Page 97 of When Hearts Collide

The warm overhead light casts her face in a beautiful glow and her hair cascades down her back in waves. She doesn’t have a stitch of makeup on.

But she’s perfect. Breathtaking.

“The key is the vanilla and the espresso powder.” She stirs the contents of the saucepan.

“When I was a kid, Mom, of course, left out the espresso powder, because she didn’t want me amped up on caffeine.” She laughs, her eyes taking on a faraway glint, clearly reminiscing about the past. “But later, I found the real recipe in her stuff.”

She looks at me and waggles her brows. “Trust me. The espresso acts as an intensifier, making the chocolate richer.”

Turning off the stove, she wafts her hand over the saucepan, closes her eyes, and inhales the rich scent of chocolate permeating the space. She pours the contents into two mugs and adds whipped cream and a few pieces of tiny marshmallows on top.

Millie hands me a mug, her eyes widening as she watches me take a sip. The richness of the chocolate hits my tongue in an explosion of flavors. It’s creamy and thick, the texture luxurious, but the taste is not too sweet. There is a small thread of bitterness as an aftertaste, keeping everything from becoming too overpowering, followed by a lingering hint of vanilla.

It’s delicious. A liquid warm hug.

I stare at the marshmallows floating on the surface. Am I supposed to eat them or wait for them to melt?

“So? Do you like it? It’s the best, right?” She adds, “The marshmallows are fun, but you don’t need to eat them.”

Of course she knows what I’m thinking.

I stare into her eager sapphire eyes and watch her tongue peek out and swipe at her enticing lips before she takes a sip. The whipped cream lingers on her upper lip.

My breathing stutters as an all-encompassing warmth fills me. Gently, I wipe the cream from her lip and whisper, “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Millie holds my stare, and I set down my mug to the side before slowly bringing my lips to hers, tasting her sweetness at the source. She clutches my sweatpants as she melts into my arms.

Breaking apart to take a breath, I take in her upturned face—her beautiful eyes closed, lashes fanning her pale skin, a rosy glow on her cheeks, her plump lips parted as if she wants another kiss.

In another life, this will all be within reach.

The refrain echoes in my mind and a lump forms in my throat. “So, can I help with anything?”

Her eyes open, and she gives me a sweet smile. “You bet you can. Come on, my big, strong hunter, man the grill. We are having post-coital burgers and hot chocolate.”

She shoves me with her hip and throws out another saucy wink. I laugh, watching her wiggle her butt once more as she shifts out of the way. If I were by myself, I’d ask Gretchen to fix me something before she left or order food from the restaurants downstairs.

But with her, this is what I want.

The normal life. Ryland and Millie. Just simply us.

She walks around the kitchen like she owns the place, taking out other ingredients we need for our late-night meal. A desperate yearning coils inside my chest.

In another life.

The tomorrow she’s asking for.

I want every single tomorrow with her.

Chapter 38

Dear Ryland,

I don’t care what the rest of the world will say about us. The older professor with his forbidden student. I don’t care about the centuries of traditions you think you’re bound to. I refuse to believe fate allowed us to meet only for us to be passing ships in the night.

I think your mom in heaven brought me to you because she couldn’t bear seeing her sensitive son torturing himself, because she knew your cold heart needed warmth, needed sunshine, and I want to be the one to give it to you.

Be brave, Ryland.

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