Free Enchantment & Bridge of Dreams by Christina Skye

everything. “Don’t worry—I’m simply protecting my investment,” he murmured, trying hard to believe it himself. Before she could protest, he pulled her between his thighs and drew her back against his chest. His fingers cupped her shoulders and dug smoothly at the knots of tension, splaying and contracting rhythmically. “You’re very expensive, Yank, in case you didn’t know it.”
    Kacey’s eyes closed, then jerked open sharply as she fought the power of those masterful fingers. “Oh, I do—know it. But…something tells me—ummm—you’re very good at…protecting your investments.”
    Draycott laughed huskily. Strong and certain, his hands played over her shoulders while pleasure lapped through her in drugging waves. “Tell me how it feels, Kacey.” His voice was a dark caress against the lobe of her ear.
    â€œGood,” she whispered, barely realizing she’d spoken. “ Too good.” Her eyelids fluttered down, and this time they did not reopen.
    Nicholas’s mouth curved up. Soon I’ll make it feel even better, he promised silently.
    His hands followed the slim line of her neck downward, picking out the exact inch of skin where a cluster of muscles screamed in agony. With practiced skill, he circled the tense center, gradually narrowing the circle. Long weeks in the hospital had taught him a great deal about physical suffering, after all. Now he knew all there was to know about pain and the thousandways of releasing it. In the weeks after Bhanlai, physical therapy had helped him survive and restored his sanity.
    â€œHow did you know? Who…” With a sigh, Kacey gave up trying to talk, her question forgotten midsentence.
    Draycott’s laugh was a dark, intimate thing. “You work too hard, Connecticut. It’s unhealthy, too much work, don’t you know that?”
    Kacey’s eye cracked open. “Who—who told you I was from Connecticut?” she muttered.
    Draycott’s fingers paused for a fraction of a second. “Your address was there in your letters of recommendation. I looked them over this morning.”
    â€œOh.” Kacey’s frown faded and her eyes closed once more. “And now I suppose you’re gong to tell me—ummm—that you’re the very person to teach me how to relax?”
    Draycott’s smile widened. “However did you guess?”
    She tried to scoff, to tense, to push him away. But she couldn’t, because his fingers were heaven itself. Dear God, her bones were turning to jelly, and Kacey realized she would do anything to ensure that he didn’t stop.
    For the span of a heartbeat, he hesitated.
    Her soft protest tumbled out before she knew it.
    Even before that, Draycott had felt the exact moment she stopped fighting him. The instant her mind let down its barriers, and her body surrendered to his pleasure.
    He knew, and the knowledge stabbed him with hot, primal, male triumph. First round to me, Kacey Mallory.
    Her head fell back, cradled against his forearm and chest. Her breath escaped in a sigh—soft and husky and endlessly female.
    Mine, Draycott thought. Every silken inch, every sweet sigh mine. And suddenly he felt a reckless need to make her sigh that way again. But this time with a woman’s pleasure.
    At that moment, a high-pitched hum swept the room, followedby a faint click. A second later, every bulb in the long gallery flickered and went out.
    The bloody power was out again, Draycott realized.
    He looked down at the woman in his arms, his eyes already adapted to the darkness. Her eyes were closed, Draycott saw, her head tilted back. Her hair spilled like a warm honey cloud over his chest and shoulders.
    Fire pooled heavy in his groin. He felt himself harden and swell with a passion he hadn’t known for months. But he didn’t move, wanting to savor the sweet, aching need.
    She hadn’t noticed the sudden