Enjoy.🌬☕
~

Hot, steamy wafts of coffee curled up my nostrils. A sweet pleasure that seemed to steam away my sleepy eyes. I truly despised Mondays-especially EARLY Mondays. I sat leisurely at an ornate table, gazing pensively out of the windows that reflected the cobblestone pathways. De'marè Coffee House was one of my favorite spots in Venice. It was a beautiful place-with beautiful people, and a wonderful distraction from the many burdensome thoughts weighing on my mind. As a matter of fact, I am supposed to be meeting a client like, right now. But I suppose a few more minutes spent enjoying caffiene wont hurt. For five years, I've been a photographer. It was sometimes a tedious job but I loved it. There's something about capturing the world and its magnificent species that intrigued me.

While talking a slow, savory sip of my coffee, my gaze came to rest upon devastatingly dark obsidian orbs. Black, catty eyes, that were narrowed at me. Watching me. A man, sitting down with his legs crossed, the position showcasing his bulging, thick, godly-like thighs-and something else- that was tailored by black pants. I could sense an aura of cockiness and awareness about him. Chiseled jawline, rough stubble and equally as dark black hair, which complimented his eyes. His skin was a smooth buttery vanilla, with a slight tan. I was never one to stare-let alone do it for such a long period of time. I just couldn't bring myself to look away, an HE didn't even do so much as blink...or move. His gaze was a powerful, practiced one-designed to lure even the most stubborn of women. My god-what a beautiful man. He probably knows that. He probably --

Ring ring! My phone buzzed wildly-startling me and causing me to spill my coffee all over the table. Damn! Why did I have such a loud and obnocoious ring tone? I heard a laugh and looked up-seeing that it came from him. That laugh-so masculine, so sexy and horribly wicked. It almost sounded like a deep rumble in his chest. He clearly found my shyness and clumsiness quite amusing. Like hell! As if my constant oogling was not embarrasing as it is. I had enough. Finally managing to tear my gaze away from him, I got up. I realized it made no sense to linger for much longer. With a sigh, I cleaned up the remnance of my coffee, paid the barista a tip and headed for the exit. As I walked, I quickly pulled out my phone contact my client, who was the one who had made that earth shattering call. Before I could reach the door, a firm masculine hand grabbed the handle. It was him. He stood there; his pertrifing gaze searing through me. He confidently stood immobile right in front of the door-an amused smirk curling his lips and gave a slight hint of the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

He was so tall-and completely towered over my petite frame. His gaze met mine, and in an instant- I was shattered. His eyes were even more striking up close; and were as black as coffee. No sugar, no cream. Just raw richness. Almost as black as the turtleneck he was wearing. He looked at be intensively, with a glare. Anger? Annoyance? I could not figure out why he looked a me so intensively...so strongly. His hands purposely blocked the doorway and conveniently, the coffee house was empty so he was free to hold me up for however long he desired. I tried to speak up...but my throat closed up at the sight of such beautiful man. I was already a very demure woman-and him being so close didn't help. My growing impatience finally gave me the strength to squeeze out a few words.

"S-Sir, will you please excuse me?"

"Why? What's the rush beautiful?" he murmured in a husky voice.

Italian. He was Italian. It was hard to miss that accent. And my goodness...his voice alone sounded like sex. I wonder would it would be like to hear him moan...

Focus!!! I told myself. "Well...its just that I have to get to work-immediately. I'm late." I finally replied.

"Hmm. I see." His eyes did a quick sweep over my body. He was clearly distracted. I used it as an opportunity to try and slide past him, but to no avail. He was a sharp one.

"Give me your number," he said, with a cold, dark, and seductive gaze. He bit his lips.

"Wha-what?"

"Give me your number. Then you may go." He repeated. This time it almost sounded like a growl.

"Okay." I stammered. How could I say no? I wanted to...I didn't know him. But the magnetic pull of attraction was impossible to resist. It's amazing that he could successfully command me to do something without even saying please, or having common decency. I got a pen and paper, and hurriedly wrote my name and number. I handed it to him, and for a moment our fingers brushed. A spark of electricity follwed-a sneak peak as to what would come in the future. He looked at the paper and smirked.

"Eleanor..huh?"

"Yes...that's me. What's your name?" I tried to sound sexy and confident but only God knows if that worked or not.

He held the door open for me. "Adam." He replied. "Now I'll see you off, Bellissima-you're already late aren't you?" he smiled arrogantly; wickedly.

I thanked him and stepped out. The warm sun was a relief after being studied and cross-examined by such cold, dark eyes. And what did he call me...Bellissima??? I remembered that was the Italian word for beautiful. My cheeks instantly became hot. I walked out of there, fast-and did not look back. The strangest bit was that I could still feel his gaze. The excitement...the arousal...I hate to say it...but I couldn't wait for our next encounter.


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