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.
ChapterThirty-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 wasvoracious. He did all he could to keep up with her and give her what she needed.Dieu merci—thankGod—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, withlesstrade 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?”
