Page 44 of False Confidence

“Maybe we should wait until you’re less hormonal before we try to figure out your feelings,” Maggie suggested, rolling onto her back and shooting up. “What the fuck?”

Jazz glanced up and laughed. She hadn’t had the chance to tell Maggie about the mirrors on Liam’s ceiling yet.

“He has mirrors on his ceiling. Holy shit.”

“That’s not even the half of it,” Jazz said. “I have so much to tell you.”

Maggie groaned. “I’m torn between wanting to know it all because it’s you, and none of it because it’s Liam.”

“I can make up a fake name for him, if that helps,” Jazz offered, and Maggie shrugged.

“Can’t hurt.”

Jazz propped herself up on her elbow. “Okay, well Li—shit—Lime?”

“Lime is not a name. It’s also basically just Liam.”

“Right.” Jazz wracked her suddenly empty brain. “I’ve forgotten every name ever.”

“James?” Maggie offered. “Oh shit, no. That’s his grandpa’s name.”

“If we’re ruling out Michaelson names, we’re going to be here for a while. There're thousands of them.” Cal had nine siblings, most of whom were married with kids.

Maggie groaned. “Ugh, just use his name. It’s fine.”

Jazz gave her best friend a rundown of the night Liam had tied her up, and Maggie’s brows climbed higher and higher as she spoke.

“Holy shit. And you still haven’t come?”

Jazz growled in the frustration. “Even if I could, he won’t let me! He brings me right to the edge and then pulls back every fucking time.”

“I thought his whole thing was making people come? That seems like it directly contradicts what he’s into.”

“I think he’s focusing more on what I’m into,” Jazz admitted with a sigh. “Which, as it turns out, is being a brat and mild sadism.”

“Hot,” Maggie offered and Jazz nodded her agreement. “It sounds like he’s just making sure you’re ready. I’m guessing your first orgasm in a decade is going to be a big deal. You’ll probably cry.”

“I cry anyway,” Jazz replied with a snort. “He licked my tears off last time.”

“Damn.”

“Makes you wonder what’s up with Grandpa Michaelson,” Jazz mused, “if Daddy Michaelson and Baby Michaelson are like this. I guess we know why Cal’s parents kept having kids. And stayed married for sixty years.”

“I think the sixty years has more to do with how crazy in love with each other they are.”

“Yeah, well, apparently that runs in the family too. You and Cal are still disgustingly cute.”

Maggie raised a brow. “At least I never accidentally told Cal I loved him before we were even dating.”

That was a valid point, but two could play that game. “True, but you did almost go on a date with your now-stepson, and ran off for months the second Cal tried to take care of you,” she said with a sugar sweet smile and Maggie whacked her with a pillow.

“Touché. And I’d do it all again to get where we are now.” Her face took on the same dreamy expression she always got whenever she spoke about Cal. The one that made Jazz’s stomach twist uncomfortably. At least this time, she could blame it on residual cramps.

“Like I said: disgustingly cute.”

Why was Maggie comparing her relationship to Jazz and Liam, anyway? It wasn’t the same. Anyone who spent more than five minutes with Maggie and Cal could have told them they were meant to be together, meant to get married and live happily ever after.

Jazz’s eyes snapped to the doorway as she heard the ding of the elevator in the hallway, followed by the sound of Liam’s apartment door opening. She swallowed, her heart picking up speed.

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