A part of her wanted to laugh aloud. With a firm grip, she fought to stay centered along him and at the same time she didn’t want to hurt him by squeezing too hard. You can’t hurt me. The reassurance purred through her mind as startling and clear as when he spoke to her the first time. She’d heard him, when he’d sent to her. Not only that, but his mental voice hadn’t stabbed at her brain. The experience was one she could barely define. Her telepathy never previously made mind-to-mind speech comfortable, much less pleasant. In far less time than it had taken her to hike down, they were back at his house. The sun began to dip along the mountains, casting the meadow and the house in a gorgeous, red-gold glow. It was stunning. John slowed his pace to a walk, the sinuous bunch and stretch of his muscles beneath her almost rocking her. Sitting up slowly, she drank in the view. Though it was chillier than when she’d set out earlier, John’s heat soaked through her clothing and chased away the cold.
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