The Forbidden Throb (Emma and Daniel) novel Chapter 133

Chapter 133

Emma’s POV:

Sunlight filtered through the gap in the velvet curtains. I opened my eyes. My head throbbed.

I lay on unfamiliar silk sheets, wearing a soft ivory nightgown-not the deep red velvet dress I’d worn last night.

My mind went blank.

Then scattered fragments of memory began to surface.

The Christmas market lights. Mistletoe. My fingers grabbing Daniel’s tie. That burning kiss…

Heat flooded my face. My heart raced.

I sat up abruptly, only to fall back against the pillows, dizzy and disoriented.

Oh

God. What did I do?

I struggled to my feet and padded barefoot to the bathroom. The marble floor was cold, jolting me into sharper awareness. I flicked on the light and caught sight of myself in the mirror-

My hair was tangled and loose. Blue-green eyes dazed. Lips slightly swollen.

Faint red marks along my neck and collarbone.

As if I’d been kissed-gently, but insistently.

My trembling fingers touched those marks. My cheeks burned hotter.

Daniel’s low voice echoed in my mind. His warm breath. That sentence: “You’ve been giving me tachycardia for a very long times

My heart hammered. There was shyness, yes, but also a sweet tremor I’d never experienced before.

Then unease crept in.

Was Daniel sincere? Or was it just

a moment of impulse?

1

I washed up quickly and changed into a high necked cream cashmere sweater, trying to hide the marks on my neck When pushed upeat the bedroom door, the scent of coffee and toasted bread drifted from the living room

The table was laden with an exquisite French breakfast croissants, jam, fresh fruit, orange juice

And several items clearly prepared with intention blueberry muffins, maple syrup, mature veterums of Marne lobster calls

I froze.

Chapter 133

Daniel sat at the table, dressed in a charcoal cashmere sweater and white Oxford shirt, his collar buttoned precisely to the second button. He was absorbed in reading the Financial Times.

At the sound of my footsteps, he looked up. His gaze was gentle.

“Good morning, Emma. Does your head still hurt?”

My throat tightened. I hadn’t expected Daniel to be this thoughtful-these home-state foods weren’t easy to find in Paris.

‘It’s… fine.” I sat across from him, unable to meet his eyes directly. Instead, I focused on his hands-those long, elegant fingers.

The same hands that had traced patterns across my skin last night. That had known exactly where to touch, how much pressure to apply.

My face heated again. I picked up a blueberry muffin, trying to mask my nervousness.

Daniel set down his paper. His gaze settled on me. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

“You’ve lost weight,” he said quietly. “Eat more, Emma. You need to take better care of yourself.”

My breath caught.

How does he know I’ve lost weight?

Then my traitorous mind supplied the answer: Because his hands had mapped every curve last night. Because he’d felt-

Heat flooded from my cheeks down to my neck. I grabbed another muffin and bit into it, chewing furiously, using the food as a shield against the mortification burning through me.

“The muffins are good,” I mumbled through a mouthful, not daring to look up.

Anything to hide my flaming face.

I couldn’t help stealing glances at Daniel-still impeccably elegant, his collar pristine, even the top button fastened neatly.

Finally, I set down my fork and summoned my courage, my voice barely a whisper:

Last night… did you sleep well?’

Daniel’s movements stilled. He looked up, and something unreadable flickered in his deep brown eyes

A slight smile curved his lips. Not much.”

My heart sank. Oh God.

“You were…” He paused, choosing his words carefully Particularly clingy after you’d been drinking couldn’t bear to let me gå fer even a

second.

The heat that had been simmering in my cheeks exploded into a full inferno. I stared at him, mortified

Chapter 133

He tilted his head, his expression gentle but unmistakably amused. “And now you’ve forgotten again, haven’t you?

1-1 m not- I stammered, my voice rising in panic. I’m not the kind of person who just-1 mean, I would never-

Oh God, he thinks I’m some kind of… of user. Someone who takes advantage and then pretends nothing happened.

The words tumbled out before I could stop them: “I’ll take responsibility!”

Daniel blinked. Then his smile widened, genuine warmth flooding his features.

Thank you, Mrs. Prescott, for taking me in,” he said softly, a teasing lilt in his voice:

I gaped at him.

“I was worried all night,” he continued, leaning back in his chair with infuriating composure. “Afraid you’d wake up and… refuse to acknowledgi

what happened.”

My jaw dropped.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify