Bailey lay curled up against my chest as we watched an NHL game on my bed with my arm around her. We chatted idly, only half-following the game as neither of us were particularly invested in the teams playing. As far as a weekday evening went, it was pretty perfect.

Except for one thing: the conversation we needed have. The sure-to-be-difficult, sure-to-be-uncomfortable, hopefully-not-disastrous conversation.

I wasn't sure whether it was too soon to talk about this, but it was going to weigh on my conscience until we did. And I definitely didn't want to do it the night we went out for dinner, potentially fucking up her birthday twice in one year.

The whole situation made me furious. I literally treated one-night stands and casual hookups better than Morrison had treated his own girlfriend. It was wrong on every level.

Here goes nothing.

Chase reached over, turning down the volume on the TV.

"Hey James?" He turned and studied my face, voice low and gentle. "How much do you remember from between the time we left XS and the time we got back to my place?"

"Not a lot," I said, shaking my head. "I remember getting sick. Vaguely. That's about it. Why?"

His brows knit together. "Because you told me something that night and I don't think you remember telling me."

Alarms went off in my head, complete with blaring sirens and flashing red lights. Whatever he was about to say, I was certain the gist was: he didn't like me anymore because of it and now he was about to end things between us. Already.

Cue maximum panic mode.

"You're just bringing this up this now?! That was ages ago."

"I held off because it's something personal," he said. "I didn't want you to think I was teasing you or being a dick. But with the way things have changed between us, it feels wrong for me to know this when you don't know that I know."

My breath snagged, heart pole-vaulting into my throat.

No.

I didn't. I couldn't have. I wouldn't have.

"What did I say to you?" I whispered, panic winding up my neck like a vise. "Tell me, please."

"You told me that Morrison sucked in bed." Chase paused, uncharacteristically hesitant. Time slowed down as I held my breath, waiting for him to continue.

"Specifically, that he didn't go down and that you faked it with him like, on the regular."

Just like that, my dignity evaporated into thin air. Not even my close friends knew that second one, and I'd told Chase when he was a stranger? Good lord. What was I thinking? And it was infinitely more humiliating given that I knew how much more experienced he was than me.

"Okay." I wriggled out of his embrace, sliding out of bed and standing up. "If you need me, I'm going to go home and die of embarrassment. Tell my parents to get me a nice headstone. Grey marble, something like that."

"Wait. Can we talk about this please?" He reached over and gently grabbed my hand.

I spun around to face him, cheeks scorching. "Why do you even like me if you know this?"

"What?" Hurt flashed across his face and his lips tugged into a frown. "I like you for a million reasons, and none of them have to do with sex."

"That's a relief," I said, "because I seem to be defective in that department."

Shame simmered in my gut, caustic and searing, threatening to boil over.

Chase tugged my hand, pulling me to sit down beside him. He rubbed my skin with his thumb, making slow, smooth strokes.

"You're not defective."

"Well, it sure feels like it." My voice cracked and I drew in a jagged breath.

"Oh man." He sighed, hanging his head. Seconds ticked by as his back moved up and down with his long, smooth inhalation and exhalations.

"I feel like an asshole," he said. "I didn't mean to upset you. I've been thinking about how to talk to you about this for a while now because I didn't want to fuck it up."

"You didn't," I said, fighting back tears. "It's fine."

Somehow, I felt bad that he felt bad. Which really only compounded my overall distress. I had a complicated mix of shame, sadness, regret, and fear swirling within me.

And maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit of relief.

"James." Chase shifted slightly and angled himself to face me. He took my hands in his, which were warm, slightly callused, and comforting. "I'm not judging you, I promise."

I looked down, avoiding his eyes. "You should be."

"Trust me, you're not the one I'm judging in this situation."

"I honestly want to die right now," I said, shaking my head as I stared at the textured grey comforter. "I can't overstate that enough. No one knows that. I can't believe I told you."

"No, I'm glad you did. I don't want you to feel like you need to fake anything with me." He leaned closer, brushing a stray piece of hair out of my face. "If something I'm doing isn't working, I'd rather know. That's why I wanted to talk about this."

"To talk about how I'm broken, you mean."

"You're not broken," he said softly. "Lots of girls can't come from penetration alone. It's pretty common. Normal."

I mean, in theory, I knew this. The internet and women's magazines said as much. But it didn't change the fact that it made me feel inadequate in some way, like I was faulty—or like certain parts of me were, at least.

Chase scanned my face, dark eyes patient as he waited for a response.

I didn't know what to say, so I just shrugged. "Okay."

"It could be what the other person was doing." He raised his eyebrows, speaking carefully. "Or not doing...Or not doing properly."

"I don't know." As much as I liked the idea of throwing Luke under the bus, I was pretty sure there was something wrong with me. I drew in a breath, holding it until my lungs felt like they were going to explode. "It's just really hard to get me off."

"I'm up for the challenge." He grinned. "Literally."

A sad half-laugh escaped from the back of my throat, because he was too smooth for my own good. Even when I felt like hiding under a rock permanently.

"I mean, I can..." I fumbled, searching my brain for a way to explain. "I'm sorry, this is hard to talk about without bringing Luke into it."

Because this all started when Luke began to sulk afterward if I didn't have an orgasm—as if that was going to somehow help it along. Though the fact that I did fake it so often had some disturbing implications. Either Luke never even noticed or, worse still, he knew and just didn't care.

"It's okay," he said. "You can talk about him."

"He used to complain because only certain positions would do it for me, or I took too long. Sometimes it was just...easier to let him think I had."

And now I'd just shared the most intimate details of my former relationship with Chase, things even Zara and Noelle weren't privy to. Great.

"He said what?" Chase's brows snapped together. "What kind of sorry excuse for an athlete is he? Fucking Christ." His jaw ticked and he exhaled heavily, shaking his head. "Sorry. It just pisses me off to know you were treated like that."

"I don't know," I said. "I think it's a me problem."

It had to be, when it was that elusive and difficult to reach. There were maybe two things that worked, some of the time, and that was it. Even then, it was about as reliable as a rain dance.

"Not even a little." He reached over, smoothing my hair.

I sucked in a shaky breath. "Agree to disagree."

"Not on this one. Morrison is a fucking idiot, full stop. It's the eleventh commandment."

This time, I laughed for real. He leaned in, brushing his lips against mine. The tension in my body loosened as I returned the kiss, lips opening against his. He pushed inside my mouth but it was tender, gentle. As we pulled apart, his hands wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer to him.

"You're not just a means to an end, James."

The urge to cry returned and I swallowed hard.

Chase leaned down, lips grazing along the curve of my neck, which was a welcome distraction.

"Plus, the idea of getting you off is so fucking hot," he murmured.

"Really?" It was hard to wrap my mind around him thinking about that specifically rather than him getting off with me.

"Hell yeah." His gaze met mine and he bit his bottom lip, nodding. "Do you know how many times I've thought about that?"

"No idea."

"A lot." Chase's eyes danced.

"Ah, so you do have a dirty mind."

"Dirty for you."

I laughed, shaking my head. He picked me up and moved both of us back to the headboard, leaning back against it.

"Can we talk about this a little more? Or are you too uncomfortable?"

"Yes and yes." I grimaced. "I'll try."

"Just to clarify," he said, "you have had an orgasm before. So you can."

"Right. It's just really hit or miss. Heavy on the miss."

"Then it's just finding what works. Some of that is trial and error. But if you fake it, I won't know what works."

Fair point. But I felt incredibly pressured to live up to some imaginary standard where orgasms came freely and easily during sex no matter what the position, speed, or angle. In reality, it was like trying to spot a freaking unicorn that only appeared in the woods twice a year between 8 and 8:05 PM when the moon was full. Theoretically possible, but incredibly rare.

"I guess that makes sense."

"Do you know what works? Like, is it hit or miss even when you're alone?" He asked carefully.

Oh my god. Speaking of wanting to die. I looked away, gaze dropping to the grey comforter beside me.

"We are not talking about that."

"Okay," he said. "We don't have to." He fell quiet, stroking my hair. But we'd gone this far with the conversation, so I guess nothing was too personal anymore. What did I have to lose?

I sighed. "Yes, even alone."

"Hmm," he hummed, rumbling low in his chest. "Have you tried a vibrator?"

"What?" I squeaked, eyes snapping back up to his.

"Like, a sex toy," he said. "It might help."

"During sex or alone?" I asked, deeply mortified to be having this conversation at all. At this point, surely, I had used up all nine of my lives. It would be a great time for a sinkhole to appear and swallow me up. I welcomed the thought.

He shrugged. "Either."

Luke's ego—and male parts—would have deflated faster than a slapshot if I had suggested using a vibrator with him. Hell, he would have freaked out if I'd even owned a sex toy, which was one reason I didn't. The other being that I was kind of intimidated by the idea.

"You don't think most guys would have a problem with that?"

"No," he said, perfectly straight faced. "Why would they?"

Sometimes, Chase forgot that not everyone else had the same titanium sense of self-assuredness. Particularly, guys when it came to their manhood. But he had BDE for a reason, so maybe that made things easier for him in the confidence department. Nothing fazed him. Case in point, this entire discussion.

"I don't know." I chewed my bottom lip. "I guess I thought it might make them feel threatened."

"Baby, I can do all kinds of things to you that a little toy can't."

He gave me a mischievous smile that, despite the situation, definitely had its intended effect. Something inside of me really, really wanted to find out what those things were.

"I bet," I said, suddenly a little breathless.

"But in this case, it might help you get over the hump, so to speak. Especially alone."

"Hump? That was the worst pun ever." I groaned, flopping back onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling.

"I know, right?" Chase leaned down on his elbow beside me. He traced a finger along my ribcage, down to my hip. "Look, it's just a theory. But being more comfortable with your body alone might help you be more comfortable with your body with me. Does that track? You can tell me if you think I'm wrong."

"No..." I sighed. "It does."

"You still haven't answered my other question." He ducked his head, catching my eye. "Have you?"

I covered my face with my hands. "What do you think?"

"Oh, I think we should go shopping." He grinned.

"Shopping?"

"Yeah," he said. "You know, pick up a little something for you."

"I don't know." I crinkled my nose. "The idea of a sex toy seems so freaky."

"It's okay to be a little freaky. You can be freaky with me."

I pressed my lips into a line for a minute, considering.

"Fine. I'll be open minded."

"Good," he said, gaze holding mine. "And as far as you and me go, I'm in this for you. I want to make you feel good. Just remember that, okay? You can trust me."

"I know." Somehow, I did.

Some chapters are harder to write than others and this was one of them! But now the air has been cleared at least, right?