Mr. Right: The Complete Fake Engagement Series

by Lilian Monroe

  “That all sounds good. Do these hours count as work experience for the physical therapy students that will be on board?”

  “They do,” I reply. “We already have over thirty applicants.”

  The waitress drops our sandwiches down in front of us and I smile at her. She walks away, and Max grins at me over the food.

  “Can we stop talking about work now?”

  “I thought this was a business lunch.”

  He chuckles. “It is.” He takes a bite of his sandwich, nodding in appreciation. “So how’s your mom?”

  “She’s really good. She just finished her chemo last month, and she’s been recovering ever since. Still has checkups to go to, but the doctors are saying she’s in remission.”

  “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “It means she needs to keep making sure the cancer isn’t growing, so she needs to be checked pretty often, but for now, she’s good.”

  “Wow. And she’s stronger?”

  “Way stronger. I think having Jerry around has helped her, too,” I grin. “Sounds like they had quite a passionate relationship.”

  “What happened?”

  “He had a big-shot career and my mom was a struggling artist, so there was friction. Then, my mom got pregnant and she didn’t want to hold him back. That’s what she says, anyway. I think she was just scared that he would leave her, so she made the decision for him.”

  “Must run in the family.”

  I stop my sandwich midway to my mouth, glancing at Max.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Didn’t you make that decision for us?”

  “I didn’t… That’s different,” I stutter.

  His eyes are incredibly blue in this light. The intensity with which he’s staring at me is making my head spin, but I can’t look away. He reaches across the table and puts his strong hand over my wrist, stroking my skin tenderly.

  “I meant what I said that morning, before it all went to shit,” he says gently, squeezing my arm.

  “What’s that?”

  “That I loved you.”

  I freeze. My heart races. Loved, as in, past tense.

  I swallow. “You also meant what you said when you thought I was part of some conspiracy to sabotage your parents’ company.”

  He cringes, pulling his hand away. He stares out the window and lets out a big sigh.

  Why do I do that? I lash out anytime someone gets too close. It’s like I can sense that he wants to open up to me, so I just shut it down. I can see the pain in his face—I did that to him.

  My whole body is itching to be near him. This lunch has been the sweetest torture, and I don’t want it to end. Not like this.

  “I’m sorry—” We both say it at the same time. My eyes widen just as he turns to look at me, and we both start laughing.

  “I’m sorry, Max. I know that I pushed you away. It was just so crazy, and—”

  “It’s okay. I’m sorry too. I was an idiot to do that to you.”

  “Do what to me?”

  “Make you go along with that whole engagement plan. It was destined to end in disaster. How could it not? I’ve gone over it so many times in my head and I just feel like an idiot.”

  I chuckle. I lift a finger and point it at him. “That’s why I said we shouldn’t have slept together. That was the kiss of death.”

  Max grins, and his eyes flash. “You didn’t seem too upset about it when it was happening.”

  “I wasn’t.” A coil of heat curls in my stomach. I squeeze my thighs together under the table, picking up my sandwich and staring at it without taking a bite.

  “Max,” I start. I flick my eyes up to see him staring at me intently. He licks his lips, and the heat in my stomach blooms. I take a deep breath. “I meant it too. That morning.”

  If I wasn’t staring at his face, I would miss the tiny twitch of his lip, and the microscopic widening of his eyes. Those tiny movements send my heart racing.

  “Let’s start over,” he blurts.

  “What?” I laugh. “Start what over?”

  “This. Us. I miss having you around.”

  “You miss having me around?” I arch an eyebrow. “How romantic.”

  “I miss you,” he says with a grin. “That any better?”

  “Marginally.”

  Silence hangs between us. He slides his hand across the table, palm up. I stare at it for a second, and then slip my palm over his. He curls his fingers into mine and I close my eyes. His hand so deliciously warm, his touch so beautifully tender.

  “Let me make you dinner.” He squeezes my hand. His voice is soft and sexy. “We can have fancy wine that requires a corkscrew and everything.”

  That makes me laugh, and all the emotions that I’ve been trying to bottle up erupt inside me. My eyes start to mist, so I close them.

  Suddenly, Max is beside me. His arms are around me and all I can smell is him. All I can feel is the heat of his body next to me, and all I can hear is the soft murmur of his voice.

  Tears slide down my cheeks and I melt into him. His palm slides over my cheek, wiping my tears away. He stares at me for a moment, and the pieces of my broken heart start to fuse back together.

  Then, he brings his face closer and I know it will heal. He presses his lips to mine and I wrap my arms around him, clinging onto him for dear life. His hand slides from my jaw to the nape of my neck, pulling me in for a deeper kiss.

  The cafe melts away. The whole world disappears. I forget who I am and where I’m sitting. All that matters is him, and me, and our kiss.

  Our love.

  He rests his forehead against mine, touching the tip of his nose against the tip of mine.

  “I gotta go,” he says. “Coach will kill me if I’m late, and then I’ll never be able to expense this meal.”

  I laugh, pushing him away and shaking my head.

  “Ever the romantic.”

  He’s laughing as he picks up his jacket and our stack of notes. “That’s me. Don’t you miss being engaged to me?”

  “Every day,” I say. He turns to look at me as a smile spreads across his lips. He leans down and kisses me softly.

  “Come on,” he growls. “I’ll walk you to your car. Dinner at my place tonight?”

  A lump has mysteriously appeared in my throat, so all I can do is nod. He slips his hand into mine and I’m grateful for it, because tears have completely misted up my eyes. I’d probably walk into a pole if he wasn’t there to guide me.

  We kiss again when we get to my car. I watch him walk back toward the college athletics building, and then I smile.

  I missed having him around, too.

  39

  Max

  When Naomi gets to my place, she’s changed out of her work clothes and into casual jeans and a black tee-shirt. All the blood in my body rushes between my legs. She puts a hand on my shoulder and gets on her tip-toes to lay a gentle kiss on my cheek.

  “So where’s this fancy wine of yours?”

  “Just here,” I say. “I opened it to let it breathe.”

  “Of course you did.”

  She grins at me, kicking off her shoes and hooking her arm around my waist. I tuck her hair behind her ear, breathing in deeply as my heart does cartwheels in my chest.

  “You smell like you,” I breathe.

  “Who else would I smell like?”

  “You always have a retort, don’t you?”

  “You still sure you missed me?”

  I chuckle, dropping my hands to her waist and pulling her closer. “Yeah,” I say. “I’m sure.”

  Creases appear on her porcelain forehead. Her eyebrows draw together and she tilts her chin up to study my face. She takes a deep breath. I feel her chest move against mine. She still has her arms hooked around my waist, and I feel her fingers curl into my shirt.

  “What are we doing, Max? What is this?”

  I drop my hand, finding hers and guiding her toward the couch. I’ve already laid out the w
ine and two glasses, so we both sit down. I pour us two glasses and hand her one, and then I look her in the eyes.

  As many times as I practiced saying this over the months, and as sure of myself as I was an hour ago, right now is different. With her bright eyes staring at me, my certainty evaporates and my whole body starts to stress. My palms are sweaty, and I brush my hair back with my fingers.

  “Naomi,” I start. I need to stop and take a breath. She puts her glass of wine down and places her hands on my thighs. Her touch helps, and I can keep talking. “I fucked up. I know I did. Before, with you, I didn’t act right. I shouldn’t have put you in that position and I shouldn’t have accused you of those things. I was a coward with anything relating to my parents.”

  “Max…”

  I shake my head. “It’s true. It wasn’t until you left that I realized how special you are. You gave me the courage to quit working for my father, and to pursue what I really want. You showed me what matters. You,” I say, tucking my finger under her chin. “Are incredible.”

  “I also fixed your knee, if we’re listing my accomplishments.”

  I chuckle, and my nerves evaporate. She takes my glass of wine from my hands and puts it beside hers on the table, and then slides her hands into mine.

  “Let’s just start over,” she says. “Just like you said.”

  “You and me. We can date. No engagement, no pressure, no contract. Just you and me.”

  “Just you and me.”

  A smile spreads across her face and her eyes twinkle.

  “Is this a terrible idea?” She asks. “I can’t tell. It feels like a great idea, but I’ve been wrong about these things before, especially with you. You’ve got a way of making me forget about common sense.”

  “Funny,” I reply. “You have the same effect on me.”

  She laughs until I stop her with a kiss. She wraps her arms around my neck. I lean forward until she’s laying down on the couch and I lean on top of her. I drop my arm to her waist and roll my hips toward her. Her body feels just as good as I remembered.

  No, it feels better.

  She deepens her kiss, tangling her fingers into my hair. Her back arches and her breasts press against my chest.

  I knew this would happen when she agreed to have dinner at my place. Well, I hoped it would happen. But now that she’s here in my arms? My body is going wild.

  My heart is thumping, and my cock is rock fucking hard. Every time her fingers brush against an inch of skin, they set it on fire. I can’t get enough of her. I kiss her harder and she moans into my mouth.

  Her hips press against me and I feel the heat radiating between her legs. She spreads her legs and squeezes them around me, sending another wave of heat through my body.

  “Max,” she pants.

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too.”

  “And I missed your cock.”

  I grin. “My cock missed you too.”

  She laughs as I drop my hand between her legs. I wish we weren’t wearing so many clothes. My fingers run along the inside of her thigh as she closes her eyes and drops her mouth open. She lets out a soft sigh as I reach the apex of her thighs and lay my palm between her legs.

  I want to savor every minute of this. I want to etch every touch, every sound, every smell into my brain so I never forget it. I want to worship her body and make her feel like a fucking queen.

  I want to hold her, and never let her go.

  I tear her jeans off, running my fingers up her silky thighs until I reach her sopping wet panties. They’re clinging to her lips as she shivers underneath me. I push her panties aside and feel the velvety wetness of her slit. She moans when my skin touches hers, rolling her hips toward me. She shivers when I roll her bud under my thumb, opening her eyes and panting. The emerald green of her irises looks almost hazy as she runs her fingers through my hair.

  I drop my head between her breasts, inhaling her scent as she pushes back against my hand. When I slip my fingers inside her, she gasps.

  This is heaven. It has to be. How else could I explain it? Watching the woman I love get closer and closer to orgasm—I love her. I know that. I’ve always known it, even when I tried to convince myself otherwise. Her back arches, and her walls clamp down around my fingers with surprising strength. Her honey covers my hand as she presses herself into me, digging her fingers into my shoulders. My lips find hers and she kisses me fervently.

  I twirl my fingers around her bud, loving the way she moans at my touch. I kiss her again until her mouth falls open and I feel the orgasm wash over her.

  I smile as my cock throbs. Fuck, she’s gorgeous.

  When she opens her eyes again, she stares at me and grins.

  “My turn.”

  40

  Naomi

  I’ve missed this—our sex. I’ve missed it all. Lazy mornings with him, long evenings talking, or even the times where we said nothing at all.

  But the sex… the sex I’ve definitely missed. I’ve tried to pretend that I wasn’t missing it, but my body has felt like a shell of what it was when we were together.

  Within minutes, he’s ignited the fire inside me again.

  I can feel his length against my stomach, and all I want to do is make him feel as good as he makes me feel. Whatever is between us, as confusing as it is, I know it’s real. It’s love.

  We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.

  It only takes a couple frenzied seconds for us to get all our clothes off. My hands are around his shaft in an instant. He groans when he sees me moving closer to it. When I take it in my mouth, he sighs, running his hand across my shoulder.

  “That feels so good, Naomi,” he moans.

  I make a noise in response, wrapping my fingers around the base of his shaft. I love making him feel good. I like seeing this big, powerful man melt at my touch. It turns me on so much to know that I’m doing this to him—these noises and moans and sighs that he’s making—that’s because of me.

  He lifts my head off him, shaking his own.

  “You’re not getting away without me being inside you,” he growls.

  I grin. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  He picks me up easily and I wrap my legs around his waist. He carries me to the bedroom and lays me down, groaning as he leans his body over mine.

  “You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamt of this.”

  “I have some idea,” I respond.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Probably half as many times as I have.”

  He chuckles, brushing his lips against mine. He shifts his body and I feel the tip of his cock brush against my slit. I shiver, spreading my legs and wrapping them around his waist. The feeling of his skin against mine is intoxicating.

  When he enters me, the whole world disappears. I sigh in contentment, melting into the pillows and wrapping my body around his. We move as one.

  When I come, I know that Max is the man for me. I know that there’s nowhere else I want to be other than his arms. I know that there is no one else, nowhere else, nothing else that will make me feel as good as being right here in his arms.

  The pleasure heightens my emotion—or maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe it’s knowing that I don’t have to fight it, I can be with him. I can let myself love him fully and completely.

  Once I let myself do that, my orgasm floods through me like a dam breaking. It crashes into me without hesitation, carrying me into a world of ecstasy. My body holds onto his and he moans into my skin. His teeth drag across my shoulder, and I feel him get harder as he drives himself deeper into me.

  We’re panting, sticky with the sweat and heat of our desire. Of our pleasure.

  Of our love.

  When it’s over, he stays inside me and kisses me tenderly. He slides off me, draping his arm across my chest and sighing as his head hits the pillow.

  “I think I needed that,” he groans.

  “I definitely needed t
hat,” I laugh. “Haven’t had an orgasm in way too long.”

  “No?”

  I snort. “Well, I haven’t exactly dated anyone since you,” I admit. “And I guess I just didn’t really feel like masturbating unless entirely necessary.”

  His fingers caress my collar bone, and I turn to look at him. I smile.

  “I haven’t been with anyone either,” he admits. “I couldn’t even look at other women after you.”

  “So I guess we’re stuck with each other, then,” I grin.

  “I guess so. You wanna save some time and get married?” His eyes flash and a grin spreads across his lips.

  I laugh, pushing his shoulder and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. “No. Not yet. Not for a while.”

  “I can deal with ‘not yet’,” he grins.

  “You think that wine has breathed enough?”

  “I’d say so,” he grins.

  “I’ll go get cleaned up and grab our glasses,” I say. He smiles at me, and I slip into a towel. I go to the bathroom to wash our sex off my body, and then tip toe to the living room to grab the wine. I can see some food he’s laid out on the counter and I go to investigate.

  I smile when I see bruschetta. I stuff one piece in my mouth and carry the platter over with one glass of wine. I set the glass on his side of the bed, jogging back out to grab my own.

  “Dinner in bed,” I grin as I come back in. He’s already chewing on a piece of bruschetta, nodding at me and wiggling his eyebrows.

  “Starving,” he says with his mouth full.

  “Me too,” I say, grabbing another piece.

  “I’ve got some salmon for us, should only take a few minutes to cook up.”

  “Let’s just eat this, and drink these,” I say, lifting my glass. “And then we can reassess.”

  He arches his eyebrow, and I grin.

  “You never know what we might want to do after a little snack.”

  “I’ve got a couple ideas,” he says, lifting my hand and pressing his lips against my fingers. His hand drifts up my arm, sending a shiver of desire through me.

  I smile, sip my wine, and let the happiness permeate my entire body.