The Forbidden Throb (Emma and Daniel) novel Chapter 149

Chapter 149

I paused, spoon halfway to my mouth. “Wait. Everyone’s been complaining about the hotel food all week. How did you manage to find something this good?”

“When was your last meal, Emma?” His eyebrows rose slightly.

The question caught me off guard. I thought back-yesterday had been a blur of crying in gardens and dramatic revelations and riding the metro with my heart in pieces.

“Um. Coffee at that café near the university?” I offered. “And… I think there was a petit four.”

Daniel’s expression did something complicated. “That was yesterday afternoon. No wonder everything tastes good.”

“That’s not-” I took another spoonful, let the flavors settle on my tongue.

Rich beef stock, the subtle sweetness of caramelized onions, black pepper and celery and something else I couldn’t quite identify. “No. This is legitimately delicious. Like, better than what I’ve had at actual restaurants.”

I looked up at him, suddenly suspicious. “Which restaurant made this? Because I’m absolutely recommending it to everyone.”

Daniel hesitated before speaking, “I made it.”

The words hung in the air between us.

I blinked. “What?”

“This morning.” He gestured vaguely toward the kitchenette. “The suite has a small stove. Limited equipment, but functional enough.”

“You…” My brain was struggling to process this. “You made this? At-” I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “What time did you even wake

up?”

“Early.” That slight smile again. “You needed proper food. ”

I stared down at the bowl-at the tender beef that fell apart at the lightest pressure, the precise balance of flavors.

Something hot and tight formed in my chest, rising up my throat until my eyes started to burn.

“Emma?” Daniel leaned forward, concern immediate in his voice. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling ill?*

I shook my head, not trusting my voice. A tear escaped anyway, tracking hot down my cheek.

He shifted closer, his hand coming up to tilt my chin so he could see my face properly.

“Hey. His voice had gone impossibly soft. “Talk to me. Where does it hurt?”

I shook my head again, harder this time, and did something that surprised both of us-I leaned forward and pressed my face against his

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Chapter 149

shoulder, rubbing my cheek against the crisp cotton of his shirt like a cat seeking comfort.

“It doesn’t hurt. I mumbled against the fabric. “I’m not sad.”

His hand came up to cradle the back of my head, uncertain. “Then why-

‘I’m happy.” The words came out thick, muffled. “I’m so happy I don’t know what to do with it.”

1 felt him go still. Then his arms came around me properly, one hand stroking down my back in that soothing rhythm he’d used earlier.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “Thank you for this. For everything.”

I used to watch romantic movies and not understand it-what kind of love could make someone feel like the world ending wouldn’t matter? Like nothing else existed except this one person, this one moment?

But sitting here in Daniel’s arms, tasting beef and cinnamon on my tongue, still wearing his shirt and surrounded by evidence of his care- something in my chest felt crystallized. Fragile and precious, like spun sugar.

Daniel shifted, one hand coming up to steady the bowl before it could tip. Then he pressed a kiss to my temple-soft, lingering,

“I only have one Mrs. Prescott,” he murmured against my skin. “Can’t have her skipping meals and wasting away. Who else would I take care

of?”

That made me cry harder. Stupid, messy tears that I couldn’t control.

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