Page 100 of When Hearts Collide

She waggles her brows, the spark appearing back in her eyes. “What that means is, it’s much easier for a woman to get to a man. She just needs to poke through the thin silk screen to reach his heart, but it’s much harder for a man to get to a woman. So, you have a distinct advantage.”

“Probably because the idiots are ruled by their brains down below.” I snort, motioning to my groin.

“Bingo. Exactly.” She sits up, her soothing voice picking up in volume, and says, “If I were to pretend to be our evil genius friend, Tay, what would she say?”

I laugh. “She’d probably be hurling F-bombs and other expletives at Ryland and men in general.”

Belle chuckles. “Yes, she would, but then she’d probably say,” Belle’s face twist in a comical scowl resembling Taylor, “‘If you like him so much, Millie, then grab him by the balls.’ And she’d be right. Obviously, you guys have an emotional connection and it sounds like on the physical side, things are combustible too.”

My skin heats as I think of his scorching kisses, his deep growls in my ear making my panties wet, the orgasms he tears out of me in the few make out occasions that are too few and far between.

“Ugh. That flush on your face totally answers my question and I’m really jealous, girl,” Belle comments, a knowing smirk on her face. “If he’s pulling away but still giving you those ‘tomorrows’ as you call them, he’s obviously torn inside and definitely still wants you but doesn’t know how to get out of his head…or this brain on top,” she taps her index finger against her temple. “I say, let’s take it up a notch and engage his brain down there and kick off ‘Operation Vixen.’”

“Operation V—What?” I can’t stop the incredulity from seeping into my voice.

She sits back, a smug grin on her face, her fingers twirling around a thick lock of silky black hair. “You know how we just launched McKenzie’s Little Secrets?”

I nod. Her family’s new luxury lingerie line has taken the fashion industry by storm, rivaling some of the bigger brands like Agent Provocateur or La Perla. The cute, lacy designs are sexy, available in a wide range of sizes to embrace the unique body shapes of women, and are made to empower the wearer, to flatter and make them confident in their own bodies.

“Well, we’ve partnered with the famous sex toy company, Femme Fatale, and are beta testing a few lingerie products with built-in toys.”

My eyes widen. “I mean, that sounds exciting and all, but how does that have anything to do with Ryland or this ‘Operation Vixen?’”

Belle twiddles her thumbs. “Well, he always comments how he’s much older than you and more experienced and all that. Let’s show him how worldly you are…unleash your inner vixen, if you will.”

She leans forward eagerly and whispers, “We have this prototype you can wear…you can be our beta tester, and I think he will go crazy over you. Absolutely insane. Let’s bulldoze over those mental hurdles he has. Have him lead the march with his brain down there for once.”

Curiosity sifts through me, and I clutch the hot chocolate tighter in my hands, finally feeling its warmth spread from my skin to my insides.

“Tell me more.”

Chapter 39

I blow out a deep breath before I step through the classroom door.

I’m late today. On purpose. A dramatic entrance, if you will. But part of me is nervous because of what I’m about to do. I’m pulling out all the punches, throwing everything at the wall to see what sticks.

Taking a risk.

Knowing him, he won’t let it get too far in public. And because I have faith and trust in him, I know this is a risk worth taking.

Silence sweeps through the room as heads swivel in my direction. I feel his heated gaze on me almost immediately.

Holding my head high, I stride inside. My face twitches, and I bite back a smirk at Chloe’s jaw dropping open. Tossing my thick hair, meticulously curled into loose waves, over my shoulders, I turn toward Ryland, meeting his intense stare, his stormy eyes flashing, but this time, instead of anger, I see a mixture of lust, admiration, and frustration swirling in those murky pools.

Under his unwavering attention, my skin feels sensitive. The wide neck sapphire sweater wrap dress, the color matching my eyes, feels rough against my skin, even though it’s made of cashmere.

Belle dressed me up this morning to kick off Operation Vixen, lending me one of her brand’s luxurious wrap dresses, which highlights the swells of my cleavage, tapers around my waist, and lands mid-thigh, showcasing my lean legs clad in thigh-high leather boots, with an enticing sliver of skin showing between the tops of the boots and the hem of my outfit.

She also helped me with my makeup, a gray smoky eye that doesn’t look over-the-top for daytime but makes my eyes pop, three coats of mascara, a perfectly done cat eye, all paired with an orange-red lipstick. The seductive outfit is unusual for me, someone who’s more comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt, but now watching him staring at me, his eyes tracking each sway of my hips as I make my way toward him, all the preparation has been worth it.

But what’s most unusual about today, outside of the care I put into my makeup and dress, is the little scrap of lace between my thighs. Amore is what McKenzie’s Little Secrets calls this innovative underwear—an open-back panty made from the sheerest lace with delicate floral designs, two barely there straps crisscrossing over the cheeks of my ass, which is bare all the way to my puckered rosebud.

But that’s not all. Under the tiny scrap of cloth covering my slit lies a thin vibrator with two nubs, one nestled comfortably against my clit, and another, longer one, which resembles a mini dildo, inserted inside my entrance. I can barely feel it any more than I can feel a tampon, but the fact I’m wearing that under this sexy dress has me wanting to clench my thighs.

As if he senses the wayward direction of my thoughts, Ryland’s dark eyes flare and a pulse flutters in his throat. His hands curl into fists on top of his desk as I step closer, reaching inside my tote to take out an analysis that is due today.

Leaning toward him slightly, I whisper, “Sorry, Professor, for being late today. It won’t happen again.”

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