The Forbidden Throb Chapter 102

Emma's POV:

The hand on my shoulder made me flinch.

I spun around in my chair, heart hammering—only to find Olivia grinning down at me, her auburn hair swept into a messy bun, canvas tote bag slung over one shoulder.

"Hey," she said, completely oblivious to my near heart attack. "Ready for lunch?"

Relief flooded through me so forcefully I nearly laughed. *Thank God.*

"Yes." I grabbed my laptop with perhaps too much enthusiasm, shoving it into my bag alongside scattered notebooks. "Absolutely. Let's go."

Olivia raised an eyebrow at my sudden urgency but didn't comment. As we wound through the study tables, she suddenly slowed, eyes brightening.

"Oh, hey, isn't that Blake Morrison?" She lifted her hand in a wave. "Blake! I haven't seen you since—"

"We need to go," I said, grabbing her elbow and steering her firmly toward the elevator.

"Emma, what—"

"Now." I kept my grip on her arm, not looking back. "Please."

Olivia allowed herself to be pulled along, though I could feel her curious gaze on my profile. The elevator doors slid open and I practically pushed her inside, jabbing the button for the ground floor.

Only when the doors closed did I release the breath I'd been holding.

"So," Olivia said, adjusting her tote bag. "Want to tell me why you looked like you'd seen a ghost back there?"

I sighed, glancing at her sideways.

"He keeps showing up wherever I am. Offering to help with my project. Today he brought me coffee and a stack of research papers."

Olivia's expression shifted to something between amusement and confusion. "And that's... bad? Emma, that sounds like a guy who's genuinely interested and putting in effort."

"I'm not interested," I said quickly, perhaps too quickly. " Besides, I'm married."

"Oh, please." Olivia waved her hand dismissively. "That marriage is practically a formality. You need actual romance, Emma. Affection. You can't spend your whole life with someone you don't like—"

"It's not like that," I interrupted, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.

"Really?" Olivia stopped walking, turning to face me with a knowing smirk playing at her lips. "Because I've been watching you these past few weeks, and you look exactly like a girl who's falling in love."

My stomach flipped. "What do you mean?"

"The way you check your phone every five minutes. How your whole face lights up when you get a text from him. That little smile you get when you think no one's looking."

She crossed her arms, grinning wider. "Emma Johnson, you are *gone* for him."

I didn't deny it. Couldn't deny it. Instead, I took a shaky breath and met her eyes.

"Then tell me how to do it," I said quietly. "How to pursue someone? "

Olivia's grin faded into surprise, her eyes widening.

"Oh, Emma," she said, reaching out to squeeze my arm. "Are you serious?"

"Completely." My voice came out smaller than I intended. "Olivia. I've never—I don't know how to make the first move."

For a moment, she just looked at me. Then she linked her arm firmly through mine.

"Alright," she said, tugging me forward along the sidewalk. "We're definitely getting lunch now. Because this conversation requires food, strategy, and my full attention."

---

Twenty minutes later, we were seated in a corner booth at Salty Pig, a cozy gastropub on Newbury Street known for its handcrafted pizzas and charcuterie boards.

Exposed brick walls were decorated with vintage photographs of Boston, and the air smelled of wood-fired dough and aged cheese.

"Emma." Olivia set down her menu, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. "Talk to me. What's really going on?"

I took a breath, then another. "It just... hit me. In one moment, I suddenly realized that I—" I swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "That I have feelings for Daniel. Real feelings."

"When?" Olivia asked softly.

"I don't even know exactly. Maybe it was when he drove all the way to Portland in the rain just to see me. Or when I woke up and found myself in his bed, knowing he'd carried me there. Or maybe it's been building this whole time and I was just too scared to admit it."

I looked down at my hands. "But now I know. And I can't just... wait anymore. I want to fight for this. For once in my life, I want to try."

Then, to my surprise, she laughed—a bright, delighted sound that made several other diners glance our way.

"Emma Johnson," she said, grinning broadly. "Are you asking me how to seduce your own husband?"

My face burned. "Don't say it like that."

Olivia sat back, studying me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Then she picked up her water glass, took a deliberate sip, and set it down with decisive clink.

"Alright. Leave it to me. Today, I'm going to teach you everything I know. By the time I'm done with you, you'll go home and make that man so desperate for you he won't be able to think straight. He'll never forget—"

"Olivia." I held up a hand, face flaming. "That sounds... that sounds wrong."

"What's wrong with it? You're married!"

"I know, but—" I glanced around nervously, lowering my voice. "Can we maybe aim for something less... intense?"

Olivia rolled her eyes but her grin didn't fade. "Fine. But I'm still teaching you everything. No holding back."

"Okay," she said. "First things first—you need to tell me exactly what the situation is. You live together, right?"

"In his apartment, yes."

"And you share a bedroom?"

The question made my stomach flip. "No. We've never actually shared a bed."

"Maybe," Olivia said slowly, "he's waiting for you to give him a signal."

The server arrived then with our order—a margherita pizza for me, a prosciutto and arugula flatbread for Olivia.

The interruption gave me a moment to process her words.

*A signal.*

"So what do I do?" I asked once the server had left.