Page 17 of False Confidence

“Yep.”

“Like at all? Not even alone?”

She shook her head, and he loosed a long breath. “Holy shit,” he repeated and, despite how awkward the whole situation was, Jazz couldn’t help but laugh. This, it seemed, just concerned Liam more. He rubbed his temples, shifting so he was sitting with his legs crossed. How the hell did a grown man look so good sitting criss-cross applesauce naked and hard? Jesus.

“Are you… okay? Have you spoken to a doctor? There could be some kind of medical reason.”

“I’m fine. Frustrated, don’t get me wrong, but otherwise all good. I saw my doctor after I realized I hadn’t been able to come for a few months, and I mention it every year when I see my OBGYN, but there doesn’t seem to be any kind of medical problem.” She shrugged. She knew it sounded bad, but she was used to it. It wasn’t a big deal. “It’s fine. I still have sex—obviously—and I still enjoy it. I just don’t finish.”

Her explanation did nothing to reassure Liam. If anything, his frown was just getting deeper. “Why didn’t you say anything? I get not mentioning it last time, we were both so fucking drunk, but if I’d known I would’ve?—”

“I’ve never told anyone,” she interrupted. “Other than my doctor. Not even Maggie knows.”

“Seriously? But you tell Maggie everything.”

“The first few times it happened, I wrote it off as stress because I was taking extra classes that semester.” Her parents had threatened to stop paying her tuition if she didn’t pick up extra classes, and Jazz had barely been juggling her regular class load. “By the time I realized something was wrong, Maggie was dealing with a lot with her parents and I didn’t want to worry her. And later it felt like it had been going on for too long.” Even to her ears, it sounded like a stream of weak excuses.

The truth was, she wasn’t sure why she hadn’t told Maggie. It was easier, she supposed, to be the fun friend who planned adventures and pulled Maggie out of her shell—sometimes willingly, sometimes not. It wasn’t that she never shared her problems with Maggie, she just didn’t share any problems that were more than mild inconveniences. Probably because Maggie wouldn’t be on board with Jazz avoiding shit and would insist they deal with whatever it was together. And she couldn’t let Maggie help her deal with things, because if she couldn’t fix them, Maggie would blame herself.

“You should talk to her about it. Maggie’s your person,” Liam said and Jazz grimaced. That was twice Liam had caught her not sharing everything with the person she claimed she shared everything with, twice she’d had nothing better than a weak explanation of why she hadn’t.

“I’ll think about it. But what I’m trying to say,” she continued, “is that this isn’t a reflection of your… skills.” She cringed at the word, and Liam’s lips flattened into a thin line. “I’m just saying, it’s not you, it’s me. Literally.”

“No one’s faked it with me since high school,” Liam said, and Jazz stared at him in disbelief.

“Now that is a level of self confidence even I don’t possess.”

“Obviously there have been people I haven’t been able to make come, but they’ve never faked it. I’m serious. It’s kind of my thing.” Pink tinged the edge of Liam’s ears, and Jazz got the feeling that he’d be bright red if he wasn’t still processing everything she’d thrown at him.

“Making people come is your thing?” He nodded, and she hummed. “So what, you’re like a pleasure dom or something?”

Liam tilted his head. “Among other things, yeah.”

She raised her brows, impressed. “Damn. What is going on in that Michaelson DNA?” Pleasure dom might actually put Daddy Michaelson to shame, and Jazz desperately wanted to know what other things Liam had up his sleeve. She also wanted to tell Maggie, but there was no world in which Maggie would want details of Cal’s son’s sexual proclivities.

Liam wrinkled his nose. “What does that me—actually no, I don’t want to know. Never mind.”

“What’s your record?” she asked, propping herself up on her elbows and pretending not to notice the way Liam’s eyes followed her breasts as they bounced.

“Thirty-six in five hours,” he said and Jazz whistled.

“Damn. It couldn’t be me. Clearly.”

Her attempt at a joke fell flat. Liam groaned, running a hand through his hair. His dark brown waves were messy, thanks to her grabbing at them while he went down on her. She’d come close so many times, and Jazz couldn’t deny her disappointment that she hadn’t quite been able to get herself over the edge. It certainly wasn’t for Liam’s lack of trying.

“Are you seriously telling me you’re okay with the fact that you haven’t come in a decade?”

“Define okay. Would I like to orgasm? God, yes, but it is what it is. Apparently my body doesn’t want to do it.”

Liam sighed, lying down beside her and turning onto his side so he was facing her. She mirrored him, their noses mere inches apart. He reached out, running his fingers through the tangles in the ends of her hair before pushing it over her shoulders. “I could try.”

She quirked a brow. “Was that not you trying? Because Jesus, that was fucking incredible—lack of orgasm aside.”

“Of course I was trying, but we can try something different. Like I said, this is my thing. I have a lot of… techniques, I guess. Not to mention a shit ton of toys at home. I want to make this happen for you.”

He spoke so earnestly, his emerald eyes so open and intense, that Jazz’s spine tensed. She swallowed, looking away from him. “I’m not a challenge, Liam.”

“What? Shit, no, I didn’t mean it like that, darling. I’m sorry.” He grabbed her hand from where it rested on her stomach and brought it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss against her palm. “I want to help. You helped me by coming to the wedding, and I want to do this for you.”

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