The Forbidden Throb Chapter 138

Emma's POV:

The suggestion hung in the air between us, weighted with possibility. My face burned hot enough to combust.

Before I could figure out how to respond, Daniel continued.

"I think we need to get you into better shape."

I blinked, the heat in my face intensifying for entirely different reasons. "My... what?"

He stood, crossing to the bed in three smooth strides. His hand reached out, fingers curling gently around my waist—assessing, professional.

"Your stamina needs work, baby." 

*Oh no.*

My brain, which had been spinning in entirely inappropriate directions, screeched to a halt.

"You mean—" The words tumbled out before I could stop them. "You're talking about exercise?"

The moment the question left my mouth, I wanted to take it back. Swallow it. Pretend I'd never said anything.

Daniel's hand stilled on my waist. He tilted his head slightly, and when he spoke, his voice was perfectly innocent. "What else would I be talking about?"

Shit.

"Nothing!" I said too quickly. "I just wanted to clarify. Because obviously you meant exercise. Running. Cardio." I was babbling now, words spilling out in a desperate attempt to cover my tracks. "That's exactly what I thought you meant. The whole time."

"The whole time," he repeated slowly, and there was definitely amusement threading through his voice now. "Though you did look a bit flushed for a conversation about treadmills."

"I'm always flushed after eating hot soup," I said with as much dignity as I could muster. "It's a circulation thing."

His mouth curved into that smile—the one that said he saw right through me and was thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Of course," he said. "Circulation."

When I risked a glance up, there was something dancing in his eyes. Something that looked suspiciously like amusement.

He knows.

He absolutely knows what I was thinking.

I made a sound somewhere between a squeak and a groan and pulled the blanket over my head.

His laugh—low and genuinely delighted—made everything so much worse.

"When we get back to Boston," he continued, voice calm and matter-of-fact, "I'm taking you running. Early mornings, before I head to the hospital."

I yanked the blanket down so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash.

*Running.*

*Early mornings.*

In college, I'd hated exactly two things, ranked in order of increasing dread: 8 a.m. classes, and anything involving physical fitness requirements.

The PE credit system at BU had been my personal nightmare. Forty gym check-ins per semester. Plus that godforsaken one-mile run test.

And now Daniel wanted me to do this *voluntarily*?

"Does it *have* to be running?" My voice came out slightly whiny, and I didn't even care. "Can't we... I don't know... not?"

He raised an eyebrow.

I tried again, switching tactics. Sat up straighter, clasped my hands together in front of me like I was praying. "If we *have* to run—and I'm not saying we do—can we at least wait until spring? "

I looked up at him through my lashes, going for pitiful. "Boston in December is *freezing*, Daniel. "

Daniel caught my clasped hands in his, and I felt a spark of hope.

Then he laughed and used his free hand to gently squeeze my cheek.

"What are you thinking?" His voice was fond, amused. "I'm not making you run outside in the snow. "

Oh.

"But if you really hate running that much..." He paused, considering. "Tennis works. Or swimming. Your choice."

I blinked up at him. "I don't... I don't know how to do either of those."

The admission came out smaller than I'd intended.

His expression shifted—surprise, maybe. "Neither?"

I shook my head, feeling my face heat for entirely different reasons now. "I'm not... I've never been good at sports. I learned everything I know in regular gym class, and I wasn't exactly..." I searched for a diplomatic word. "...gifted."

***

*Boston University. Fall semester of my sophomore year.*

*The Fitness & Recreation Center loomed before me like a temple of judgment, all glass walls and aggressively motivational posters.*

*"I hate this," Olivia muttered beside me, staring at the card reader like it had personally offended her.*

*"Same." I swiped my ID. The machine beeped cheerfully, marking one more check-in toward the forty we needed to complete the semester.*

*PE credits. The bane of every Netflix-and-chill type student's existence.*

*We trudged inside, past rows of treadmills occupied by people who looked like they actually enjoyed sweating. Found the quietest yoga class we could. Spent most of it on our mats, phones hidden under our towels, scrolling through Instagram.*

*The one-mile run test was worse.*

*I'd stumbled across the finish line gasping like a fish out of water, while Olivia laughed and said I looked "like a deer being chased by a very slow predator."*

*We'd sworn, that day, that once we graduated, we would never voluntarily enter a gym again.*

***

Daniel went very still. Then he shifted closer, pulling me into the circle of his arms.

"Then I'll teach you."

It wasn't a question. Just a statement of fact, delivered in that calm, certain way he had.

"We'll start with tennis this winter," he continued. "Indoor courts. Heated. By the time summer comes, we'll move to swimming."

My throat went tight. God, he was really planning this out.

Something warm and overwhelming bloomed in my chest. I buried my face against his shoulder. "You are too patient with me."

This man. This impossibly patient, impossibly thoughtful man who—

"Though I should clarify something."

I lifted my head slightly. "What?"

His hand moved from my hair to cup my face.

"I'm a doctor," he said carefully. "When we're... together, I can monitor your condition. I know when you're fine, even when you—" He paused, choosing his words. "Even when you lose consciousness in bed for a moment."

Oh God.

My face went hot.

"But," he continued, and now there was definitely amusement in his voice, "I'd prefer if my wife didn't pass out quite so frequently. It would be better for both of us if you had a bit more... endurance."

I stared at him.

That's what this is about?

All that talk about tennis and swimming and caring about my health, and he'd been thinking about—

"You—" I sputtered, pushing against his chest. He didn't budge. "That's why you want me to exercise?"

"It's one reason." He had the audacity to look completely reasonable. "A very good reason, I think."

My entire face was on fire now. I shoved at him again, harder, but it was like pushing against a wall.

"It's not my problem!" The words burst out before I could stop them. "You—you're completely different!"

He tilted his head. "Different?"

"In bed!" I blurted, then immediately wanted to die. But I'd already started, so I pushed forward. "You're like... like two completely different people. During the day you're all—" I gestured helplessly at him. "—calm and controlled and reasonable. But last night you were—"

I cut myself off, face burning hotter than the surface of the sun.

Daniel's expression had shifted to something unreadable. "I was what?"

"You know what," I mumbled, looking anywhere but at him. "You wouldn't stop. You kept—" My voice dropped to barely a whisper. "You kept pushing and asking for more and I could barely breathe and you just—"

The memories were flooding back now. His hands. His voice. The way he'd coaxed and commanded and praised until I'd been nothing but sensation and need.

"—you weren't gentle at all," I finished weakly.