The Forbidden Throb Chapter 144

Emma's POV:

I woke to the gentle hum of engines and the peculiar stillness that only existed at thirty thousand feet.

For a disoriented moment, I couldn't remember where I was—then it all came rushing back. The private jet. Daniel settled beside me. The reason we were on this flight instead of the commercial one with Sarah and the rest of the team.

Heat flooded my cheeks as I buried my face deeper into the pillow, trying to block out the mortifying memory of this morning.

*I'd missed the flight.*

Not because of traffic, or an alarm malfunction, or any reasonable excuse. No—I'd missed it because I physically could not get out of bed.

My legs had felt like jelly, my entire body aching in ways that made walking to the bathroom an embarrassing ordeal. And Daniel, damn him, had watched me struggle with that infuriatingly gentle expression, offering to carry me before calmly informing me he'd already arranged alternative transportation.

As if it were the most natural thing in the world to charter a private jet, because last night had been so intense that his wife could barely walk the next morning.

I'd wanted to die of embarrassment right there.

I could see Daniel silhouetted against the window, his profile sharp and perfect in the early morning light. He'd changed into dark slacks and a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows in that way that shouldn't be as attractive as it was.

His tablet was balanced on one knee, fingers moving across the screen with the same precise efficiency he brought to everything.

Boston's skyline was visible beyond him, growing closer. We'd be landing soon.

"Good morning," he said quietly, setting aside the tablet. "How are you feeling?"

*Sore. Embarrassed. *

"Fine," I managed, my voice still rough with sleep. I pulled the blanket higher, suddenly self-conscious. "What time is it?"

"Just past ten. We'll be landing in about forty minutes." He stood, moving toward me with that unhurried grace. "There's breakfast if you're hungry. And before you say you're not—" His lips curved slightly. "—you need to eat something."

He knew me too well already. I'd been about to claim I wasn't hungry.

But Daniel was already opening a small cabinet, revealing a tray of fresh fruit, yogurt, and what looked like a perfectly golden croissant still steaming slightly.

"Finish your breakfast," he murmured against my hair. "We'll be home soon."

I ate mechanically, letting him feed me between kisses to my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth.

The plane began its descent, and through the window I could see Beacon Hill taking shape below us—elegant brownstones and tree-lined streets that looked almost quaint from this height.

By the time we landed, Daniel's driver, Charles, was waiting on the tarmac with the familiar black Audi, his expression professionally neutral.

When we pulled up to the Victorian townhouse, I felt a complicated tangle of emotions.

Inside, the house was exactly as we'd left it—warm and elegant. Daniel helped me upstairs, and it wasn't until I was standing in the hallway that I realized I'd automatically turned toward the guest room I'd been using. Daniel's hand on my lower back stopped me.

"Where are you going?"

I gestured vaguely toward the guest room. "To rest?"

"Emma." There was laughter in his voice. "After everything, you're really going to sleep in the guest room?"

Heat flooded my face. "I just thought—I mean, we haven't really discussed—"

He turned me gently, walking me backward until we reached the master bedroom. "This is your room too," he said firmly. "Has been since we got married. I just didn't want to pressure you."

The master bedroom was warm and spacious, elegantly appointed with a four-poster bed draped in deep blue velvet and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Beacon Hill.

But as I stepped inside, I noticed something strange.

My favorite books were stacked on the nightstand. The framed photo from my room sat in a silver frame on the dresser. My skincare products were arranged neatly in the en-suite bathroom, visible through the open door.

And on the bed, propped carefully against the pillows, were two small figures that made my throat tight.

My gray-blue dolphin, the one Grandma had made for me years ago, wearing its red and white striped sweater and tiny Christmas hat. Next to it sat a matching gray seal I'd never seen before—equally well-crafted, with the same careful stitching and gentle expression.

"You moved my things," I said softly, walking toward the bed."When?"

"While we were in Paris," Daniel admitted from behind me. "I asked Mrs. Brown to bring everything from the guest room. And I—" He paused, and I could hear the slight embarrassment in his voice. "I thought your dolphin might like some company. "

"You bought a friend for my dolphin," I whispered, my voice catching.

"He looked lonely." Daniel's arms came around me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder. "And I thought, when you're at school or working late, at least he'd have company."

I turned in his arms, not bothering to hide the tears streaming down my face. "I love you."

He kissed me, and his lips were gentle and reverent. When he pulled back, his eyes were bright.

"I love you too," he said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. "So much, baby. So much."

---

The next few days passed in a haze of domesticity that felt almost surreal.

But reality had a way of intruding, and by Thursday afternoon, I couldn't put it off any longer.

"I need to go back to campus tomorrow," I said over dinner, watching Daniel's face carefully. "There's a group session for the Paris project debrief at two."

He set down his fork, expression neutral. "Of course. What time?"

"Two. But—" I hesitated, pushing food around my plate. "Professor Laurent asked if I could stay on campus for the next few days. She's arranged temporary housing for me in the graduate student apartments. There's a lot of follow-up work from Paris, and she might need to meet on short notice."

Daniel went very still. "I see."

"Emma." He reached across the table, taking my hand. "It's fine. You should focus on your work. Get everything done properly." His thumb traced gentle circles on my palm. "I'll pick you up, Friday afternoon. "

*Friday.* Five days from now.

For the first time in my entire life, I felt a wave of pure, unadulterated academic aversion wash over me.

*I don't want to go.*