By the time the poultice was ready, Michel’s eyes had closed, and he was drifting into a light sleep. She placed the poultice across his wound, warning him that it would sting for a moment before cooling and creating a numbing sensation. He grimaced, and as he did, she leaned forward to kiss his lips before pulling back. When he closed his eyes for the evening, there was peace in his expression.
ChapterThirty-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 anoas 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.
