But he’d somehow, incredibly, he’d chosen me.
Jansen laughed, the smile on his lips real and genuine and enough to shake away the fear digging its claws in me, whispering that I couldn’t walk through that door. “I’ve rented out an escape room for my severely claustrophobic girlfriend, and you say I’m amazing?”
I reached up on my tiptoes, crushing my lips against his. He held me against him, slanting his mouth over mine, groaning as I slid my tongue between his lips. I fisted his shirt, my heart fluttering as he didn’t pull away because we were in public, didn’t try to tame what was happening between us.
He. Simply. Let. Me. Be.
And in his arms?
I was a flame, and he was the oxygen that helped me burn.
“If this is you stalling,” he said between kisses. “I can do this all day.”
I laughed, breaking our kiss as I smiled up at him. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s do this.”
His brows raised, and he waited a few moments, giving me another chance to say no.
So, I did what I’d become very good at. I grabbed his arm and hauled his sexy ass into the building.
Ten minutes later, we were set up in the escape room Jansen had bought out for just the two of us. The guide explained the rules to us, the objective, but I didn’t hear most of it.
Not with the noise in my head—like an old television caught between channels—nothing but crackling white snow. Icy claws crept up my skin, sinking into my lungs.
There were only four walls to the room, the door on the farthest one. No windows. And the guide kept saying lock. And even though Jansen had assured me there was a giant green emergency escape button—one I could clearly see right now—I still shivered as the guide exited the room and shut the door behind him.
Jansen remained quiet and calm by my side, and my shoulders tensed. I hated that we weren’t like the other normal couples who were booked for the other rooms in the establishment. Wearing happy, excited faces, eager to challenge themselves with a fun, safe game.
But not me.
This was a test to help me heal the old wound that had festered since childhood. And Jansen, he wasn’t complaining. Wasn’t pushing me to just have a good time and let it go. No, he stood there, holding me, patient. Standing in support, an island when I was thrashing and stranded in an endless ocean. Because that is how the panic felt—a lonely, cold, vast ocean with no escape. Nothing but the exhaustion of trying to stay afloat, keep your head above the raging water, survive.
But with an island so close to me?
It didn’t seem such a lonely place. Such a desolate, terrifying place.
Jansen’s support, his willingness to understand and support me felt like he was offering me a life raft. But I had to be the one to reach for it. He didn’t have the power to heal me. Only I had that capacity, but he was able to help me with the tools I needed to do so.
And slowly, with more strength than I thought possible, I reached internally for the line he’d cast. Mentally gripping it, I grabbed it with both hands, hauling myself closer and closer to the safety of that island until I made it to land and was able to breathe.
“Where are we supposed to look first?” I asked, my eyes clearing as I met his blue gaze. I glanced around the room, appreciating it for the first time. It was an Egyptian theme—golden walls covered in hieroglyphics, and a colorfully painted sarcophagus sat in the middle of the room. Other wooden crates were scattered about, some with clay pots and urns on them, others with elaborate puzzle boxes that looked like ancient safes.
Omigod we were locked in a tomb—that was the theme of this room.
I waited for that panic to return, to incapacitate me, to knock me off that island and send me right back into that endless, cruel ocean…
But it didn’t come.
I felt it, like a phantom sensation, just skating beneath the surface of the new strength I’d mastered, but it wasn’t enough to crush me.
The knowledge alone filled me with an almost intoxicating sensation. Or that could be the way Jansen was looking at me, all fire in his eyes mixing with pride. “There should be a concealed scroll that will lead us to the next clue. We just have to find it.”
I nodded, dropping his hands and crossing the room. On my own two feet. Without my island. I made it to the other side of the room where a crate with four different clay jars sat. “A scroll could be in here,” I said, and Jansen’s eyes practically shined as he nodded and came to stand next to me.
“Definitely,” he said. We each grabbed a jar and started searching.
Thirty minutes and four clues later, we were stuck, and a cold sweat had crept onto the back of my neck. Nothing debilitating, but enough to make breathing more of a struggle.
“How are you doing?” he asked, smoothing his hand over my back as we took a break from searching for the makeshift key that would open the sarcophagus.
“I’m okay,” I said, blowing out a slow breath.
“We can go,” he said. “If you need to. The door is just a magnet. All we have to do is push the button, and we’re out.” He pointed toward the door, and I’m not going to lie, I thought about it. For just a split second.
But looking at him, the compassion in his eyes, the understanding…I knew without a shred of doubt that I didn’t want that out.
Not here.
Not with him.
Not ever.
“No,” I said, a rush of adrenaline spiking through my blood. His eyes widened as I smiled up at him, now breathless for an entirely different reason.
God, how had I ever hesitated to give this man my entire heart? To tell him the truth about how I felt about him?
I spanned the small distance between us, reaching up to gently clutch his neck. “I don’t want the out, Jansen,” I said, and he grinned down at me.
“Okay,” he said, his eyes curious.
“I don’t want the out…ever.”
He cocked a brow at me. “I’m having a hard time following, babe.”
I reached up, planting a soft, sensuous kiss on his lips. I drew back, shaking my head at my own absurdity. “If I have to be trapped in an elevator, a room, anywhere…I want it to be with you.”
He smoothed his knuckles over my cheek.
“I love you, Jansen.” The words rushed from me. Before, when he’d said it, I’d been terrified by what I felt for this man. I’d been swept up in a storm of emotion and hadn’t been able to say the words back. And there was something to be said about saying them on my own. Without it being an expected obligation.
His eyes guttered as he stilled before me. His gaze fell to my mouth, and he grazed his thumb over my bottom lip. “Say that again,” he said, his voice pure gravel.
A warm shudder made my body tremble. “I love you,” I said, barely getting the words out before he crushed his mouth on mine. “I love you,” I repeated, sighing the words against his kiss.
Heat pooled between my thighs, the hunger I had for him intensifying to almost painful levels. He jerked his head back, sucking in a breath. “You want to finish this?”
“I can finish this,” I said with absolute confidence.
He smirked, his eyes churning with primal need. “Do you want to?”
I shook my head. “I want you.”
He glanced behind us, toward the door, as if he were seriously contemplating fucking me on the first available surface—which was a fake sarcophagus.
I laughed, smacking his perfect ass. “Take me home, caveman.”
He growled, showing just the primal male I’d accused him of being.
We were in his home within twenty minutes.
And we didn’t make it two steps in the house before I damn near climbed him like a tree.
We left a trail of clothes in our wake, our mouths crashing together as if those three little words had unleashed something starved within us.
“Fuck, you’re already drenched for me,” Jansen groaned as he stroked his fingers through my slit. I rock
ed against his hand, digging my nails into the muscles of his shoulders. He hissed, moving his hands to my hips and hauling me up until I locked my ankles around his back.
He took me to the wall, the first available space, and made no preambles of the torture he normally liked to dole out.
No, he plunged inside me with one, sharp stroke that had me throwing my head back. Again and again, he thrust inside me, hitting every deep, aching spot with delicious precision. I clung to him, being able to do nothing but hold on to him as he fucked me against the wall. My mind reeled as my body tangled into a million burning, aching knots.
And Jansen touched every single one of them.
And since I was merely a puppet at his mercy in this position, I did the only thing I could do—crushed my mouth to his. I kissed him, devouring his mouth like I would his cock later. Sighed and moaned between his lips, relishing the taste of him as he pounded inside me with such a primal branding I could barely breathe or think straight.
Reduced to nothing but sensation, I succumbed to the glittering pleasure he wrung from my body. He held me like I weighed nothing, drove into me like he wanted to brand himself across my soul. Wanted to ensure that no one would ever be able to follow him.
And no one ever would.
No one could ever or would ever compare to him. This incredible, fantastic, brilliant man.
“I love you,” I said, flicking my tongue along the edges of his teeth.
He growled, driving into me harder, faster.
Pushing me over that sweet, sharp edge until I shattered around him.
Relentless in his hunger, he kept plunging into me, the heat of him, the rock-hard length of him dragging one orgasm out into another. My thighs trembled as I clenched them around him, my cries likely sounding down the fucking street.
I didn’t care.
I couldn’t care.
Because all that existed or mattered was him and me and us.
This love that burned and sparkled and consumed. That strengthened and shook me.
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his fingers digging in tighter where he held me against the wall.
I tangled my fingers in his hair, yanking his head back so I could watch him come. And the sight of it—those churning blue eyes that ignited like blue flames, those muscles flexing as he effortlessly held me against that wall, the way he owned every single inch of me in that moment…
It sent me right over the edge with him. Again.
And after? We collapsed to the floor, a mess of tangled limbs and heaved breaths.
I’d never felt happier or more complete than I did in that moment.
I was nearly drunk on the knowledge that Jansen Sterling had claimed me, heart and soul.
15
Sterling
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The edge of the desk bit into the back of my thighs as I stared at the clock on the wall in London’s office like it was the countdown on a nuclear weapon. Fifteen minutes. That’s exactly how long I had to get my ass downstairs and into the locker room to gear up.
“Then you need to get another security screener down there,” London said as she walked through the door, her cell phone at her ear. “Because we can’t have an hour-long line to get through security, Sean. It’s not acc—” Her eyes widened slightly as she saw me, and then her expression softened. “Call Rob and ask him for another screener. I have to go.” She hung up and slipped her phone into her back pocket.
“No rest for the wicked, huh?” I asked. “You’re supposed to be off today.” She’d even come in casual—jeans and a fitted, black Reaper jacket.
“Right?” She took a seat next to me on her desk. “Sean hasn’t quite figured out the staffing issues.”
“Don’t worry, next year there will only be one desk in this room, and it will be yours.” I put my arm around her shoulder and tucked her close to my side. Just having her near settled my stomach.
“Speaking of this room…” She nailed me with those glacier-blue eyes. “Are you hiding? Usually you’re the first one in the locker room, and I can’t help but notice that you’re about fifteen minutes from the mandatory check-in time.”
I glanced at the clock. “Fourteen minutes.”
“I know today has to be hard for you.” She stroked her hand down my thigh in a soothing motion.
“I’ve never played when I knew he was in the stands. He’s shown up to a couple of games, but I only knew afterward, and I’ve sure as hell never been on the ice with Maxim at the same time.” Great, the nausea was back in full force.
“What can I do for you?” she asked gently.
I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Just love me.”
“I do. I love you with my whole heart.” She tipped her face up and kissed me. “You are an amazing goalie, Jansen. Sure, maybe he gave you some good genetics when it comes to hand-eye coordination or something, but the rest is you. Your training. Your hard work. Your dedication. He can’t touch you out there.”
“Still feels like I have something to prove.”
“Only to yourself. The rest of us are already well aware of what an incredible player—incredible man you are.”
The knot in my chest loosened with her words, and I kissed her again before rising to my feet. “I love you, London Foster.”
Her smile was bright enough to make me fall all over again. “Good. Now go. I’ll see you after.”
“You’re not going to wish me good luck?” I teased, already backing toward the door.
“You’ve never needed luck, Jansen. Now go!” She shooed me off with a grin, and I went.
The hallways beneath Reaper arena weren’t crowded yet. Security was always tight on game day, and I made my way toward the locker room with minimal interference until I neared the fork in the hallway that intersected the players’ entrance and the path to the locker room.
There, two women with passes around their necks waited, both leaning against the wall. One was blonde, and one brunette, but that was all I noticed until one stepped into my path, effectively blocking my way.
“Oh, my God,” the brunette whispered. “You’re him.”
I put on the smile I used for fans. “Depends on who you think I am.”
“You’re Jansen.” She stared at me with wide, blue eyes, the color draining from her face as she gripped the thick strap of her purse with both hands.
She was a beautiful girl, but I wasn’t interested. Besides, no one in the world could hold a candle to what London stirred inside me.
“I am.” I peered to the left, over her head, and caught Coach McPherson looking at me from where he stood at the entrance to the locker room, tapping his watch. “And I am going to get reamed if I don’t get into the locker room.”
“Right,” she said, shaking her head like she needed to clear it. “It’s just that I’ve heard so much about you that I wanted to meet you.” She stepped to the side, making room so I could pass.
“Well, hi,” I said, maintaining my fan smile. “I’m Jansen Sterling.” There was something oddly familiar about her face, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Had I seen her at a game before? “It’s nice to meet you.”
She swallowed and shifted her feet nervously. “I guess you should probably get to your game.”
“They do tend to get mad if the starting goalie doesn’t show up,” I joked.
She laughed, a smile flashing across her face. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.” I nodded to her and the quiet blonde who stood just behind her, like she was ready to catch the brunette if she fell. “Enjoy the game…” I waited for her to say her name.
The blonde glanced between her friend and me, then nudged her.
“Mila,” the brunette said, her chin rising slightly as she took a shaky breath. “Mila Zolotov. I’m…your little sister.”
I blinked once. Twice. Somehow I managed to force some air into my lungs while I looked at her again. Her hair was the same light brown Maxim’s was, and there was someth
ing about her cheekbones that reminded me of him, too. Holy shit.
“From what I know of you, which isn’t much”—she scrunched her nose—“you’ll probably say something like I don’t have a little sister. Right?”
My mouth opened to reply, but I shut it because she was right.
“But you do. It’s me.” There was a vulnerability in her eyes that somehow glued my feet to the fucking floor.
Maxim, I could ignore. He was an absolute asshole who’d shown up with a chip on his shoulder and hatred in his eyes. But this girl? There wasn’t any malice in her, at least none that I could see at first glance.
“We have the same eyes,” I muttered. “Mine are more gray, but the shape…”
She nodded. “Our grandmother. Maxim and Nikolai have Dad’s eyes, but you and I…” She teared up but shook it off. “Well, we get them from our grandmother.”
“Sterling!” Coach called out.
I put my forefinger up in his direction, asking for another minute, but I was going to need way more than that to digest this.
“And you?” My gaze jumped to the blonde at Mila’s back. Was she another relative?
“Me?” The girl’s features were delicate, with big green eyes that reminded me of a Disney princess, and the majority of her body was hidden under an oversized Reaper hoodie. She shook her head, which sent her glasses sliding down her nose. “I’m just Mila’s friend.” She pushed the glasses back into place.
Mila smiled. “Evie is my best friend. We’re up at Dartmouth right now, but we’ve both been accepted to graduate school here in Charleston.” The grip on her purse tightened. “I mean, Evie got in at Stanford, but we’ve been stuck at the-hip since kindergarten, and the University of Charleston has a great MFA program for photography, and you should see the pictures she takes. I keep telling her that she can’t turn down Stanford, right—”
“Mila,” Evie whispered, her cheeks turning pink.
“Right.” Mila squeezed her eyes shut and took a breath before opening them again. “Sorry, I babble when I’m nervous, and well, I’ve been thinking about this moment since forever. I kind of ambushed you, didn’t I?”
Sterling: A Carolina Reapers Novel Page 16
