Page 167 of Mila: The Godfather

My heart.

My thoughts are interrupted when she squeezes my neck tightly and breathes out. “Thank you for loving me, Riagan. For who I am.” There’s a vulnerability in her words that makes my chest ache. One day, I’ll get her to see just how extraordinary she really is. One day, she won’t doubt it.

“You’re perfect,” I answer seriously. “You make the world pretty, butterfly.”

Her blue eyes turn soft. There’s tenderness in them. “Ria—”

My mouth cuts her off as it crashes down on hers.

Her taste made an addict out of me.

One taste has me weak in the knees.

Weak for her.

My sweet vixen.

Pulling back, I release her lips and watch her pretty face as she scowls adorably. “More.”

Laughing, I reach inside my jeans pocket and pull out the crumbled piece of paper I’ve been carrying with me for weeks and place it between us. She untangles one arm from my neck and grabs the paper.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.”

“This is my bucket list.”

“Wish number nine made. You can cross it out, baby. And while you’re at it, cross off numbers one and seven.”

“But I can’t. I haven’t changed someone’s life.”

“You have. You changed mine, butterfly.”

She stays quiet for a moment too long, and I wonder if I pushed too hard, but then she grabs my face and whispers close to my lips. Her sweet scent was all over me. “Forever, Riagan?”

“Forever, butterfly.”

And then she surprises me by kissing me as if she needs me to breathe.

I do.

I need her to breathe.

I’m utterly obsessed with the tiny magical girl who appeared out of nowhere and made her home in my once-black and hollowed heart.

My Mila.

Unsent message from M

Dear, C,

Found you. - M

Touch His Heart

MILA

“Thank you for being my person.” — M

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