The Forbidden Throb Chapter 111

Emma's POV:

Daniel sat in the cream-colored leather seat, his posture relaxed yet somehow commanding even in stillness.

Two buttons of his white dress shirt were open, revealing the hollow of his throat and a glimpse of collarbones.

From this angle, looking down at him from the entrance step, I should have felt some advantage. Height. Distance. Control.

Instead, my knees went weak.

He tilted his head back to meet my gaze, and the movement made his Adam's apple shift beneath pale skin.

The reading light above his seat cast shadows along the clean line of his jaw, highlighting the sharp angle where it met his neck.

"Emma." His voice was low, measured.

My face burned. I'd been standing here staring at him like some kind of fool.

I forced my feet to move, stepping down into the suite proper.

His cologne—mint and citrus—seemed stronger in the enclosed space, making my head spin slightly.

I looked away quickly, pretending to examine the suite's features. The window overlooking Boston's nightscape. The cream-colored seats that would convert to beds. The polished wood accents.

Anything to avoid staring at that open collar, those two undone buttons, the way his shirt pulled slightly across his shoulders when he shifted position.

My heart was pounding so hard I was certain he could hear it.

This felt absurdly intimate—like we'd checked into a hotel room together, complete with a double bed and locked door.

The kind of situation that should mean *something*. That *would* mean something, in any normal relationship.

But Daniel's expression remained perfectly composed.

I hated how my mind kept racing to places it shouldn't go. Hated the flush creeping up my neck, the way my pulse jumped every time he moved. He was being considerate, thoughtful—the way he always was. And here I was, reading into every gesture like some foolish romantic.

*Get it together, Emma*, I thought desperately, pressing my sweaty palms against my coat.

"This is—" I cleared my throat, trying to steady my voice. "Why the sudden upgrade?"

Daniel rose from his seat with fluid grace, his movements unhurried.

"Tomorrow's forum schedule is quite demanding. I was concerned the economy seats wouldn't allow you proper rest."

I opened my mouth to say I was used to economy, that I didn't need special treatment, but what came out was a small, "Thank you."

From his briefcase, Daniel extracted a thick stack of conference materials and his laptop. He settled back into his seat, and within seconds he was absorbed in the documents.

I retrieved my phone from my purse and climbed onto one side of the converted bed, my back against the cabin wall.

The mattress was surprisingly comfortable. I pulled my coat tighter around myself, suddenly hyperaware of the deep green wrap dress Olivia had insisted I wear.

"Battle armor," she'd called it.

At the time, the V-neckline had seemed elegant. Sophisticated. But now, in this enclosed space with Daniel just feet away, it felt too revealing. Too obvious.

I tugged the lapels closer together, willing myself to disappear into the upholstery.

Daniel's profile was illuminated by his reading lamp—the straight line of his nose, the sharp angle of his jaw, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks behind those glasses. His brow furrowed slightly as he read, pen tapping against his lower lip in concentration.

I sighed quietly and unlocked my phone, deciding to at least check my messages.

The screen lit up with 99+ unread notifications from the "Paris Press Corps" group chat. My eyebrows rose.

What could possibly have generated that much activity in the past half hour?

Curious despite myself, I opened the chat.

The messages flooded my screen—a solid wall of texts, photos, and emoji reactions.

I scrolled up, trying to find where it started, and felt my face grow hot as I read.

**Sarah Martinez:** *OMG ladies look what I captured* *Dr. Prescott at the gate. Those proportions are INSANE. Like, 6'2"? Those legs? I could stare for a year*

Below the text was a candid photo of Daniel in profile, taken from across the gate area. The angle caught him mid-stride, suit jacket open, briefcase in hand, looking every inch the Harvard professor he was.

**Professor Laurent:** *Sarah you're being completely shameless* *But I mean... yes. Dr. Prescott is quite... well. He's certainly impressive in all aspects*

**Professor Laurent:** *And did you see his hands? Surgeon's hands. So elegant*

My thumb hovered over the screen, torn between mortification and an absurd surge of possessive pride.

I kept scrolling.

**Sarah Martinez:** *Too bad he's taken* *Emma you're so lucky*

My finger slipped, accidentally hitting a comma in the text input box.

I stared in horror as the single punctuation mark was sent.

The chat went silent for exactly three seconds.

Then Professor Laurent's reply appeared: *Emma? Dr. Prescott was very generous with the upgrades! So thoughtful! Please convey my thanks. *

Everyone was posting proper, professional thank-yous. Complimenting Daniel's generosity. Expressing gratitude for his consideration of the team.

I looked back at my phone, at the group chat now full of polite gratitude.

"Daniel?" My voice came out smaller than intended.

He pulled one earphone aside, turning to face me. His expression was inquiring but gentle, those gray-blue eyes patient.

"Yes?"

I gestured to my phone, trying to keep my voice steady. "Professor Laurent and Sarah wanted me to thank you. For arranging the upgrades. They really appreciate it."

A smile ghosted across his lips.

"Please tell them it's my pleasure. Consider it a thanks for looking after our Mrs. Prescott these past few days."

*Our Mrs. Prescott.*

Heat flooded my face instantly, spreading from my cheeks down my neck.

The captain's voice crackled through the speakers, announcing in English and French that we'd reached cruising altitude.

The cabin lights dimmed further, leaving only Daniel's reading lamp and the soft glow of the bed's ambient lighting.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we've reached our cruising altitude. Please feel free to rest. *Bonne nuit*."

I should sleep. Tomorrow would be demanding—the forum started early, and I'd need to be sharp for the report and translation work.

But sleep felt impossible.

I tried closing my eyes, willing my body to relax. But I was too aware of everything.

I shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. Turned on my side, pressing my cheek against the cool cabin wall. Flipped to my back, pulling the collar of my coat open to let air reach my throat. Curled onto my other side, one arm escaping the covers seeking cooler air.

Each movement made the bed creak softly. Each adjustment seemed magnified in the quiet space.

The dress beneath my coat clung to my skin, the wrap style suddenly feeling confining. I wanted to take off the coat, but underneath, the V-neck dipped low enough that it felt too exposed.

And I certainly couldn't remove the dress—that would leave me in nothing but undergarments.

I cursed Olivia silently for convincing me this was good idea. *Battle armor* my ass. This was torture.

"Having trouble sleeping?"