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

“Really?” It was hard to wrap my mind around that. Sex had always seemed like it was more about pleasing the guy.

“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 and shook my head.

He picked me up and moved both of us back until we were propped against the headboard . “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 really hit or miss. Heavy on the miss.” My cheeks flared with heat, and I worked overtime to maintain eye contact with him.

“Then it’s a matter of finding what works. Some of that is trial and error. But if you fake it, I won’t know what works.”

Fair point. But there had been so much pressure 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 8:00 and 8:05 p.m. 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. Another swell of humiliation crashed over me, and I looked away, gaze dropping to the comforter again. “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, 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 cringed. Surely, I had used up all nine of my lives by now. It would be a great time for a sinkhole to open and swallow me up.

He shrugged. “Either.”

Luke’s ego—and male parts—would have deflated faster than a slapshot if I had suggested using a vibrator. 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.

“Don’t most guys have a problem with that?”

“No,” he said, perfectly straight-faced. “Why would they?”