Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Over the next few days, Eve fell into a pattern.
The modest room became a home in which she cared for Michel and played his nursemaid.
Each morning, she would rise, check Michel’s wounds, and make their tea and breakfast. She had become friends with the daughter of the landlord.
They would go to the market together, where Eve would choose foods for the day and select the herbs, spices, and roots needed to help Michel recover.
Then she would return, busy herself with tending, mending, cooking, and cleaning.
She could not believe how fulfilling it all felt, this way of showing Michel her gratitude and affection.
Michel slept for much of the first few days, the fever slowly dissipating.
He began staying awake for longer stretches.
She liked very much when he was awake. He made her laugh.
He made her ache, too. He asked her questions, wanted to know about her life, her family, everything.
It still hurt to talk about the loved ones she left behind, the events that led her from the comfort of her family’s herds to the safety of Michel’s arms. She carefully skirted around information about who exactly her father was.
She just enjoyed this moment too much to bring in any more conflict.
Then on the fourth day, when she returned from the market with her sack of vegetables and grains, she saw something very surprising.
Michel was on the floor doing pushups.
She almost dropped her turnips.
It thrilled her to see him getting stronger. It also thrilled her to see the muscles flexing in his back. A shudder ran up her spine along with a tingle down her thighs.
“Michel,” she gasped. She slid to her knees next to him. “Are you hurting?” She could see the sweat shimmering on his skin.
He did three more quick lifts and turned to his side. “I feel great.” He grinned at her. He still had the bandage on him, but the scab had formed well and did not bleed.
“Don’t do too much,” she said, her brow furrowed.
“I won’t.” He jumped up onto his feet. He looked at her and stumbled back, having overexerted himself.
“Ok, careful, love,” she said. She caught him under the shoulder and helped him back to the bed. “It will take you a while to regain your strength.”
“I like it when you call me that,” he said, grinning like a wolf. “I have some strength left.”
Sitting beside him, she breathed in his scent and looked at him.
The nearness controlled her thoughts and her body.
Of all the things they had talked about, they hadn’t spoken of what had happened between them.
Eve feared her body could not hold back once they spoke of those moments.
They had been sharing a bed, too, but Michel’s healing sleep had been deep, and though he would reach for her in the night, she stayed still enough not to wake and arouse him.
He pulled her to him, turning their bodies so they were face to face. She felt the firmness of his chest against her, his muscles unyielding. It caused her breasts to tingle and her breath to come more quickly.
His hands worked into the fabric of her dress to grip her and touch her skin. “Eve,” he whispered, looking up at her. “That was your first time,” he murmured. “I’m sorry that I was not at my best.”
“You were perfect,” she whispered, running her hand through his hair. “Everything was perfect. The way you touched me.” She ran her hands across his chest, his hands still working up her legs. “The way you took me.”
“What was your favorite part?” he asked, his hands encircling her thighs, reaching into her undergarments.
“How it hurt and then immediately felt good. When you put me on my back.” She shifted to kiss him while opening her legs to get more of his touch. “The sounds you made when you climaxed. Everything.”
Michel groaned. He pulled at her undergarment now. “Are you going to make me fight another man before I have you again?”
She laughed a no as her body urged for contact between her legs.
Michel came up on his knees and then moved above her. She felt his power and his presence grow until it filled the room, and there was only him. “Take your dress off,” he instructed.
A jolt went through her at his command. She came up on her knees, too, as she reached to unlace the dress. In seconds, she was pulling it off with Michel's help.
His hands on her body caused her to feel weak. Michel held her steady as he pulled off the rest of her undergarments. Then his lips were on her neck and his hand between her thighs. She moved to feel the pressure of his fingers
“Michel,” she said, unsure how she could make words. “You must go slow. For your own sake.”
“I’ll try,” he murmured as he pressed a finger against her, causing Eve’s hips to jerk, seeking him. “But you make it too difficult to go slow. You haven’t even given me a chance to seduce you.” He placed kisses along her jaw, teasing. “Because you’ve been the one seducing me this whole time.”
It was this, he thought, this desire for Eve that had kept him alive.
He wanted so much from her. He wanted to protect her, to help her, to save her.
He wanted terrible things too—to make her gasp for air, to make her beg, to own her.
He raged inside because, despite all the ways he wanted to contain her, he knew he couldn’t outwit or manipulate her. He had lost himself to her.
He grinned, looking down into her green eyes, mottled like a storm. Here, he thought he could be in charge this way.
He reached into her hair and held her firmly with his free hand while his other one worked into her.
He was shirtless, in nothing more than his breeches, allowing him to feel the heavy press of her breasts against his skin.
He held her, wanting to watch her pleasure as he continued using his fingers on her, hearing her sounds, letting her soak his hand.
When he felt her body starting to reach, to clench around him, he pulled back. “Not yet,” he murmured. “Together.”
Eve groaned and threw her arms around him, pulling him into a kiss.
Michel wanted to go slow, to tease her and keep her on edge all morning, but he felt his own desire spiraling. He took her and turned her to lie across the bed. He pulled his breeches off. Still on his knees, he opened her up, bending her knees and spreading her apart.
His eyes felt so full, he didn’t know where to look. Her face—lips parted in desire, eyes storming—the fullness of her body, or her wet heat, deep pink and slick, waiting for him.
“You are made to be worshiped,” he said, taking himself in his hand.
He stroked his shaft once to spread his own eager wetness across.
Then he balanced himself over her. Eve writhed, pulling at his arms. He breathed in, filling his lungs with her scent—currants and citrus—thick and raw with her desire.
“I don’t deserve to touch you, Eve,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I will stop.”
“Don’t stop,” she said, pulling him down for a kiss.
He took her lips and her tongue against his own, and he felt the desire fighting its hold inside him. Still gripping himself, he used the head of his cock to tease her outsides, letting their liquid desire combine.
“Michel,” she demanded. “Hurry, now, don’t make me wait.”
Her words, her body…how could he make her wait? Somewhere, pain tugged at his side. Somewhere else, caution told him to go slow. With Eve writhing below him, though, he couldn’t stop anything that was happening.
He pulled her legs open, and in one sharp thrust, they were joined.
He wanted to take a breath and assess her—if she felt ready, if it was too much—but Eve was a force below him, already locked on, pulling at him and jutting her hips to his. Michel could do nothing more than give in to her. He met her hips with his own as he moved inside her, slow and deep.
He struggled between wanting to allow the build, to let his affection reach out toward her, and wanting to exploit her body roughly, hurtling them both toward release.
But his Siren wanted more, everything, all at once.
When he pulled away to look at her, she jerked him back down.
When he leaned in to nibble at her collarbone, she ripped at his hair and choked out his name.
She pulled and scratched at him, her body begging, and so he drove into her, Eve having made the decision for him.
He felt her body teetering on completion.
So was his, he realized, in absolute wonder.
There had never been such a connection for him or a fury inside him.
He rode her, giving her everything he could.
He felt her body tightening even more for him, and he had no time to stall, to extend the experience.
Somewhere in his brain, he knew the moment was coming that he had to pull away from her body, to let his release happen outside of her, but with Eve wrapped tightly around him, he could hardly bear it.
“Eve,” he whispered, a weak plea. He wanted her to climax, and then he would spill outside of her, like he had done before, as he had always with every woman he’d been with.
He felt the tightness, the pleasure of his orgasm gathering.
He tried to pull away. Eve shrieked and held onto him tightly.
She moved her hips against him, and he felt her body stiffening on a moan.
He couldn’t handle it. Suddenly, his face was in her hair, and he was nearly lifting her from the mattress, burying himself as deep as her body would let him.
His own moan came full and primal, and he had no other thought in his head than this beautiful connection to this beautiful woman as he spent himself completely inside her.
Gasping for breath, he looked down at her.
Eve’s eyes sparkled back at him, and she had her own look of shock on her face.
She smiled, reaching toward his lips, devouring him with kisses.
Michel took each one, smiling as he did, whispering her name, praising the heavens for letting him keep her safe, all as he continued moving inside her, drawing out each of their sensations until the last moment.