“If we can have entire conversations telepathically, then why are we speaking out loud at all?” she asked. “In fact, what’s to keep us from getting to know everything about each other by just mind-melding or something?”
He smiled. “Sure, we can know each other’s thoughts at any given moment when we’re connecting in that way. But I would never directly enter your mind and investigate all that was there, at least not without permission or a sense you were inviting me in.”
Her shoulders relaxed a fraction. She must have been feeling more vulnerable about that than she’d realized. “I appreciate that.”
“And if you want, I can teach you to block your thoughts from me when you want a little more privacy.” He winked.
“That would probably be a good idea,” she said, remembering his amazing kiss earlier in his office, and that he’d sensed just how freaking turned on she’d been.
She wiggled again in her seat now at the memory of his full lips on hers.
If he heard her current thoughts, he ignored them, and continued. “When you want your privacy, imagine building a brick wall in your mind. Visualize it sitting right behind your forehead. If you decide you want the wall back down, picture it crumbling. Et voilà.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s straight out of New Age Hokey Pokey 101.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know what New Age Hokey Pokey 101 is, but I’m telling you, it’s as simple as that.”
She giggled at the thought.
“And yes,” he added, “I suppose we could have our whole conversation telepathically if you wanted, but you know from experience it can be more taxing than speaking out loud.”
“And I wouldn’t want you to be taxed, old man,” she said to him telepathically, raising a mischievous eyebrow.
His eyes rounded in surprise and he coughed. But then he pushed his books aside, sat up straight, and looked her dead in the eye with a smirk, as if preparing for battle.
“Hey, don’t worry about me, young lady. I can go all night if you want,” he responded, also without speaking aloud.
“And I have a pretty good idea of what you might have in mind in that regard,” she said silently. “You must not be blocking your thoughts at the moment because I sense the response to this conversation in your, um, lower body.”
“Really?” he continued in her mind. “Can you sense this?”
He lifted his right index and middle fingers ever so slightly off the table, moving them in a subtle circular motion. Lexi jumped in her seat. She felt him touching her. It was the unmistakable feeling of two fingers slowly sliding along her ankle, tracing the curve of her calf to settle in the soft spot behind her knee.
“Gideon!” This she said out loud, a little too loudly, causing a couple heads to turn. He shushed her, and winked.
The fingers kept moving up along the side of her thigh, dipping beneath the hem of her dress. She actually tried to brush his hand off, but there was nothing really there for her to push aside.
“Gideon.” She whispered this time.
“Tell me to stop and I will,” he said telepathically, “but if you just keep saying my name like that, I’m only going to take it as encouragement.”
He moved the sensation across the front of her leg and along her inner thigh, caressing the sensitive skin. Using the two “fingers,” he pushed at her thigh, encouraging her to open her legs a bit, and without thinking, she did. He ran the sensation slowly up and down, from the inner side of her knee to the very top of her thigh, just a fingertip’s space away from her panties, teasing her. Reflexively, she tilted her hips forward on the seat a bit, giving him more access, but he refused to play along, dipping back down to the knee instead.
Her breath came faster, but she remained silent, biting her lower lip. This had turned into a battle of wills—and someone was going to chicken out first. She decided it was not going to be her. She was determined to come out on top.
“Come out on top, huh? Interesting choice of words,” he said silently.
“Get out of my head, Hero.”
“Why? I don’t see any wall, Heroine,” he said in her mind, all the while casually twirling his glasses between the fingers of his other hand.
The sensation of his touch finally, blessedly, reached her panties, exploring the thin silk barrier between her legs. She squeaked, her mouth parted, having forgotten about everyone in the room now except him. She licked her lips.
“I can see why you haven’t told me to stop. You’re deliciously wet,” he said in her mind, his grey-green eyes drilling into hers.
Her eyes widened. “You can feel that?”
“Yes.”