The Forbidden Throb (Emma and Daniel) novel Chapter 128

Chapter 128

Emma’s POV:

The elevator doors slid shut behind me, sealing off the hall’s lingering energy.

Back in the suite, I stood before my open suitcase, hands trembling slightly.

The sensible choice sat folded on top-a cream cashmere sweater and dark wool pants. Warm, practical, appropriate for walking through

Christmas markets on a December evening.

My fingers bypassed them entirely, reaching instead for the garment wrapped in tissue paper at the very bottom.

The deep red velvet dress. The velvet felt impossibly soft beneath my fingertips.

I showered quickly, applied minimal makeup, and slipped into the dress.

It hugged my curves in ways my usual conservative outfits never did. The back dipped low, exposing skin from my shoulder blades to my waist. The side slit reached mid-thigh, revealing legs with each step.

A spritz of jasmine perfume, one last glance in the mirror, and I grabbed my clutch. My reflection looked back-confident, elegant, maybe even

beautiful.

*You can do this, Emma. *

Daniel changed clothes early and waited for me at the hotel entrance.

I descended the sweeping staircase in my heels click echoing in the grand space.

Daniel stood near the entrance, one hand in his coat pocket, the other holding his phone.

Charcoal wool overcoat, perfectly tailored suit underneath, the picture of East Coast elite composure.

Then he looked up.

His entire body went still.

His gaze started at my heels and traveled upward-slowly, deliberately-taking in the exposed leg, the cinched waist, the bare shoulders and back.

When his eyes finally met mine, they were darker than I’d ever seen them.

“You look…” His voice came out rougher than usual. He cleared his throat. “Stunning, Emma.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. I descended the last few steps and crossed to him, perhaps too quickly. “We should go. The market closes at midnight.“

9:38 am

Chapter 128

ppp.

The taxi deposited us at the entrance to the Champs-Élysées Marché de Noël just as full darkness descended.

Paris transformed into something out of a storybook-strings of warm golden lights draped between decorated Christmas trees, wooden chalets

lined up in neat rows stretching into the distance, the air thick with the scent of roasted chestnuts, vin chaud, and caramelized almonds.

Light snow had begun to fall, gentler than the storm that had battered the city during our conference days. Flakes caught in the glow of Art Nouveau street lamps, drifting down through the golden light like something out of a dream.

The cold nipped at my nose and cheeks.

I could feel my nose turning red, and the mingled scents of roasted chestnuts, caramelized almonds, and mulled wine made my stomach rumble audibly. Without thinking, I wrinkled my nose and sniffed at the air, trying to identify each delicious aroma.

When I glanced up, Daniel was watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite read-something soft around his eyes, a hint of amusement at

his lips.

“Cold or hungry?” he asked, his breath creating small clouds in the crisp air.

I looked up at him. Snow caught on his dark eyelashes, melting quickly from his body heat.

Olivia’s voice echoed in my head: “In Paris, a woman taking initiative isn’t just accepted-it’s appreciated. And Em? That man has been holding back for months. Give him a reason not to.”

“Cold. Your coat pockets…” The words came out before I could overthink them. “Are they warm?”

Daniel’s lips curved into something that made my stomach flip. “Why don’t you find out by yourself?”

He turned slightly, opening his Burberry coat in invitation.

The gesture should have been simple, practical. Instead, it felt loaded with meaning I wasn’t quite ready to unpack.

My fingers trembled as I slipped my cold hand into his coat pocket. The cashmere lining was soft and warm, but before I could even process that comfort, his hand engulfed mine completely.

His long fingers interlaced with mine, palm to palm, and the heat of his skin made me gasp.

“Still cold?” His voice had dropped to that low register again, the one that made my knees weak.

“A little,” I managed, though truthfully I felt like I might combust.

His thumb began tracing slow patterns on my wrist. The touch was maddeningly light, almost absent-minded, but it sent electricity shooting

up my arm.

We walked slowly through the market, my hand still tucked in his pocket, his body angled slightly toward me as if to block the wind.

Tourists and locals alike browsed the wooden stalls, their laughter and chatter creating a warm backdrop to the Christmas music playing from

9:38 am

Chapter 128

PPP

hidden speakers.

Daniel stopped at a stall selling caramelized almonds. The warm glow from the vendor’s lamp cast shadows across his face, emphasizing the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lower lip.

“What would you like to try?” he asked, his tone casual.

“Anything is fine,” I said automatically.

Every bit of my attention had narrowed to a single point-our joined hands in his coat pocket. I could barely think past the heat of his palm pressed against mine, the way his longer fingers completely engulfed my hand.

“The almonds or the nougat?” Daniel’s voice seemed to come from very far away.

“Either is good.”

Another circle on my wrist. My breath hitched.

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