Page 95 of Mila: The Godfather

My mouth waters when Riagan starts to open the containers, revealing more sushi rolls.

Avocado, cream cheese, and cucumber roll.

California roll.

And the one that has me itching to get a taste, so I do. Reaching forward, I grab a barbecue beef roll and pop it in my mouth.

Once the delicious taste hits my tastebuds, I can’t help but moan aloud.

I’m surprised he didn’t go the traditional route and choose the Americanized one.

Not that I am complaining.

I dislike fish.

The taste and the texture.

Does he know? Did I tell him that small fact? No, I don’t think so.

“I take it you enjoy it?” Riagan’s humorous tone snaps me out of my head. Heat creeps in when I realize I just stuck my hand and helped myself to the food without waiting for him to join me. Quirks and all, I do have manners. It’s just that sometimes my excitement takes over, and I act impulsively.

The roll smelled and looked delicious. I wanted it, so I went for it.

“Sowwy.” I say between bites, cringing when I realize I spoke with my mouth full. I keep making a fool of myself.

“Stop saying you’re sorry, sweetheart, and go ahead. Eat all you want. I like watching you eat.”

“You do?” I pick up another sushi roll. This time a California roll after finishing the other. Frowning, I shove the full roll into my mouth and frown at a smiling Riagan. “Do you have an eating fetish?” I say out of nowhere while still munching on the roll.

“Eating fetish?”

Nodding I explain. “Yes! It’s when people find pleasure in watching others stuff their faces with food. I don’t particularly enjoy watching people stuff their faces, but I don’t mind it if you do. Do not feel embarrassed.”

He laughs out loud, and I instantly feel pressure in my chest. Music to my ears. That’s what his laugh is to me. You see… Riagan is everything I am not. He is strong, loud, and brave, and oftentimes, I find him a bit petty, and I am the opposite.

“I don’t have an eating fetish, sweetheart. I like watching you enjoy something I make. That is all.”

“Me too.” I take another bite of the roll. “I liked how your face lit up when you ate my waffles. I will make you more just so I can watch you smile like that again” Swallowing my last bite, I notice he is not eating. Just watching me. Something I learned the past few days is that I like his eyes on me as much as I liked his lips on mine.

How strange yet wonderful the realization is.

“Likewise, Mila.” He grins before popping two rolls in his mouth at the same time. Riagan is huge compared to most men. It’s fitting that he eats like crazy too.

We both sit in comfortable silence as we eat, one that I have only ever experienced with him. I find myself staring at him while he looks out the gazebo toward the beach. I do that a lot lately.

I watch him while he focuses on something else.

Unashamedly, I stare at his profile. I found that Riagan doesn’t have a bad side like most people claim they do. Every side of him is raw beauty. Masculinity. Confidence.

And as much as I like his appearance, what I love most is his ability to make me feel at peace.

Riagan is serenity even in all his beautiful chaos.

I feel a feather-light touch on my hand, letting me know that I zoned out while I watched him enjoy his food. Looking down, I notice my hand is now clasped in his much larger one as he plays with my ring. The beautiful ring that symbolizes our fake engagement.

“Want to trade secrets?” Riagan says, breaking the silence first.

He wants to trade secrets?

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