My body seizes up so tight at the thought that my shoulders, abs, and thighs begin to ache. The idea of Cole or anyone touching me makes me want to puke. It’s terrifying. Getting used to someone’s touch requires the kind of vulnerability I detest, and I have no interest in desensitizing myself to Cole. For some reason, especially Cole.
“I want to punch something,” I say honestly, my fists burning with the urge to make contact.
Kerry grins. “I understand that. This is pulling a lot of your triggers. You’ll need a long workout after this.”
I’d say she has no idea, but she does. “So, what, just let him touch me? Work through the torture. Get used to the feel of his hands.”
This is ridiculous. We live in the same space and are together all the time when he’s not footballing, but I keep my distance. Never closer than a foot, and now, we’re supposed to starttouching!
She clearly senses my panic and sets her tea on the table beside her. She leans forward, resting her arms on her legs. “Ryder, you have a gift that few possess. You see and feel things on a level others will never experience.” Her voice is calm and reassuring, but I feel none of it.
“Gift my ass. It’s a freaking curse.”
She grins. “Yes, sometimes. But it’s what makes you great at what you do. It’s also what might help you with this assignment.”
Her lips fall, and she’s back to serious mode, causing my body to shift into rigor mortis mode.
“I imagine if you take Cole’s hand, or it brushes against your arm, you’ll immediately detect and track every intricate detail. Whether they’re hot or cold, clammy or dry. You’ll note every callous and scratch. You’ll know his hands, and it will be ok. He’s not given you one reason to associate his touch with threat or alarm.”
Now, I really want to vomit. “So, what? Just. . .let him touch me? Ask him to?” I want to scream and kick something as hard as I can.
She rests back, crossing her legs casually. I’m sure trying to soothe my severe anxious agitation.
“Ryder, what does he smell like?”
Clean, like grass and pine.
“When you stand next to him, what do you feel?”
His calm, poised confidence.
“What sounds does he make?”
He takes deep breaths like he’s trying to let go of the world resting on his shoulders, and his laugh is so carefree that it makes me smile inside.
She waits until my eyes find hers again. “You know all of those things already. You could be blindfolded in a room with ten men. You’d know exactly which one he is, and he’s never even touched you.”
She’s right.
“So, just let him touch me?” I ask again, a little less forcefully this time, but not wanting to accept this as a solution.
She takes a slow sip of her tea, giving me a minute to let it all settle. I need it to because just thinking about letting ColeMatthews have access to my skin makes me want to go ahead and light myself on fire.
“What’s the worst thing that could happen?” She tosses it out there, dangling the worst-case scenario crap in front of my face. She knows Cole is far from worst-case, and I despise that she’s this damn good at her job.
I glare at her and her wisdom.
“What if, at this party, he slides his arm around you to guide you, and his fingers wrap around the side of your stomach?”
I know exactly what could happen. “I could dislocate his shoulder in one swift movement.”
She smiles. “Well, that wouldn’t be good for his job or yours.” She laughs, easing my overwhelming urge to freak the hell out. “Want to know what I think?”
Nope. Definitely don’t.
I cross my arms over my chest, wanting to ignore her, but dammit, I can’t, and she knows it.
She grabs her mug again. “I think you already know enough about this man that you can tell him you’re not big on physical contact, and he’ll respect that.” She stares at me. “But you might find it’s not that bad.”
