Page 120 of Mila: The Godfather

I can be myself around him and not worry so much about being perfect or society’s definition of it. Yes, I get nervous, but not because I’m afraid of him judging me, but because I want him to like me.

He never judges and never makes me feel inadequate. He is unlike anyone else.

Almost too good to be true.

“Tell me something else?” He asked quietly. His voice was warm, smooth, soft, like an enveloping hug that could wash all your worries away.

“Like what?” I breathe out.

“Another fact.” He traces the bridge of my nose with his tattooed finger, then moves it down to my top lip.

His soft touch causes heat to crawl up from my neck to my cheeks.

“Did you know that Stockholm Syndrome got its name from a bank robbery in Norrmalmstorg in Stockholm, Sweden, in 1973?” I speak, then my fun little fact is followed by silence… again.

And then he does it.

My favorite thing in the world right now.

He laughs.

“Are you trying to tell me something, sweetheart?”

I nod and lift my hand to his chest and do my best to hold his stare. “Yes.”

“Tell me then.”

“I am not suffering from Stockholm Syndrome.” I feel his chest expand and his heart beat more strongly than it was before. Smiling softly at that, I continue. “What I am trying to say is that I choose you, Riagan. I chose you back in that alley, and I chose to be here with you today.”

Then, I notice his eyes flash with something I’ve come to learn while being with him is desire. Yes, desire. That’s exactly it.

His heart races, and his nostrils flare.

Some indicators that prove my theory.

I love how little butterflies come to life in my stomach every time our eyes meet.

“Let’s get you out of this dress so you can rest. It’s been an eventful day.” He whispers as he moves closer. His cologne wafts into my nose. I love the way he smells. Manly. Clean. Fresh.

“So, no sex?” I blurt out.

“Do you want to have sex?” His voice does things to me. Things I’ve never felt before him.

I think about his question.

Do I want to? That’s the million-dollar question. I take too long to answer, so I’m busy stuck in my head trying to come up with the best answer when he interrupts me. “Turn around.”

Lost for words, I do as he says because it gives me a distraction. I don’t get to tell him all I’m feeling. How I find myself craving his touch, but I’m afraid. I’m afraid he will be disappointed at my lack of sexual experience.

Yes, he is kind to me, but he is still a man.

An older man who surely knows exactly what he wants in bed while I know nothing.

Will I be able to please him?

Nerves get the best of me, so I try to push them down and focus on him instead.

Feeling his hot breath at the back of my neck, I find it difficult to find my next breath.

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