Italian Passion Read Online Free PDF

tongues duelling.
    Passion washed over her in a hot
tide, sweeping her with it. She clung to it, refusing to be left behind. His
mouth moved like fire over her body and when he entered her she gasped at the
sheer heat of it. He moved gently within her at first, until she began to arch
against him and call his name. Then, all restraint gone, he gave in to his
passion.
    Afterwards, Vanessa lay cradled in
his arms and cried – not from sadness, but happiness. She had never thought
love-making could be so beautiful; and it made it her realise what she had been
missing. Marco held her tightly against her, whispering endearments in Italian
into her hair, his arms clasped about her, as if he was afraid she might slip
away from him.
     
    ***
     
    The pale light of dawn filtered in
through the cracks in the shutters. Vanessa awoke gently and snuggled within
the circle of Marco’s arms. He had held her all night, and she had never felt
so protected.
    “ Buongiorno principessa ,”
Marco stirred and propped himself up on one elbow, staring sleepily down at
her. “Good morning, princess.”
    “Good morning yourself,” Vanessa
murmured, tracing his cheek with her finger. “You’re still here?”
    He chuckled at that. “Well, since
this is my house, that’s not surprising.”
    “I mean, you’re not a dream.”
    “No – I’m not,” he kissed her
tenderly. “And I’m relieved to see you aren’t either.”
    Marco sat up and stretched, and
Vanessa followed suit.
    “What’s the time?” She asked him,
stifling a yawn.
    “Still very early – 6.30am.”
    “I should take a shower.”
    “You can have one here if you want?”
    Vanessa shook her head. “I need to
change my clothes, I should really head back to the hotel.”
    Marco nodded before kneeling down so
that their gazes were level.
    “Do you want to have breakfast
together after you’ve showered and changed? I don’t have to work until after
lunch. I’d like to show you some more of Florence today, if you’re free.”
    Vanessa wrapped her arms around his
neck and kissed him languorously.  “Of course I’m free – I’d love to.”
     
    Dressed in yesterday’s blue shift
dress, with her new suede jacket on to ward of the morning’s chill, Vanessa
walked down the street towards her hotel. No doubt, reception would wonder
where she had been last night, but she did not care. She felt as if she were
walking a metre off the ground this morning. Her stomach curled with excitement
at the thought of seeing Marco again in just two hours. She had arranged to
meet him outside the hotel.
    In her hotel room, Vanessa had a hot
shower before dressing in a denim skirt and short-sleeved pink shirt. After she
had dried her hair, she left it loose around her shoulders. She was ready, and
still had an hour to spare before Marco arrived, so Vanessa sat down on the bed
and pulled her mobile phone out of her bag.
    She switched it on and found two text
messages waiting for her.
    Vanessa started to read. As she did
so, her euphoria slowly dissolved.
    Both texts were from Richard. The
first one read: Where are you? I’m going out of my mind with worry? Why
didn’t you fly back to the UK?
    Vanessa read the second text and felt
sick to her stomach.
    I’m so sorry Vanessa. I’ve
made a terrible mistake. I didn’t mean anything I said – I was stressed with
work but I should never have taken it out on you. Tara means nothing to me.
Please give me a call and I’ll make everything right, I promise. Love always,
Richard.
    She could not believe it – after
everything he had said, Richard was sorry. Had Tara rejected him? Whatever the
reason, Vanessa was not interested. His texts made her feel manipulated, used
and sick.
    All at once, she hated men – all of
them. Suddenly, she just wanted to go home and pretend Richard and Marco did
not exist. Sure, last night had been wonderful, magical even, but it could not
last. Men were like Richard; cruel one moment, and kind the next. She