Page 137 of Mila: The Godfather

Joy.

Pride.

Love.

I’ve come to recognize them all, and every time they’re directed at me.

With my heart on my sleeve, I look into his eyes for a couple of seconds. More than I’m used to.

His blue eyes appear lighter, almost the same shade as mine.

We both stare into each other’s eyes without saying anything, but at the same time, feeling a lot.

His hand goes to my hip, but he still doesn’t say a word.

Again, him giving me the reins.

He is giving me a choice.

I could stop this now or give myself fully to him.

“Riagan?” I whisper quietly, unable to disguise my nerves. As brave as I feel right now and as comfortable as I feel in his arms, there’s always going to be shyness and nerves. It’s who I am. I am okay with it.

He’s shown me that he is, too, so there’s no need to hide who I am. Not with him.

“Yes?” His voice is husky and full of desire, and God does it do things to my body.

Hell, to my heart as well.

It drives me crazy.

He drives me crazy.

“Fuck me,” I blur out.

Then, I feel my face heat.

Because, oh God, did I just say that out loud? Did I just curse?

His hands convulsed on my hips, and then we were moving.

He moved quickly, ripping my shirt off faster than I could draw a startled breath.

Then, he took my panties off next, and then he was settling between my thighs.

I was so wet that he didn’t need to do any preparation—I’d been thinking about this very thing half the night.

Yet, his fingers, still gentle as hell every time he touched me, came to my pussy and swirled.

“Wet,” he growled. “So fuckin’ wet.”

“You do that to me,” I breathe out. “Your voice. Your kisses and the thing from before.”

“My tongue on your delicious cunt, you mean?” he teased.

“Ahhh…yes, that.”

Then he was bringing one breast up to his mouth and suckling lightly. “So sweet, my baby.”

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