Chapter Four: Let Me Take Care Of You

Micah’s POV

As soon as the words leave her lips, I take her hand and pull her inside.

The door clicks shut behind us, and I press her gently against the wall, heart pounding in my chest.

“Are you sure?” I whisper, my breath brushing her lips as my hands slide up to her throat, holding her there. Not hard, just enough to feel her pulse race beneath my fingers.

Her brown eyes are wide, pupils blown, and her lips part as she nods. “Yes… please.”

God. 

She’s trembling, chest rising fast, and for a moment I forget how to breathe.

Stephan doesn’t deserve her. He never did. The same way he doesn’t deserve anything good in his life.

Some selfish part of me feels triumphant knowing she’s no longer his. That she’s standing here, looking at me like I’m the only one she sees.

And then I kiss her — finally.

Her mouth is soft and warm against mine, and she melts into me like she’s been waiting for this too. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us.

My mind spins at the first taste of her. It's intoxicating, heady…and I’m ready to drop to my fucking knees for her.

Her moan vibrates against my tongue, and I lose it. My hands grip her waist, then slide down to her hips, to the curve of her ass. She fits perfectly in my palms.

Soft, pliant.

When I squeeze, she gasps, a sound that goes straight through me, settling in the deepest parts of me.

“You like that?” I murmur, my lips brushing the corner of her mouth.

She doesn’t answer. She just tilts her head, kissing down my jaw, her teeth grazing my skin before she sucks hard enough to leave a mark.

“Take it off,” she whispers, tugging on my shirt.

“My hands are busy,” I rasp, giving her another squeeze.

She huffs, grabs my shirt by the lapels, and rips it open, buttons scatter across the floor. I laugh against her lips, but the sound dies quickly when she kisses me again.

Her body is shaking. Mine’s not any better.

When I slide my hand up her thigh and press against her, she moans my name, soft and breathless.

“Micah…”

The sound of it almost undoes me.

I tug at her dress, slipping the buttons loose until the fabric falls open. She’s bare beneath the thin layer of her bra, and when I take one hardened peak into my mouth, she arches, whimpering like she’s about to break.

“God…” she breathes, clutching my hair.

I could stay like this, touching her, tasting her  forever. And I’d never get tired.

But then I whisper against her lips, voice rough and low, “I want your mouth.”

She blinks, confused. “You have my mouth.”

“No.” I kiss her again, slower this time. “I want your mouth…on me.”

The air changes. She freezes. Her body goes still in my arms.

And instantly, I know I’ve pushed too far.

I step back, hands raised. “You don’t have to. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Her gaze drops, cheeks flushed. “I shouldn’t have… done any of this,” she says softly. “I’m sorry.”

I shake my head. “Don’t be. I should’ve kept my promise.”

She exhales shakily and straightens her dress, trying not to look at me. “I should go.”

“Please,” I say, reaching out before she can turn away. “Let me at least cook for you. You need to eat.”

“It’s fine, really—”

“I promised you a bath and food,” I cut in gently. “That’s all. No more lines crossed.”

Her lips part, her eyes searching mine for a long moment. Then she finally nods.

“Okay,” she whispers.

Relief floods me. I smile a little and squeeze her hand. “Thank you.”

I lead her upstairs and run the bath, filling it with warm water and too many bath bombs until the scent fills the air. The bubbles nearly spill over the edge.

“There,” I say quietly. “Towels and essentials are in the basket. I’ll get some clothes for you. Once you’re done, we’ll eat. Then, we can talk, if you want to.”

Her eyes lift to mine, soft and uncertain. “Alright.”

I leave her there and step into my own shower, letting the water hit my back while my thoughts spiral.

Finally, she’s here. Not as Stephan’s wife,  but as herself. As the woman I’ve wanted for years.

And I swear, I’m not letting her slip away again.

---

When she comes downstairs, she’s wearing my sweatpants and hoodie. A towel’s still wrapped around her hair, and there’s a shy smile playing on her lips.

She looks small and warm and so damn beautiful.

“Hi,” I breathe out.

“Hi,” she replies, glancing at the table.

Her eyes widen at the sight.  Lobster, potatoes, bread, and sauce. “This looks amazing, Micah.”

“Thank you.” I gesture toward the chair.

She sits, and I serve her, watching her eyes soften with every bite.

The way she eats, slow, savoring, with tiny sighs of pleasure, makes something inside me ache. I’ve seen her starve herself for that bastard of a man, seen her break her back trying to please him.

But here, now, she looks… content.

And I can’t help the burst of pride that settles in my chest for being the reason.

There’s a bit of sauce at the corner of her lips, and before I can stop myself, I lean forward and wipe it away with a napkin.

She blushes. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I murmur, unable to look away from her.

Something shifts between us again quiet, fragile, but real.

And before I can think twice, the words slip out.

“Marry me, Eva.”

She freezes, spoon halfway to her mouth. “What?”

I swallow hard and meet her gaze. “Marry me,” I repeat, voice low but certain. “Let me take care of you.”