Page 47 of False Confidence

Liam busied himself with his Kindle, turning it on just in case she looked back. “No. I’m reading.”

“Sure you are, baby,” she replied, with a knowing glance at him. She winked and Liam slapped her ass, but pulled his hand back quickly, because he knew he would crumble if he didn’t.

It had been more than a week since they’d touched beyond cuddles and chaste kisses. And as torturous as it had been, it was proof that they didn’t need sex to spend time together; they were just happy to be in each other’s presence. But now that Jasmine was better, they were both ready to end the torture.

She’d warned him she would be ridiculously horny on day five, and that she would try to tempt him, but he shouldn’t give in because she would be too tired. And oh boy, had she tried. By lunchtime, Liam had shut himself away in his guest bedroom and made up an excuse for a virtual meeting just so he could breathe.

He knew the leggings were just another temptation, but she was full of energy today. There should’ve been nothing holding him back, but there was. A throwaway sentence that had stuck in his head on the way to dinner with her parents: Don’t bother trying. I gave up when I was twenty.

Ten years ago. Which, by Liam’s calculation, was roughly when she’d stopped being able to come. Between that and the knowledge that Jasmine had been running on false confidence for the past decade, Liam had a hunch about why she couldn’t let go. He also had a good idea of what they needed to do to get her there, but he knew Jasmine well enough to know she wouldn’t be happy about it: they had to talk.

She’d made it clear that she’d gotten closer with him than she had with anyone else, and Liam suspected that had more to do with how much she trusted him than what they were actually doing. Sure, he prided himself on knowing how to make people come, but Jasmine telling him she felt safe with him made him happier than any number of orgasms ever could. He just needed to break through the last of her defenses and help her open up.

He waited for the episode she was watching to finish before speaking. Jasmine had spent most of the episode scrolling through her phone, so it would’ve been easy to assume she wasn’t paying attention to the show, but she had an uncanny (and impressive) ability to pay attention to ten things at once.

He set his Kindle aside and tapped his lap. “Come here.”

Jasmine turned the TV off and obliged, though she snuggled in beside him, rather than on his lap. Which was just as well, really. He was only human, and it was already bordering on too warm in the penthouse. He tightened his arm around her and breathed her in; Liam had yet to figure out how she always seemed to smell like the most perfect slushy on the hottest summer day, but he wanted to devour her. Later. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Jasmine’s face barely changed, but Liam caught the uncertain glint in her eyes before she forced it out. “We could talk,” she agreed, snuggling in so close she was practically on top of him, “or we could take full advantage of the fact I’m better.”

So. Fucking. Tempting.

Liam gritted his teeth. “Both great options, but I’m going to go with talking.”

“Ugh.” Jasmine pouted, and Liam fought the urge to bite her lip.

“I tell you what: we talk first, and then we can do whatever you want.”

That piqued her interest. She raised her brows. “Whatever I want?” Liam nodded, wondering if he’d just dug his own damn grave. “What I want,” she continued, punctuating the words by dragging her finger down his chest, “is you inside me. In my mouth, in my pussy, in my?—”

“Then I guess we’d better get to talking then,” Liam interrupted, because he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions if she finished that sentence. He hadn’t been inside her since India and Bart’s wedding, and he wanted it just as badly as she did.

“Fine,” she said with a smirk, well aware of how much she was tempting him. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Your family.”

Her smirk slipped. “That’s one way to make me less horny.” She sighed, looking away, like she couldn’t stand the thought of him seeing her looking vulnerable. “There’s not much to talk about it. Like I said the other night, you saw them for yourself at dinner.”

“Sure, but I don’t actually give a shit about your family.” That might have been a little harsh—Xander and Rose seemed fine, if stuck under their parents’ thumbs too much. “All I care about is how they make you feel.”

“They don’t make me feel anything,” Jasmine protested. “I like who I am and they don’t. But I don’t care what anyone thinks of me.”

“That’s a nice sentiment. It’s also complete bullshit,” Liam pointed out, trying to keep his voice gentle despite the blunt words.

Jasmine’s jaw dropped, her eyes flashing with ire. “I don’t… That’s not… Fuck this. You have no idea what you’re talking about. You barely know me, for fuck’s sake.”

She turned away from him, but Liam held onto her wrist. He was holding her so lightly that it would take no effort to pull away, but she didn’t.

“No. We’re not doing that. You don’t want to talk about your feelings? Reasonable, talking shit out sucks, but you don’t get to pull away just because you’re scared. I know you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Jasmine’s shoulders seemed to fold in on themselves as she sat back against him. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” Her voice shook. “I’m the fun friend. I’m not used to talking about anything serious, and no one has ever called me on it before.”

“Not even Maggie?” Liam asked, surprised. Though Maggie was a recovering people pleaser, he didn’t think those tendencies had applied to her relationship with Jasmine.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t count. Maggie and I have been calling each other out on our shit since we were teenagers, but neither of us ever actually did anything about it, so we just kind of canceled each other out. It was easier to ignore before she grew up and started going to therapy.”

He was taken aback by how bitter she sounded, but that was a conversation for another time. They couldn’t tackle everything in one night. “Okay, well keeping shit bottled up for thirty years never did anyone any good, so let’s talk.”

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