Page 100 of False Confidence

Liam leaned over her, offering her two fingers. “Get them wet for me,” was all he said before pushing them into her mouth. Jazz groaned around them, sucking and swirling her tongue. When Liam pulled them out, they were dripping. He barely gave her a second to tense before he circled the rim of her ass and pressed them inside her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Liam curled his fingers, moving them in time with his cock, and Jazz fell apart, screaming his name as she came, her pussy and ass clenching tightly around him. Kaleidoscope colors flashed behind her eyelids, shockwaves of pleasure rolling over her body. Liam groaned, pulling his fingers out of her, then his body folded over hers. He reached above her head, clasping her hand and coming inside her with a whispered, “I love you, Jasmine.”

“I love you,” she murmured back, hoarse and depleted, but so fucking happy.

They cleaned up in the shower, retrieved their sleepy four-legged baby from the guest bedroom, and climbed into bed, clinging to each other.

There was so much to talk about, so much to worry about, to be scared about, but, for once, she was trusting herself. She was trusting him.

The big conversations would come. She would keep exploring the facets of herself that she wanted to work on, she would go to the doctor and figure shit out with her periods so she could have the family she’d always dreamed of, the family they both wanted. She would grow up a little and be okay with it, because she wasn’t doing it on her own.

And Liam would be proud of her. Maggie and Cal, and Eliza and Danisha, would be proud of her. Maybe her parents would be proud of her, or maybe they wouldn’t, but it didn’t matter, not really. Because most importantly, Jazz would be proud of herself.

“I love you,” Liam told her with a sleepy smile, his green eyes glassy. Jazz pressed her forehead to his, wondering how in the hell she’d gotten so lucky to be loved by such an incredible man.

But even in love, Jazz was who she was, and she couldn’t stop her lips from lifting in a smirk. “Rule number seven: I love you more.”

“You can’t do that!” Liam protested.

“Rules are rules, baby.”

Liam’s eyes twinkled with a warning that made her toes curl. “You’re going to pay for that, darling.”

And she was going to enjoy paying for it—for the rest of their lives, if she got her way.

“Bring it on.”

“It’s perfect.”

“Exactly how I pictured it,” Liam agreed, squeezing her hand.

She turned and smiled at Liam’s side profile; in an unsurprising turn of events, the slicked back hair, ruffled white shirt, and sweeping black cloak were really doing it for her. But it was the black leather-style gloves and white plastic mask covering half his face that really brought Liam’s Phantom of the Opera costume to life—and it was those she’d be asking him to keep on when they got home later. She wasn’t a big fan of the musical, but Liam was, and she couldn’t resist the chance to see him in the mask. Even she could admit that the mustache only added to the look.

Jazz had curled her hair into tight ringlets, adding long extensions that fell down her back. She’d pinned the front away from her face, and painted her cheeks and lips scarlet red. The Christine to Liam’s Phantom. Her dress was white lace, falling off her shoulders, and showing off plenty of cleavage that Liam was struggling to keep his eyes from. It was almost bridal. Which was, of course, the point.

Jazz stared out at the party; cobwebs, bats, LED candles, and twinkling lights hung from the ceiling. Black lace tablecloths covered every table, and bloody hand and footprints had been stuck to the floor. Servers milled around, dressed in intricate clown costumes, serving shots with gummy eyeballs in them and strawberries dipped in white chocolate, decorated to look like ghosts. It was exactly as she’d imagined, when she’d dared to let herself dream of her and Liam’s Hallowedding.

“Look at you two,” Maggie said, approaching them with a grin. Cal had chosen their costumes—Shrek and Fiona—and Maggie looked good painted green. “You look amazing. Is this why you were forty minutes late to your own party?”

“Oh, no. We were late because?—”

“Maggie doesn’t need to know what we were doing, darling,” Liam interjected, and Maggie just rolled her eyes, smiling.

“That’s answer enough. Now that you’re here,” she raised a brow at Jazz. “Did you seriously hire clowns to serve food at your Halloween party even though your brother is terrified of them?”

“Maybe.”

“They’re following him around. Wait, did you tell them to do that?”

Jazz almost felt guilty. Almost. She shrugged. “I’m just saying he should’ve thought twice before hiding in my closet and jumping out at us after we watched The Blair Witch Project when we were twelve.”

“We’ll call off the clowns,” Liam said, but his mustache twitched like was trying not to laugh.

“Thank you,” Maggie said. “I don’t see why you need clowns any…” She trailed off, her eyes pausing on Jazz’s dress and widening as it clicked into place. They had promised to have clowns at their wedding. “Oh my God. Am I—is this—are you?—”

Jazz grabbed her hand and pulled her back through the crowd. “We’ll be back,” she called to Liam—her fiancé, she supposed, even if they had skipped the engagement. They’d known they’d have to factor in time for Maggie to freak out. It’s how she worked through things. Jazz had even pre-planned a quiet spot for them to hide away. They’d chosen the venue Cal used every year for the firm’s New Year’s Eve party, and even the lobby outside the function room was gorgeous. Marble floors, with high arched ceilings and swooping faux-cobwebs over the doors.

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