The Forbidden Throb Chapter 123

Emma's POV:

The warmth from the mulled wine spread through my chest, loosening something that had been wound tight for weeks.

Daniel stood slowly, unfolding to his full height.

He was still in his coat, the cashmere draped over one arm, his navy tie loosened at the collar. The warm hotel lighting caught the angles of his face—the sharp line of his jaw, the slight furrow between his brows.

"Emma, you are drunk."

My free hand shot out, fingers closing around the silk of his tie.

I pulled.

Hard.

Daniel stumbled forward half a step, surprise flashing across his features.

His coat slipped from his arm to the floor. The mistletoe trembled in my other hand, its leaves crushing against my palm, the sap sticky and cold against my skin. A drop fell onto my amethyst bracelet, catching the light.

"I'm not drunk," I said, and my voice was steadier now. Stronger. "I just... I can't stop thinking about kissing you."

His pupils dilated. His lips parted slightly.

I didn't give him time to respond.

I rose onto my toes and pressed my mouth to his.

His lips were cool. Soft. For one terrible, endless moment, he didn't move.

I pulled back abruptly, my fingers releasing his tie.

The silk slipped through my grasp, hanging loose against his chest. The entryway light flickered off, leaving only the warm glow from the bedroom sconces.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, snow fell in soft, endless spirals over the Seine. The suite was so quiet I could hear both our breathing.

My hands twisted together in front of me.

"I know we've only been married two months," I said, the words tumbling out in a rush. "We don't really know each other that well. But I... I really will try to be good to you. I promise."

The confession felt clumsy, inadequate. Heat flooded my cheeks.

"I'm—I'm a complete disaster at this. At love." I forced myself to meet his eyes, even though my vision was blurring at the edges. "I just wanted you to know. That's all. I'm not... I'm not expecting anything back."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "So please, don't feel burdened. I just needed to say it."

Silence stretched between us like spun glass—fragile, ready to shatter.

Daniel stood perfectly still, his dark eyes fixed on my face. His tie hung askew, his coat forgotten on the floor somewhere behind us.

The only sign of disturbance was the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the slight flush across his cheekbones.

Then he moved.

His hand came up to cup the back of my head, fingers sliding into my hair, and he kissed me back.

Not gently. Not carefully.

**Like he'd been holding back for far too long.**

The mistletoe slipped from my fingers. His heart hammered beneath my palms—fast, urgent, alive. My own pulse roared in my ears.

When we finally broke apart, I was gasping. My lips felt swollen. Tender.

Daniel's breathing was ragged. He stared at me like he was seeing me for the first time, and I felt suddenly, terribly exposed.

He took a breath. Released it slowly.

"How do I tell you..." His voice was rough, almost raw. "I've been late all along."

I blinked. "What?"

He stepped forward. Once. Twice.

His hand came up to my waist, fingers spreading across the velvet of my dress, pulling me close. His other hand caught mine, lifting it, pressing my palm flat against his chest.

Right over his heart.

"Can you feel it?" he asked quietly.

I could. The steady, rapid thrum beneath my hand—strong and insistent, like a drum beating too fast.

My breath caught.

Daniel lowered his head until his forehead touched mine. His breath ghosted across my lips, warm and mint-sweet.

"Over 110," he murmured. "That's tachycardia—sinus tachycardia, to be precise." His fingers tightened on my waist, pulling me impossibly closer. "Normal resting heart rate is 60 to 100. Anything over 100 is abnormal."

His voice dropped even lower, barely above a whisper.

"And Emma... **you've been giving me tachycardia for a very long time.**"

The world tilted.

My eyes stung. My throat closed. Something inside my chest cracked wide open, flooding me with warmth so intense it was almost painful.

"You..." I tried to speak, but my voice broke. "You really—"

I didn't get to finish.

He kissed me again.

This time, there was no hesitation, no careful control. His hand slid up from my waist to tangle in my hair, tilting my head back as he deepened the kiss.

His tongue traced the seam of my lips, coaxing them apart, and when I opened for him, the sound he made—low and hungry—sent shivers down my spine.

This was fierce. Claiming. Ten times more intense, a hundred times more real.

My knees went weak. I grabbed onto his shoulders, my fingers digging into the fabric of his suit jacket, holding on as if he were the only solid thing in a spinning world.

When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard. His thumb came up to brush away the wetness beneath my eye, his touch unbearably gentle.

"Hold on to me," he said, his voice rough.

Before I could ask what he meant, he bent and swept me up into his arms.

I gasped, my hands flying to his neck as he lifted me effortlessly. The red velvet of my skirt slid up, exposing more leg than I'd intended, and my face burned.

But Daniel's eyes never left mine.

He carried me through the darkened living room, using his elbow to flick off the remaining lights as we passed. The suite fell into shadow, lit only by the glow of Paris beyond the windows and the soft amber of the bedroom sconces.

I buried my face against his shoulder, breathing in the scent that had become achingly familiar. His hand was warm against the bare skin of my calf, steadying me, holding me close.

When we reached the bed, he lowered me carefully onto the edge. The mattress dipped beneath my weight, soft and inviting.

Daniel leaned over me, one hand braced on either side of my hips, caging me in. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and for a moment we just looked at each other.

Then he kissed me again—slower this time, deeper, more deliberate. My hands found the knot of his tie, fumbling with shaking fingers until it loosened. The silk slid free, and Daniel made a sound low in his throat that sent heat pooling in my belly.

He pulled back just enough to reach behind me, tugging the duvet free and draping it across my shoulders.

"Are you sure about this?" His voice was hoarse, strained. "Emma?"

I looked up at him—at this untouchable man who somehow, impossibly, wanted me too.

"I've never been more sure of anything."

Outside, snow continued to fall over Paris. The city lights sparkled like diamonds scattered across velvet.

And in the warm cocoon of the suite, with Daniel's weight settling beside me on the bed and his lips finding mine once more, the world narrowed to just us.

The night stretched long and tender, filled with discoveries both terrifying and sweet. Each touch felt like a question asked and answered. Each kiss erased another layer of uncertainty.