric light. Only a bit of spanking and nipple pinching.”

“I suppose I can make that happen.” I reached out and tweaked his nipple through his shirt.

“Uh-uh. Mr. Cole doesn’t play that.” He swatted my hand away and laughed.

“I’m not sure I like your tone, Mr. Cole. What’s good for the goose, and all that…”

He shook his head, reached for my arm, and bent at the knees, tugging me towards him. He didn’t slam me over his shoulder, but at the same time, I couldn’t wiggle away.

Before I knew it, he was carrying me up the stairs.

“Hey!” I protested.

He yanked up my favorite brown skirt and smacked me hard on the ass. “Shut up. You’re not allowed to speak.”

I couldn’t see his face, but I heard the smile. “Ha. Ha. Funny, Mr. Cole.”

We reached his—I mean our—bedroom, and he lowered me to my feet.

I looked up at him. “I hope you’re ready for some hot nipple action.” I made little crab claws with my hands.

He pushed me back into the bed. “It’s our last night together before the wedding. The only thing I’m planning on is f*cking you senseless so there’s no chance of you getting cold feet.”

I propped myself up on my elbows. “You think I’m going to get cold feet?”

“I know you will, Lily. And I know that marrying me is a huge leap of faith. But I believe in us, and I know you won’t f*ck it up this time.”

I almost felt like getting angry, but he and I had always been brutally honest with each other. It was the foundation of our relationship. “No. I won’t f*ck it up this time.”

“Good.” He slid his hand up inside my skirt and tugged down my black panties. “Now be quiet while I get to work.”

I grinned at his playful alpha talk. I loved this man. I loved him more than anything. Which was why I’d allow him to think he was in charge.

At least for one more night.



The wedding would be a simple ceremony in a nondenominational church right down the street from the small beachside restaurant where we’d have our reception dinner. I loved the sound of everything being quiet and intimate. Just our closest friends coming for a nice meal while we laughed, ate, and watched the sun go down. I mentally blocked out the fact some press would be lurking outside. I would simply pretend they didn’t exist. Nothing would ruin this day. Because when I stepped back and reflected, the fact that this man, whom I loved so much, loved me back, well…I still couldn’t quite believe it. Not that I didn’t have anything to offer him, but he literally could have almost anyone. Hot model, gorgeous actresses—pretty much anyone with a pulse who was into men would at the very least consider him.

“Please, stop staring. It’s making me feel self-conscious,” Max said with a grin from the seat next to me as his private plane touched down in the small Santa Barbara airport. I tried not to let this lifestyle go to my head. None of it was really important at the end of the day.

“Sorry, I can’t help it. None of this feels real.” By tomorrow evening, we’d be husband and wife. Maxwell Cole and Lily Snow. My ex-boss and the girl who’d never had a kiss until she met him.

He ran his thumb over my bottom lip, beaming at my face. “No, it does not.”

“How did you see yourself getting married? In a big church in Italy or on a yacht?”

He chuckled. “What in the world makes you think I ever wanted to get married?”

Oh. “You didn’t?”

“No. I had my company to keep me occupied.”