It's a Fugly Life Page 9

  “So you flew all the way to Chicago so you and I could have a proper goodbye.”

  “Yes. And I’m not pregnant.”

  “I got that part.”

  I wondered if he felt relieved or indifferent or…well, I guess it didn’t matter.

  “We also need to talk about your purchase of my building and the company—the one you didn’t tell me you started.”

  “All moot points given why you’re here, I’d say. All of that can be undone since you wish to say goodbye.” The coldness in his tone made me wonder if he was getting ready to put up a fight. Because Maxwell Cole was many things, but he wasn’t a quitter. That man didn’t let anything get in his way when he wanted something.

  “I’m serious, Max. We need to let us go.”

  The room filled with an uneasy silence.

  “All right, then,” he finally said, “if it’s a proper goodbye you’re looking for, strip and lay on the bed.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Take off your clothes and get on the bed,” he demanded in a slow deep voice. “That is why you’re really here, isn’t it, Lily? Because you wanted to feel my cock inside you one final time.” He wasn’t joking around, and my body knew it. Every inch of me sparked with adrenaline—heart pounding, skin tingling, and my nipples tightening. His rough words had struck a nerve. An erotic one.

  “Answer me, Lily,” he said, his voice stern.

  Had I flown all this way because I needed to be with him one last time? I didn’t know, but I couldn’t lie. I wanted him. My body craved everything I knew Max could make me feel—love, utter despair, need, ecstasy, and loss… I would lose myself the moment he touched me. And I wanted to.

  “Have you been with anyone else?” I knew it was unfair to ask, but I wanted to know.

  “What the hell do you think?”

  That was a no and possibly his way of pointing out he hadn’t given up on us. I had.

  In reply to his question, I stripped off my shirt, pants, and undergarments while he watched in silence. It felt oddly arousing to undress for him, but my body had always pleased him. He liked looking at me, and I liked him looking.

  My knees unsteady, I walked over and stood in front of him, naked, my chest heaving with anxious breaths.

  He gripped my hips with his large hands and pulled me to his mouth, placing a kiss on my stomach.

  I gasped quietly. He felt better than I remembered, righter than I remembered.

  With one smooth motion, he pulled me down on top of him and rolled me onto my back, diagonally across his king-sized bed. He quickly settled his warm body between my legs, using his muscular thighs to spread my legs wide for him. The weight of him and the warmth of his smooth bare chest pressing against my hard sensitive nipples sparked little contractions deep inside my core. I ached to feel him enter me and release that tension.

  He tipped his body to the side, slid his shorts down past his firm ass, and freed his cock before grabbing my hands and sliding them over my head. The length of his hard shaft pressed into the wet and ready valley between my legs, but he held back what I really wanted.

  He kissed me forcefully, but his lips were warm and sweet and could possibly be the last thing I’d ever want touching mine. He kissed the sides of my mouth, my chin, my forehead, and nose. I felt a drop of wetness trickle down the side of my cheek, and it took a moment to realize it wasn’t my nervous sweat or emotional tears. It was him.

  In a million years, I couldn’t imagine that a man’s tears could touch me or make me love him so deeply—they were always seen as a sign of weakness. But this man. This man. So strong and confident, not giving a shit about showing how he felt, it stripped me down to nothing. Bare. Vulnerable. Cherished.

  I poured myself into our kiss and ground my hips against his erection, letting his length slide between my slick folds. He let out a soft groan and rocked himself into me, increasing the friction over my pulsing c-spot.

  Oh, God. I felt like I was going to come already. Nobody could turn me on like Maxwell Cole because no man knew me better than him.

  Panting hard, I threaded my fingers with his and raised my hips again. I needed him so badly, I wanted to scream.

  He released one hand and slid it between our bodies, grabbing his cock and placing the head at my entrance. He made teasing little circles, mixing my wetness with his.

  “Please. Please,” I panted, unable to stand it.

  Instead of ending the torture, he positioned the head of his shaft just so, allowing me to feel him there, but not giving me more.

  He deepened his kiss and once again pinned my hands above my head. I felt so lost in him, in my need for him, and he knew it. He wanted to show me what I was trying to say goodbye to. He wanted to show me that he, too, had power in this relationship and that his might be stronger.

  “Please,” I gasped.

  “Is this what you want?” He flexed his hips, pushing only a centimeter into me before pulling out again.

  “Yes.” I panted.

  “You really think you can walk away from me, from us.” Torturously, he pushed the tip inside again, making me lose my mind. “Say it, Lily. Say goodbye now.” This time, he went an inch deeper, enough to give me a taste of the fullness and pressure only his dick could deliver.

  “No. I can’t. Please just—”

  “That’s right, Lily. You can’t, because you know how good I feel inside you.” He thrust hard with one fluid motion, drawing a sharp gasp from my mouth.

  Every inch of my body lit up and pulsed with sensual tension.

  My fingers flexed into his palm while he pulled out and thrust into me again, pushing all the way.

  “Fuck, Lily. I missed you.” He pumped again, and I threw my head to the side. How was it possible that the sheer act of his hard shaft being inside my body made me feel like this? Like I could reach every star in the sky. Like I wasn’t me anymore, but merely a body he owned. A body he commanded and knew how to torment so deliciously.

  I slid my hands from his and moved them to the sides of his face, never wanting to stop or let go of this moment.

  Max pumped harder, and I rocked my hips against him, wishing somehow he could get deeper. Not possible. He already touched everything that made me who I was.

  Max lifted his torso and pillared his arms to the sides of my head while pistoning his thick cock into me. “Look at me, Lily.”

  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 fuck 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 fucker. 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 fucking ugly life, it was fucking 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 fucking lobby? In downtown Chicago?

  I literally had the urge to remove my little white blouse and taupe pencil skirt and just run naked.

  Relaxing spa-like music played in the background while a gentle stream of water trickled from a crack in a wall made of large river rocks. It flowed into a tiny stream that snaked through the room only crossable by tiny wooden bridges or raised stepping-stones. Throughout the space, product stood on large wooden pedestals with shelves carved inside them to hold more products. Couches, Zen-looking coffee and tea bar, hand-carved coffee tables, and a neck massage station made this look more like a getaway in a meadow of peacefulness.

  Wow. It was magical. I looked around at the happy women perusing, sampling lotions, and smelling perfumes in small clay bottles. A group of older women sat on moss green stools in the corner and faced a young brunette, who appeared to be showing them how to make homemade avocado masks.

  It was really, really cool. Relaxing, serene, beautiful. Like a fairytale rather than a store.

  The best part was that there were no photos of “perfect” women that screamed “you’re not good enough.”

  Taking my time to let it all soak in, I strolled through the store, inspecting the products. There were no anti-aging cream this-or-thats (because what the hell was wrong or ugly about aging?). There were no complexion-refining foundations either. Instead they were called skin-nourishing foundations “to make your skin as happy as your heart.” Even the dang mascara had a squishy-positive name called flirty lashes for a “flirty mood.” Everything was positive and geared toward being good to yourself or having fun. Not one single message of “you’ve got a defect and we’ll help you fix it.”

  “This is just a pilot store to test out our concepts, but do you like it?” Max appeared at my side, wearing his usual expensive faded jeans that made any woman within eyeshot salivate. He also wore a white button-down shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, exposing just enough skin and muscle to trigger instant ovulation.

  “Like it?” I replied. “Are you insane? I love it. But…what does the LLL stand for?”

  “Lily’s Lovely Lies.” He smiled. “Because if it weren’t for you, I never would have done this.”

  “Oh.” So it was his way of saying that everything happened for a reason. Specifically, I had believed some very big lies about him—that he had only used me to debunk the claims that woman made in her book about his disorder.

  “Of course, that’s our little secret, between you and me,” Max added. “The marketing campaign has been focused on women telling their husbands that they’re going shopping, but really they’re sneaking off here. To be pampered. We’ll be testing out some other stylistic and marketing concepts over the next few months before launching five new sites.”

  “Max, it’s incredible.” I couldn’t stop my eyes from darting around and drinking in the subtle details—the white lilies painted on the sage green walls, the flow of the floor plan, the soft lighting, and even the natural packaging of the products. He’d turned shopping into more than simply buying products but a secret indulgence. I grabbed a bottle of Heaven Made Your Hands hand cream and flipped it over. Whoa. I leaned toward Max and whispered, “Eighty bucks?”

  “Premium product.”

  A little disapproval shimmered in my eyes. That was steep.

  “We give ten percent of profits to charities who support women,” he added.

  “That’s better.”

  “Can I show you the rest?” he asked.

  Frankly, I’d seen enough. He’d taken my dreams and made it reality. It was simply unbelievable and part of me even felt jealous. I mean, it would’ve taken me a decade to put something like this together on my own. Max had waved his billionaire wand and created a pilot store in less than six months.

  However, despite my awe, he and I needed to talk. I’d decided on the way over that what I needed to hear from him was how he really planned for all of this—us—to work out. Yes, I was looking for excuses to say yes instead of no.

  “Can we go somewhere private to talk?” I asked.

  “Right this way.” He dipped his head and gestured toward a set of stainless steel elevator doors tow
ard the back. That was when it hit me again. This entire store used to be the lobby of Cole Cosmetics. My eyes did another sweep. Truly amazing.

  “And your mother is completely out, right?” I asked as we made our way to the elevator bank.

  Max’s expression went from proud and smug to positively glowing. “I never have to see her again.”

  I could hear the sense of freedom in his voice. His nightmare was finally over.

  “I’m so happy for you, Max. Really.”

  “Thank you.” He scanned a card on a security pad and the elevator doors slid open. We stepped inside.

  “Just like old times.” Max hit the button for the top floor and flashed a mischievous little grin.

  We’d once made out in this elevator, and I’d never forget. His lips and hip action had almost made me come in five seconds flat.

  I turned to him, wanting to say something, but forgot. He looked so tall and handsome in his jeans and linen shirt, but his messy hair and unshaved jaw really made the goosebumps flourish.

  “Yes?” he said.

  Keep focused. Must have serious conversation. No sex. No sex. No sex.

  “Uhhh…so I hear you sold this building.”

  “Not exactly. I transferred the title to LLL.”

  This was a huge building in the middle of downtown Chicago with views and premium office space.

  “The entire thing?” I asked.

  “Lily, I was dead serious when I said I wanted us to start this company.”

  “But you went ahead and started all this without ever consulting me.”

  He cleared his throat and scratched his scruffy jaw. “Yeah. Well, this was supposed to be a wedding present. A surprise.” His tone was sharp.

  “Oh.” I honestly didn’t know what to say. I could see how if he’d thought I’d say yes to his marriage proposal the other day, that this might be the next logical step for us. Still, it was a bit presumptive. Okay, really presumptive. And also touching.