Full Contact by Tara Taylor Quinn

sudden. Too hot. But she didn’t want to be so obvious as to roll down the window. To be anything other than cool and composed and fine.
    She already had one episode of crazy to eradicate.
    â€œShe said you’ve helped victims of domestic violence.”
    â€œI knew what I was dealing with.”
    â€œShe thought the noninvasive touch might help.”
    â€œIt probably will if we’re working together honestly.”
    Ellen was filled with conflicting emotions. But stillsitting here. Still not putting the car in gear and driving away. “I told Shawna the only way I’d agree to meet with you was if she didn’t tell you why.”
    His nod was slow. Easy. “I know. She told me.” Those warm brown eyes of his…they captivated her. There was no judgment there. No pity, either.
    â€œI’d like to help.”
    She wasn’t surprised. And she was scared to death to let him. Scared beyond the possible negative reactions his professional touch might raise in her. Her emotions were more intense around this man. All of them. As though she was a little less in control.
    Which seemed dangerous.
    â€œGive me one more try,” he said. “I have an idea and if it doesn’t work, we shake hands and part ways.”
    â€œWhat’s your idea?”
    â€œYou seemed interested in my bike.”
    â€œIt’s hard to ignore.”
    â€œI’d like to take you for a ride.”
    That sounded personal. Like a date or something. No way. Uh-uh.
    Yet…his motorcycle. It intrigued her.
    â€œHow would that help?”
    â€œIt’s not a new idea,” he said. “The practice was suggested by a therapist I worked with in Florida and I have had some success with it. When you’re on my bike you have to be close to me, touch me, but you don’t have to face me. My hands are occupied at all times. And my safety would also be at risk if I did anything untoward.”
    â€œYou could take me anywhere you wanted to go. Stop the bike and turn around and—”
    â€œNot if we call Sheriff Richards and have him ride along with us.”
    She couldn’t believe she was listening to this. That she was still sitting here. But she wanted to be normal, right? Prided herself on being as capable as any other woman her age.
    And what woman with blood in her veins wouldn’t jump at the chance to go for a ride on the back of Black Leather’s bike? Ellen might be a bit uptight, but she wasn’t dead. Or blind.
    â€œYour natural inclination is to resist other people touching you,” he said. “So we put you in control. And hopefully, after a bit, you begin to trust me enough to move on to more traditional therapy.”
    She didn’t hate the idea. Except…
    â€œI don’t— Everyone in town…they think I’m… They don’t know I’m still struggling. I don’t want them to know. Because mostly I’m fine. And if they knew…”
    The way they had treated her following the rape… They made her feel as much a victim as the bastard who had raped her—although in a completely different way. The coddling made her feel weak. Incapable.
    â€œSo what are you saying?”
    â€œIf…we…do…this…I don’t want you to call Sheriff Richards.”
    She was considering the idea. Excitement and fear collided inside her, making her wish she hadn’t eaten breakfast.
    There was something about this man. Something different. And dangerous.
    And yet…she felt safe with him. As long as…
    Shawna had done background checks. He had a greatreputation. This is what he did for a living. And he was really successful at it.
    â€œYou call the shots, Ellen. If you don’t want me to call the sheriff, we won’t. You tell me where to drive, that’s where I drive. You want to stop, come back, we come back. You want to carry pepper spray, you carry pepper spray…”
    Ellen