Sterling (Carolina Reapers 6)

I scrunched my brows. “What issue?” My voice trembled on the question.

I knew which issue. And just the thought of it, just the mere fact that he’d brought it up had a cold sweat breaking out on the back of my neck.

He took a step toward me, his body towering over mine as he lowered his voice. “You know what. Your fear of confined spaces.” His hand twitched at his side almost as if he were going to graze the back of it over mine but then thought better of it. “You told me you hated it. The fear. That it made you feel helpless.”

My heart raced in my chest, and I couldn’t tell if it was the fact that he was talking about it or if it was just him. His scent swirled in my senses, the warmth from his body practically begged me to reach out and span the small distance between us. And those eyes? God, he was looking down at me with such hope and confidence, like he alone had the power to help me walk through this fear of mine and come out stronger on the other side.

“Let me help you,” he said. “Like I did that night.”

The memories flashed in my mind, an incomprehensible mixture of fear and desire. It churned and ached and throbbed inside me.

“That would only benefit me,” I said, shaking my head. “You’d be doing two things for me. What’s in it for you?” I asked, my voice breathless. God, I needed to take a step back. To breathe in air that wasn’t filled with him, but I couldn’t physically pull myself away.

“I get to spend time with you,” he said. That smirk of his shaped his lips, and heat flashed up the center of me.

“It could take…a while,” I said. “I’ve been to therapy. I’ve had this issue for years.” Ever since that game of hide and seek when I was ten. I shoved that memory down, having zero strength to revisit it right now. “It won’t happen overnight.”

“You’d be surprised how much I could change in one night.” He cocked a brow at me, and I swear my cheeks were on fire. “But I understand,” he said with more seriousness. “I don’t care how long it takes.”

Why? Was it just because he wanted to help me? For real? Or did he actually want to get to know me better? Or was it a combination of both?

The questions stormed through my head, right alongside the idea of spending that much time with him outside the arena. With his attitude toward Maxim—and him being my brother’s best friend therefore he constantly popped up around my house—it could get complicated super quick.

“If I agree,” I said, heart racing. “But I have a condition.”

“Naturally,” he said, a full smile on his lips now.

“No Maxim talk,” I said, and the smile fell off his lips. “Not unless it’s about you and him,” I clarified. “Because while I’m more than willing to hear that story when you’re ready to tell me, I will not become a median between you two. Loyalty is important to me. So is family. I’m not going to be the go-between with whatever is happening between you two.”

Something resolved settled into his features, and my stomach plummeted the longer he kept those gorgeous lips sealed. God, why did I have to put a stipulation on it? Why did I have to blow my shot at spending more time with the man who legit drove me bat-shit crazy and deliciously wild at the same time?

Because you don’t want to come between them.

Right.

“Fine,” he said, and I swear the breath I released was heard even downstairs in the locker room.

“Really?”

The smile was back. “You sound surprised,” he said, leaning one muscled arm on the wall next to us. The motion brought him another inch closer to me, and if I wanted—which I so didn’t—all I’d have to do was reach up on my tiptoes, and our mouths would brush. “And excited,” he added.

I kept my feet firmly planted on the floor and fastened him with a glare for good measure. “Oh, yes,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’m so excited to plunge myself headfirst into situations that literally incapacitate my body.” A tremble vibrated through my muscles. In truth, my therapist had been gently nudging me in this direction for a while. And the idea of doing it with him by my side? It didn’t seem as terrifying as I once thought. Why was that? Was it simply because I’d already been in one such situation with him before and lived to talk about it? Or did it have more to do with the connection I couldn’t deny pulsing between us?

“You don’t have to worry,” he said, his voice low and hushed between us. “I’ll take care of you, London.” He held my gaze for a few burning moments before he pushed off that wall and walked down the hallway.