The Forbidden Throb Chapter 114

Daniel's POV:

The words hung in the air between us—*He'll love it*—and for a moment, I thought maybe that would be enough.

That Emma would settle back into her seat, satisfied with my answer, and let the alcohol pull her into sleep.

But her arms tightened around my neck, and those blue-green eyes with wine fixed on my face with an intensity that made my chest constrict.

"You know what?" Her voice carried that sweet, slurred quality that alcohol brings, but underneath it ran something raw. Something that made every nerve in my body go taut. "He probably won't even like it."

The words came out flat. Matter-of-fact.

My throat constricted. "Why would you think that?"

Emma's fingers stilled against my collar. For a moment, she just looked at me, and I watched something shift in her expression—hurt bleeding through the wine-softened edges.

"Because he's..." She paused, searching for words. "He's so *distant*. I wore this dress at home once, made dinner, thought maybe..." Her voice wavered. "He barely looked at me. Just said it was nice and went back to his study."

The tears were falling faster now, and Emma wiped at them clumsily with the back of her hand, frustrated and embarrassed and so heartbreakingly vulnerable that I couldn't breathe.

Her fingers found my collar, toying with the fabric in absent patterns.

My throat had gone completely dry.

"Emma." Finally. Her name rasped like I'd swallowed broken glass. "If you think he finds you unbearable, why wear this dress for him?"

The question came out harsher than I'd intended.

Emma blinked at me. For several seconds she just stared, and I watched emotions flicker across her face too quickly to name.

"Because I want him to look at me." The words were simple. Devastating.

Her gaze dropped to my mouth.

"Your lips..." she murmured, and suddenly her face was closer. "They're shaped just like his."

Every muscle in my body locked.

"Emma—"

But her arms were tightening around my neck, eliminating the space between us until I could feel the warmth of her breath against my jaw.

"Can I..." She stopped. Started again. "Would you let me practice?"

My brain short-circuited.

"Practice," I repeated flatly.

"Like a... a pre-test." She said it so earnestly, like she was proposing something perfectly reasonable. "I'm probably terrible at it. And I don't want Daniel to be disappointed when he finally..."

She trailed off, but the implication hung heavy in the air.

My fingers had gone white-knuckled on the armrests.

I'd been fighting the urge to kiss her since approximately the second time we'd met.

Emma was looking at me with such earnest hope, and her lower lip caught between her teeth, and I...

"You're sure?" My voice came out barely above a whisper.

Destroyed. I sounded destroyed.

Emma nodded, quick and nervous. "I'm sure."

Then she took a breath and leaned in.

The first kiss landed at the corner of my mouth.

Quick. Chaste. Gone before I could fully process it.

Emma pulled back immediately, her face flaming red, lashes fluttering like she couldn't quite meet my eyes. "Was that... okay?"

*Okay.*

That brief, feather-light touch had sent electricity singing through every nerve ending I possessed. My lips still tingled with the ghost of it—strawberry wine and something uniquely Emma.

I couldn't speak. Could barely breathe.

She took my silence as permission.

This time when she leaned in, there was more confidence. Her lips found mine properly, soft and questioning and sweet enough to stop my heart.

The kiss was inexperienced, yes—tentative in a way—but there was genuine curiosity in it too. Genuine *want*.

Her hand flattened against my chest, right over my hammering heart.

When she pulled back, her eyes were bright. "How was that? Better?"

The question was so innocent, so genuinely anxious, that something cracked inside me.

And she had no idea that I was one word away from completely losing my mind.

When she leaned in again, my hand had moved to her waist without conscious thought, steadying her. Or maybe steadying myself.

"Emma." My voice came out dark. Dangerous.

Emma's eyes widened, but before she could respond, I'd slid one hand to cup the back of her neck, fingers threading through that gold-brown hair. My other hand moved to her jaw, angling her face up to meet mine.

"This," I said against her lips, "is how he wants to kiss you."

Then I closed the distance between us.

This wasn't Emma's careful exploration. My mouth moved over hers with focused intensity. I was mapping every gasp, every tiny sound she made, committing them to memory with the desperate thoroughness.

Emma made a small, shocked noise against my mouth.

Then her fingers curled into my shirt, holding on.

The kiss deepened. I felt her lips part beneath mine, felt the exact moment her nervous tension transformed into something else entirely.

Her body curved into mine, soft and warm and *willing*, and it took every ounce of control I had left not to completely lose myself.

When I gentled the kiss—pulling back enough to trace the curve of her lower lip with my tongue—she shivered. The amethyst bracelet caught the light as her hand moved from my shirt to curl around my neck.

I forced myself to lift my head.

Emma's eyes were unfocused, her lips pink and slightly swollen, her breath coming in quick little pants. She looked thoroughly kissed. Dazed.

Beautiful.

"Tired?" I kept my voice soft, but it still came out rough around the edges.

"Mm." She was already nestling closer, tucking her face against my shoulder. "Sleepy now..."

My hand moved to stroke her hair, gentle and steady. "You said you wanted to kiss him, didn't you?"

Emma nodded against my chest, eyes already drifting closed. "Want to kiss Daniel..."

She said it so simply. So honestly.

Something warm expanded in my chest, displacing the last of the evening's uncertainty.

"Good girl, " I murmured.

I leaned down, pressing my lips to hers one more time. This kiss was different from the others—slower, deeper.