Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Thus began the happiest time in Eve’s life.
Her day was filled with nothing but Michel.
Household chores, trips to the marketplace, Michel.
The flooding pull of want he had awakened inside of her.
Eve hardly knew what had happened to her.
She was completely overcome by desire for this man.
When he was near, when she had his scent in her nose, it changed how she acted.
It turned her into a crazy person, and the only antidote was to have more and more and more of him.
She knew him so much better now. This strong, tall, steadfast man who would fight for her, who would attend to whatever she needed, was completely dependent on her.
She loved it. She loved the way she controlled him, but he, at the same time, completely overpowered her.
It seemed that all along she had been looking for a place that her adult self could call home, and in Michel she found exactly where she belonged.
Meanwhile, Michel grew stronger, a relief to the both of them.
At first, their lovemaking was all he could manage, and once they were finished, he would be spent, asleep for hours, until he woke up and wanted her again.
It delighted Eve. Never had she indulged in such pleasure of the body before, and Michel did things to her she never knew could feel so wonderful.
Every touch and caress from him was a new story he wrote into her skin, and she quivered just thinking about how he touched her.
They began taking trips together to the market.
They cloaked themselves and did not stay out long.
Back home, they would eat together. Chat.
Play cards. She made him drink stinky teas that he hated.
She borrowed books from their landlord and read aloud on treatises of war, history, and bawdy stories of bards and maids.
It didn’t matter what she read, or what she cooked, or mended, or anything else that she did.
She would always end up in his arms, her body begging him to touch her.
It was three weeks that they were caught in this happy routine that Eve never wanted to end.
As long as she didn’t think of the chaos littered behind them, everything was perfect in their little home, their lives complete.
What a gift to be given these days—the thought lived inside her.
That is, until one day, she noticed the twinges in her lower stomach.
At first, she thought it was signaling that she would need her female supplies.
When that day didn’t come, she realized that she had not had one full cycle since she and Michel had been together in that way.
As the gentle tugs and pulls in her belly continued, she began to understand what had happened.
She was not stupid. She had known it was a possibility, but she didn’t know it would happen quite so fast. She certainly didn’t think it would happen before she knew what was happening next.
However it came about, it seemed as though Michel’s mark on her would be permanent.
Michel felt strong again. He could move. He could lift. He could work. He’d been exercising in the small courtyard outside their room, training with his sword once more. He felt his muscles regaining their strength. Soon, he would be ready to travel.
He’d also been exercising with Eve. His body came alive, he knew, because he wanted her.
Only her. It felt like his flesh and muscles couldn’t wait to heal, just so he didn’t miss a moment with her.
And she was voracious. He did all he could to keep up with her and give her what she needed.
Dieu merci—thank God—he had started regaining his strength because he felt he could be consumed completely by her at any moment, worn down to bones.
He could certainly think of worse things.
That afternoon, he worked with the landlord and his son-in-law, building a porch in the courtyard. They had been working since morning. Michel took it slow, careful not to pull on his wound. He liked both men—the landlord, kind-hearted and smart, and his son-in-law, a friendly sort.
Michel pounded a nail and looked up to see Eve, standing at the window, her worried eyes on him. He grinned, feeling warmth grow inside him that rivaled the heat from the sun. He had never felt so coddled and cared for in his life. He had never known this happiness before.
He slammed a nail home and then gave her a wink.
He cared about nothing else—not his title, not his kingdom, not his reputation.
Eve held his only objective: to get her home, to get her safe.
He would have to return to Chevalerie with no trade, with less trade in fact.
He would have to face up to his family—he, who had always spouted that he knew his purpose and wouldn’t be swayed by some beauty. But now. Wow. He had never expected it.
It was time to make things official.
Many hours later, Michel felt himself waking up cozy in bed.
He had been to the baths, had dinner with Eve and the landlord’s family, and then he must have fallen right asleep, his muscles heavy with exhaustion from the day of work.
In his sleepy daze, he turned to reach for Eve, but she was not in bed.
Suddenly, he startled awake, hearing what sounded like her tears coming from across the room.
“Eve,” he whispered. He leapt out of bed. She was leaning on the table with her back to him, her head dropped. He came to her and wrapped his arms around her body, pressing his chest to her back. “What’s wrong? Are you crying?”
“No,” she whimpered.
“Yes, you are.” He held her and nuzzled his lips into her hair. “What’s happened?”
“Michel.” She did not turn but continued to speak to him. “Are you sincere when you say you will take me to France? Do you still have any designs to get rid of me?”
Michel laughed. “How can you ask me that?”
“Or is it sex?” she asked. “Am I here because you like to have sex with me?”
At the mention, his body became immediately ready. “Sex with you clouds my brain,” he murmured, his hands already roaming. He loved the way the night shift slid over her skin as he touched her.
Eve groaned as she pressed back into him. “Is this all you want?” she asked, now breathless.
Suddenly, Michel understood that Eve wasn’t so much worried about his plans but more worried about his feelings. He grinned. She must have noticed the change in his demeanor because now she turned to look at him with anger in her expression. “Why do you smile? Do you think I am joking?”
He held himself around her. “Do you not know my feelings for you by now?”
“You have never told me much about your feelings.” She turned away again with a huff. But her body stayed soft in his arms.
He moved his hands and pulled at the fabric of her shift, bringing it over her head, leaving just her drawers to cover her lower half.
“How could you not know?” he said softly, his hands running across her bare breasts and back down over her body.
“You know basically everything else about me.” He tangled his fingers in her undergarment.
“Listen to me now,” he insisted, “and I will try to tell you how I feel about you.” He kissed a trail down her spine and then reached to tilt her chin toward the window. “Do you see the stars outside?”
“Yes,” she whispered, her breath catching as she as he began to move against her. She directed her gaze toward the stars.
“I’m jealous of the stars, Eve,” he said. “I’m jealous they get to watch you while I’m asleep.” He pressed himself against her bottom and kissed the back of her neck. His hand came up her front, and he took her breast against his palm. He heard a breath escape her lips.
“What else?” she asked.
He smiled, enjoying her reactions. “Do you feel the warmth from the fire?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I’m jealous that it can touch your skin even when you are across the room,” he rasped, against her ear.
“More things,” she said. “Tell me more.”
“Hmmm,” he said, thinking, pressing himself into her, dizzy with her.
“I’m jealous of every smile you’ve given to anyone else.
Every laugh you’ve ever had that wasn’t my doing.
” He leaned back, suddenly frenzied, his hands gripping at her undergarment.
“That this fabric is touching you where I want to be touching you,” he growled.
He couldn’t get it off fast enough. “Help me get this off.”
“Yes.” She pushed them down and leaned back into him, groaning as she did.
There it was, the absolute panic to take her, to get inside of her.
He ran his hands up her legs, over her ass, across her torso, her breasts, her hair, and her throat.
He wanted to touch her everywhere, all at once.
He lifted one of her legs, resting her knee up on the table, spreading her open. He had to have her.
Eve, up on her toes, caught herself. She gasped his name and reached back for him.
Michel held her while he situated himself, and in a moment, he penetrated deep into her.
He clenched his jaw at the pleasure of it, the heat inside her body, the connection between them, the tension holding them together.
It was an out-of-control torrent that took him over like an avalanche each time he was close to her.
He thrust inside, feeling her wetness coat him, and he did it again.
He knew her body well enough by now to know if he held himself inside her too long, she would orgasm immediately.
Sometimes he would let her. Sometimes he wouldn’t.
Now he wouldn’t, he thought, fingers digging into her hips.
He wanted to control her body and her pleasure. He wanted to make her say she was his.
Eve cried out as he set an aggressive pace, causing the table to drag loudly as he drove into her.
Michel held her, one hand digging into her hip to hold her in place, and the other wrapped around her torso to keep her skin against his.
He kissed the back of her neck and buried his face in her hair.
Even inside her, he never, never, could get enough.
Eve hadn’t been crying because she worried about his desire, Michel knew.
He had wanted to ask her this when he had risen to the honor of his position, when he had gotten her home to Chevalerie and safe, when he had a chance to fix everything that had fallen apart.
Not when he was recovering and deserted, having bungled every deal he had attempted.
He felt the words. He couldn’t hold them back any longer.
His strain for her wouldn’t let him. He stood tall and held her hips, changing his angle and quickening his pace, a sudden rush of emotion causing his head to swim.
“Marry me, Siren.” He said it as a command, but he’d plead if he had to.
He felt the surprise stiffen her body. He thrust roughly, nearly lifting her off the floor, turning her into liquid once more. He leaned forward, running his hand over her hip and down between her legs, his fingers parting her skin as he stroked her there. He spoke in her ear, “Say yes.”
Eve whimpered and stuttered a moment. She struggled to steady herself, even though he held her solidly. She arched into him, her head back, gasping his name.
“Say yes,” he repeated. He used firm pressure with his fingers between her legs while he beat into her from the back.
“Yes,” she gasped, her hands gripping the edges of the table.
He grinned and bit her neck, lowering his voice to a tease. “Yes, you’ll marry me, or yes, you want to come?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you.” She choked out a laugh. “Yes, to both.”
The tension snapped like a rubber band inside him.
He leaned forward, pushing her down against the table.
He ground down on her clitoris and slammed into her until her body stiffened on a scream, causing his own body to implode as he, once again, lost himself inside her.
He couldn’t help it, but surely, one more time wouldn’t matter.
Eve slumped across the table, and Michel collapsed over her. He felt his breathing align with hers as their hearts slowed together. He kissed her neck and down her spine. He had never felt so happy.
When she spoke, he realized that with her, his happiness had no limit.
“I love you, Michel,” she gasped. “I love you.”