Sterling (Carolina Reapers 6)

And I wanted to know.

Which was almost as terrifying as where he was about to take me.

“You look beautiful,” he said as I stopped before him.

My heart did that flutter thing, but I shrugged. “Well, if I’m going to go down like this, I figured I may as well look good while I do it.”

Jansen laughed, shaking his head. “Are movie theaters that hard for you?” he asked as he held the door open for me. I nodded, following him inside. He walked right past the ticket booth, giving a wave to the young kid behind it before heading down the long theater hall. “I figured with the openness of the space, it wouldn’t be as bad,” he said, holding open the theater door for me.

Ice prickled down my spine, and my chest clenched.

No windows.

Only two exits.

Hundreds of people there to witness my panic—

“Hey,” he said, cutting into my racing thoughts. He stepped into my space until all I could see or smell or feel was him. Cupping my cheeks with such gentleness, he met my gaze. “It’s empty,” he said. “I know you said you crowds weren’t an issue, but I figured this would be easier.”

I raised my brows, leaning into his delicate touch. How could someone so strong be so…tender? A warm shiver chased away the ice. “Empty?”

Jansen nodded, dropping his hands from my face. I almost whimpered at the lack of contact, but he held out his hand for me to take it.

A gesture.

My choice. He wouldn’t haul me in there if I actually didn’t want to go. Just like at the amusement park. He was here to help me, guide me, support me.

I sucked in a deep breath, resolved in the notion that half the battle with the panic was that those who witnessed it didn’t understand it. Couldn’t or wouldn’t understand it. The fact that Jansen not only knew about what happened to me that I couldn’t control but took the care and time to support me through it? It was enough to make my knees weak for an entirely different reason than what we were about to do.

“When was the last time you saw a movie?” he asked as I took his hand.

He led us into the darkened theater, and I blew out a breath. Every seat in the place was empty. Just like he’d said. “I stream at home all the time,” I answered him, my eyes wide as I took in the vacant, windowless space. “You rented out the entire theater?”

“Of course, I did,” he answered like it was the most obvious solution in the world. He motioned to a couple of seats in the front row—floor seats, close to both exits. God, I might’ve fallen for him just a little for that gesture alone.

But I couldn’t. Because this…this wasn’t a date. This was two colleagues working out a mutual agreement in order to better our careers. He cooperated and improved his image for his first season back with the Reapers, and I nailed my first major assignment from Langley. Win-win.

Colleagues who sometimes kissed in intense and severe situations. And I was sure the kiss had just been another day in the life of Jansen Sterling for him, but for me? It had shaken awake something inside of me I’d never felt before. An all-consuming hunger. A tingling ache I couldn’t soothe myself.

“When was the last time?” he asked again as I settled into the leather seat next to him. The giant screen flared to life, illuminating the room with upcoming attractions.

“Sixteen,” I said, wringing my hands. I tried to force myself not to think about the thick, dark walls. The lack of exterior air. How hard it would be to get out if there had been a crowd of people here.

“I thought the claustrophobia started younger than that?”

“It did,” I said, not wanting to rehash that particular memory with him again. “But my high school boyfriend at the time, didn’t take it seriously. He knew about it, but not in a way that gave him any real insight to what it would put me through.” I sighed. “He said he had a surprise for me, and when we ended up at the theater, I was shocked. My panic flared, but he goaded me into going. A ton of his friends were there, and I didn’t want to make a scene, so he tugged me inside, forced me to sit in the very top row, and…” My chest tightened at the memory. The way I’d had to run out of the place, nearly falling down the full flight of stairs as I did. The way I’d sat outside, tucked against the building’s brick wall, tears streaming down my face as I tried and failed to get my body to stop shaking. “I didn’t really see much of the movie,” I said.