When Emma woke, Marco’s arms were still around her, his leg draped over hers. The sun had dropped lower, creating lavender shadows in the room. The light from outside was more golden, as if filtered through silk. She stirred and Marco was immediately alert. He sat up and looked around, then relaxed.

“It will take a while to forget the habits of the cave,” he said. He rolled off her and bent his head to take her nipple between his teeth. He teased it with his tongue and she murmured, stretching her heavy limbs. He looked at her with his dark eyes, a flicker of laughter mingled with desire in their depths.

Bedroom eyes, they said in the magazines. His look told her he could make her come anywhere, anytime, and she couldn’t do a thing about it. He was absolutely right.

“Just looking at you makes me hard,” he said, “but I must remember my promise.”

He stood in a lithe movement and adjusted his clothing.

“You will have your bath,” he said. “But I have one wish.”

“What?” She didn’t care what his wish was. She would dance naked on the tabletop if he asked. And if her ankle would hold.

“I want to see you naked when I return.” He kissed her lips. “Will you do that?”

“That’s easy.” She pulled his head to her mouth again.

Marco tore himself away from her with a groan and opened the door. He called out something in the hallway and she heard a woman’s answering voice. She supposed there had to be servants in the house. Someone had prepared this lovely room. Marco’s footsteps faded and she began to remove her tunic and skirt.

She lay naked, drowsing against the soft bedding, waiting for her lover, watching the shadows lengthen and the outline of the furniture grow blurred. She let her hands drift over her body. She had never felt like this, as sensitive as a bare nerve, as sensuous as a cat. Her body had grown conditioned to respond to the slightest touch, to react to every lustful thought. At last she heard his footsteps outside. He came back into the room and her heartbeat notched up a fraction as it did every time she saw him.

He closed the door behind him and stood looking at her, taking in her nakedness. She wanted to stretch under the caress of his hot eyes, displaying her body for his approval. He nodded in satisfaction, moistened his lips and began to tug his shirt over his head. His eyes returned to her as he undid his trousers and let them fall, and she felt the familiar shiver start between her legs and creep to her belly, her breasts.

He took two strides to the bed and she rolled toward him, taking his cock gently in one hand. She touched her lips to it, delighting in the soft velvet of the skin, tracing the large, pulsing vein with the very tip of her tongue. It hardened and rose under her mouth and she smiled. She had power over him too. He groaned and pressed her head to his groin. “Oh, I want, I want,” he muttered. “But wait, bella donna. Wait a short while.”

He scooped her into his arms and settled her against his warm, naked chest. She rubbed her cheek against him, feeling the soft hair against her skin, and twined one arm around his neck. Her other hand traced around his nipple, making it peak. When he moved, his erection brushed against the cheeks of her ass. He carried her through a doorway.

The deep porcelain tub with high sides sat in the center of its own small room. A window was open to the gardens and the branch of a sweet-smelling bush nodded outside. Soft tendrils of steam rose lazily into the air from the surface of the water. Candles stood ready on the windowsill, and a fresh bottle of wine stood uncorked beside two sparkling glasses.

Marco held her, wreathed in scented steam, and let her dip a toe into the water. The temperature was perfect. She kissed along the line of his jaw and stroked her fingers down his cheek, the strong column of his neck and to the lovely hollow of his throat.

He lowered her gently, until her arms could steady her and she slid into the perfumed depths. He quickly stepped into the water behind her, settling her on his lap. She leaned back against him to let the water lap her breasts. His erection was hard and firm under her bottom, nudging at the cheeks of her ass. She remembered last night when she had teased him in the same spot. Her clit began to throb.

Marco took the bottle of wine and poured a measure into each glass. Reaching over her shoulder he put a goblet to her mouth. She sipped at the fragrant liquid, letting it slip down her throat like molten gold, sending little rivulets of warmth to her nipples, to her lips, to her clit. A soft torpor invaded her whole body and she lay back, her eyes half closed. A bird began to trill outside the window.

Three baths in as many days, all so different. She would never step into a tub again without remembering Enrico’s hovel, the threat from Giovanni, or the sheer delight of luxuriating with Marco.

When she had drunk some wine, Marco replaced the glass and took a large sponge from the side of the bath. Dipping it in the water, he lathered it with a creamy bar of soap and began to skim it over her shoulders. He lightly traced up the side of her neck, over the pulsing artery in her throat and down to her collarbone. At the same time the fingers of his other hand crept between her legs and slid over her clit, seeking and stroking. She tried to turn to face him, but he held her in a vise. When she gasped and threw her head back against his shoulder he removed his hand and seized her leg, lifting it out of the water to wash. He massaged her foot and she groaned. No matter where he put his hands, it increased her arousal. His stiff cock slid between her legs and she rubbed against him, letting it nudge the soft opening of her vagina. If he didn’t give her release, she knew she would scream out in longing and frustration.

He kissed her temple. “I love the way you are always so ready for me.”

“Oh God,” she said. “I can’t believe I’m begging for it again.”

“Begging is good. I like it.”

“I can tell.”

She reached between her legs and took hold of him. “Two can play that game.” She slid her hand up and down the shaft, teasing the tip with her thumb. He dropped the sponge, put his arms round her and grasped her breasts. He groaned and she felt his body tense against her back.

“Who’s begging now?” she whispered.

“Dio mio, bella donna.”

“I can’t see you. Tell me.”

“I shall explode if you don’t let me inside you.”

“I’ll take pity on you.” The truth was that she was barely containing her own explosion. Still with her back to him, she slowly raised her hips and guided his cock into her. Moving with a deliberate lack of haste despite the growing urge in her belly, she eased him inside her and settled between his thighs. His hands squeezed and molded her breasts, his chest shielded her back, his muscled legs supported her ass, his spike-hard cock was deep inside her.

Every inch of her where he caressed sparked with fire.

He moved one hand from her breast and began again to finger her clit. She squeezed her inner muscles in response and felt him swell even more. The delicious warmth began as a buzz between her legs, creeping over her belly, sinking inside her until she saw nothing, heard nothing, her whole being focused on where their bodies joined. At last she stiffened against him and let the wave carry her.

“Now,” she cried. “Oh God, now!”

No more than a heartbeat later, he let out a guttural roar and she felt the hot spurt of his semen against her womb, his thrusts prolonging and enhancing her own orgasm.

They lay together, barely breathing, recovering from the onslaught until the water began to cool. Marco kissed the nape of her neck, wrapped her in a large towel and carried her back to the bedroom. On a side table someone had placed cheese and grapes, bread and wine. The bed had been remade with fresh linen.