Chapter 4
David unlocked his apartment door and held it open for Zita to enter. Flicking on the light, he pulled Zita toward him and brushed her hair behind her ear. “I’ve had a nice evening so far.”
Her smile seemed a little mischievious. “Me too.”
Lowering his head, he brushed his lips against hers, gauging her reaction. She murmured her approval and he drew her closer, needing more of her. He deepened the kiss, tasting her, and she slid her tongue over his lips. He grew hard. She was so hot.
Zita broke the kiss and put a hand on his chest. “How about that coffee?”
It took a second for her words to register. She wanted coffee?
She moved down the hallway to the kitchen and sat at his breakfast bar. David took a second to regroup. This wasn’t how things normally went, but he could run with it. “How do you take it?”
“Cream, two sugars please.” Her smile was sinful.
Perhaps she didn’t like to rush.
He switched on the coffee machine. Should he put some music on as well? No, that would be too cheesy. As he poured milk into his milk frother, his hand trembled. Women didn’t normally get him this worked up, but Zita was addictive. One kiss from her left him aroused in a way he’d not experienced before.
She was different.
He was selective about the women he brought home. He made sure they understood he wasn’t after a relationship. But it was more with Zita. She wasn’t just sexy, she was also interesting to talk with. He’d had a meaningful conversation with her each time they spoke.
He handed Zita her coffee.
“Thanks.” She spun on her stool so she was facing the living room. “That’s a great photo.” She pointed to the canvas on his wall. “It looks like the bayou.”
He wandered around and sat next to her. “It is. I took it a couple of years ago.”
She turned to him. “Really? It’s fantastic.”
“Thanks.” He was particularly proud of it.
“Do you like photography?”
He liked the admiration on her face and wished he could say he was good at something, but the truth was he wasn’t. Why was Zita’s opinion of him suddenly so important? “It was a lucky shot,” he admitted. “I took it on my phone.” He sipped his coffee.
“The photos I take on my phone always look like they’ve been taken by a two year old; I’ve got my finger in the picture, or it’s off-center or wonky.”
He laughed. “As I said, it was luck.”
She grinned and placed her mug on the bench behind her. She picked up a book, and too late he realized it was the latest fantasy he was reading. His coolness factor was plummeting by the second.
“You read fantasy?” she asked, turning the book over to read the back.
“Sometimes.” He shrugged.
“I love it. It’s my favorite genre.” Zita put the book back down.
“Really?” The last woman who’d discovered he liked fantasy had called him a nerd.
“Absolutely. I love the magic, dragons and epic quests.”
“Favorite author?”
“Ugh, too hard to decide. What about you?”
“Tolkien has to be up there,” David said.
