Page 121 of Mila: The Godfather

There’s a long pause where I swear I can hear both of our hearts beating loudly. Impossible, I know. Not logical at all.

Not being able to stand how quiet he is, I shift my face and peer up at him. I’m sure the nerves are evident in my eyes. “Is there something wrong?” I ask quietly.

“You take my breath away.” He breathes out. His voice is husky and sensual.

Dark and tempting.

Just like him.

Then, without notice he pulls my dress down slowly. With my back to him, I am topless and only wearing very skimpy white lace underwear.

I’m almost fully naked in front of him, and not for the first time.

My heart is racing now, and my breath quickens.

I feel the urge to tap my chest, but I fight it when I feel his heat at my back and his eyes on me.

“I’m going to touch you.” He reaches up and cups my head. I hold my breath. How sweet and how rare that he remembers how I freak out when someone touches my head.

That’s the kind of thing he does that makes my stomach flip and my chest feel full.

The little things.

Turning, with my breasts on display, I regard his handsome face for a moment too long. Intimate. Vulnerable. Yet I don’t cower, nor do I feel the need to hide like before.

Then, he leans down and presses a simple kiss to my mouth. I stay still. He runs his thumb over my cheekbone and then repeated the motion. I soften against him.

Then, his body heat disappears, and I watch him turn and walk toward the drawer. He opens it and grabs a pair of sweatpants and a white shirt.

Taking my hand, he leads me to the bathroom door. “Get cleaned up before bed, yes. Wash away the germs of the day.”

“I don’t mind your germs.” I blurt out.

“That’s good to know, sweetheart.”

“I do need to wash before I get into bed.” I alternate between looking at him and at the bathroom door.

Riagan laughs. “Go ahead. I’ll be here when you get out.”

Good.

I worried he would leave.

I don’t want him to.

“Okay.” I whisper and turn the knob, opening the bathroom door.

“Okay.”

Then, I spend exactly fifteen minutes scrubbing my body more than once, washing away all the dirt and grime I might’ve accumulated during the day. You never know what type of bacteria clings to you without you realizing it.

Germs are sneaky little jerks. Once I’m done, I grab the towel that’s hanging on the wall. It’s white, clean, and warm.

I hum contempt when I wrap it around my body.

Exiting the bathroom, I’m surprised to find Riagan sitting quietly at the end of the bed.

He waited.

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