It's a Fugly Life (Fugly #2)

“Say it,” he demanded.

At that exact same moment, his cock hit that magical spot deep inside me and his pelvis hit my c-spot. Every nerve ending exploded with crippling ecstasy and radiated out to every limb all the way to the tips of my toes and fingers. “Yes. Oh, God. Yes.”

He worked his shaft with just the right amount of pressure, extracting wave after wave of contractions. I couldn’t see straight. My nails dug into his shoulders.

He grunted with his release and pumped his cum inside me, triggering one more sensual wave of my own release.

At that moment, all I knew was that having our bodies tangled together, the sound of his deep masculine voice flowing through my ears, the delicious scent of his fresh sweat and expensive cologne permeating my nose, would be the one thing in my life I could never get enough of. There was no replacement for him, for this, for us.

Several long moments passed before Max dropped his head on my shoulder, letting out a long breath.

“Wow. That was…intense,” I muttered, still enjoying the feel of him inside me and of us together.

“It’s only going to get better.” He lifted his head and looked at me. “You know that, don’t you?”

It took a moment for me to realize that he wasn’t talking about sex. He was talking about us. And probably him. Maybe even me.

I brushed the hair from his forehead and stared at him. He was so beautiful. Now more than ever.

“Yeah,” I said softly, “I know.”

“Good.” He pulled out, got up from the bed, and swiped his jeans from the floor. He returned and looked down at me. “Because I meant what I said. We are getting married next week.”

“What’s the hurry?” I had enough to worry about.

He kneeled beside the bed, planted his elbows next to me, and held out a small black box. “Lily, you need to know I’m in it with you one hundred percent. I won’t ever turn my back on you again. I won’t ever shut you out again. Even if it’s not easy and humiliating for me, I won’t hide from you when I feel afraid.” He opened the box and revealed a ridiculously large engagement ring.

“You’re proposing. Naked?” I sat up, still naked myself.

“Seems appropriate, don’t you think?” He flashed his trademark, charming smile that displayed his dimples and made his eyes light up. I could look at that smile the rest of my life and never tire of it.

“The naked part is wonderful. And so is that ring.” It had a huge princess-cut stone surrounded by tiny diamonds, giving it a vintage feel. “But we don’t need to get married.”

“Uh-uh. I’m not taking any more chances, Lily. I am not risking losing you again.” He slid the ring from the case, grabbed my left hand, and slid it effortlessly onto my ring finger.

“It’s perfect,” I said with a sigh.

He kissed the top of my hand. “Exactly like you, Lily.”

I smiled and leaned in to kiss him. “I love you, Max.”

“I hope so. Because I am never letting go of you again.”



After our little—okay, very unlittle—romp, Max and I took a shower, ate, and then called Keri to let her know we’d both be flying back to Chicago that evening on the red-eye. She was ecstatic, of course, because everyone at LLL had been busting their asses to get the company up and running. But when Max took the phone and told Keri he needed help getting a wedding booked for next weekend, here in Santa Barbara, Keri went ape-shit happy. I could hear the shrieking from three feet away.

“Nothing big or fancy, Keri. I want small, quiet, no press. Got it?” He grinned at me and then ended the call. “I hope that’s okay?”

“You have no idea how badly I do not want a big fussy wedding. Thank you.”

He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around my waist. “You sure? Because I’m ready to give you anything you want.”

“I’ve got you. That’s more than enough.”

“And in about eight months, we are going to have someone new to love,” he said.

“Life is completely surreal.”

He pinched my chin and tipped my head up. “Just remember, Lily, whatever happens from here on out, we’re in it together—good, bad, ugly.”

I stared up into his eyes. “Are you worried?”

“I won’t lie. Yes.”

“But I’m sure you’ll keep your disorder in check. Look how far you’ve come.”

“I’m not worried about me,” he said. “I’m worried about you.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you. And I know how hard it is for you to accept that you truly deserve the good things in your life—including us.”

Mimi Jean Pamfiloff's books