Borgia Fever Read Online Free PDF

grudgingly. Bella fetched
water and a cloth from the adjoining room and he rolled up his sleeve, to reveal
a jagged cut along his forearm that disappeared under the cloth of his tunic.
Bella swallowed.
    â€˜I’ll need you to remove your top,’ she muttered, feeling
herself flush and unable to meet his eyes. He hesitated only a moment before
slipping off his tunic and undershirt, to reveal his tanned and taut body, like
an artist uncovering his finest sculpture. Bella could not tear her eyes away;
he was beautiful, yet in a wholly masculine way. As she cleaned his wound, her
breath thick in her throat, the light of the candle lamp highlighted an
intricate pattern of fine scars across his torso. Barely realising what she was
doing, she traced them with her fingertips, an unspoken question in her
eyes.
    â€˜The French war in Naples,’ he answered simply, and though his
voice betrayed no emotion, she saw the brief flash of pain in his eyes. A surge
of compassion for whatever he had been through welled up in her, along with her
fierce desire for him, and she knew in that moment without doubt that whatever
or whoever he was, this was a man she could love. Her hands shook as she
finished cleaning the wound, and tore a strip of cloth to wind around it.
    Marco looked down at her, felt the tenderness of her touch and
wondered at this woman who seemed able to reach a part of him he had thought
forever buried. The way she had touched his scars had both stirred up memories
he had fought hard to forget, and yet made him want to share them with her. To
share himself with her. She looked up, those beautiful golden-brown eyes meeting
his, and he reached for her. Then she was in his arms, her sweet-smelling hair
falling around him, her lips as hungry as his.
    * * *
    He stood and backed her towards the bed, one hand at her
waist and the other cupping her buttocks, the strength in his arms and the force
of his kiss nearly lifting her off her feet.
    He laid her down and Bella followed his lead, soft and willing
in his arms, giving herself over to the urgency of the heat between them.
Raising himself above her, he pulled her dress down over her shoulders, exposing
more of her breasts, and began to kiss and nibble along her collarbone and the
soft swells below, pushing her gown away until her nipples sprang free and he
caught one in his warm mouth, causing her to gasp out loud. He sucked until she
was writhing under him and clutching at his shoulders. Lifting herself on her
elbows, she again traced the lines of his scars, then lowered her mouth to them,
her lips leaving burning trails as if she could melt them and the painful
memories away simply with her touch. She was eager in spite of her relative
inexperience, wanting to savour him, to have all of him.
    Her kisses moved lower, until her lips met the top of his
breeches and she reached for the laces. But he took her hand and gently
manoeuvred her back onto the bed.
    â€˜Let me pleasure you first,’ he said, his eyes glinting in the
half-light as he pushed up her skirts. ‘This colour suits you,’ he murmured,
admiring the rich red against the chestnut fall of her hair and creamy skin. ‘It
takes a beautiful woman to wear red.’
    Before she could reply he silenced her with another kiss, his
tongue insistently teasing hers as if they were making love with their mouths
alone. Bella felt her secret places swelling and melting, longing for his touch,
for the feel of him, and she pushed her hips up to urge him on. This abandon was
nothing like her initial fumblings with her betrothed. Never had she realised
she could feel such pure physical need.
    Marco peeled her dress and bodice from her as if peeling a
fruit, exposing her succulent flesh as a feast for his eyes, untying her chemise
where it knotted under her breasts, and allowing them to fall free into his
hands. He lifted them together and bent his head to flick his tongue over both
nipples at once, such a