The Forbidden Throb Chapter 164

Emma's POV:

My neck itched.

The moment Blake's words hung in the air—*Are there still mosquitoes this time of year?*—I felt my skin prickle beneath the cashmere collar.

Not from actual irritation, but from the sudden, panicked awareness that the concealer might be failing.

"I—" I touched my throat instinctively, then caught myself. "Maybe I'm just sensitive to something. Dry air, probably."

My face was burning now, and I knew the flush spreading across my cheeks was probably telling Blake everything he needed to know.

He didn't push.

"Well, you should probably put something on it," he said, already taking a step back. "The heating in these old buildings can really dry out your skin. Anyway, I should get going—good luck with the registration chaos."

He offered me an easy out, and I took it gratefully.

"Thanks, Blake. "

I watched him disappear into the crowd, then immediately pivoted toward the nearest restroom, my heart hammering against my ribs.

---

The fluorescent lights in the bathroom were merciless.

I locked myself in the stall and tilted my head back to examine my reflection in the small compact mirror I'd grabbed from my bag. The high neckline had shifted slightly during all the bending and reaching at the registration table, and there, just visible above the cream fabric, was a faint shadow of red.

*Oh God.*

My fingers trembled as I pulled the collar higher, checking the coverage from multiple angles.

I pressed my palm against my forehead, trying to steady my breathing.

Last night flooded back in fragments: Daniel's mouth on my skin, deliberate and unhurried. The way he'd traced a path along my collarbone, then lower, his breath warm against my throat.

How he'd paused there, right at that spot, and murmured something I couldn't quite remember now—something that had made me shiver and arch into him.

And then the cool metal edge of his wedding band, grazing my skin as his hand slid up my neck...

*Stop.*

I shook my head sharply, banishing the memory before it could pull me under completely. This was not the time. I was in a public bathroom at a university event, for God's sake, and I had a job to do.

I dug through my bag for the small tube of concealer I'd brought as backup and carefully reapplied it, blending the edges until the mark disappeared entirely.

Then I tugged the collar of my sweater as high as it would go and checked again.

Covered. Completely.

I exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the sink.

Those marks were *his*. Daniel's.

I pressed my lips together to suppress a smile and forced myself to leave the bathroom.

---

By the time I returned to the registration table, Blake was long gone, and Olivia had taken over his spot, flipping through the pre-registration list with practiced efficiency.

She glanced up as I approached, one eyebrow arched. "Took you long enough. I was starting to think you'd bailed on me."

"Just needed a minute." I slid back into my seat, grateful for the distraction of work.

"Uh-huh." Olivia's gaze sharpened, and I could feel her studying me. "You okay? You look a little flushed."

"I'm fine," I said quickly. Too quickly.

She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Emma."

"What?"

Her eyes dropped to my neck, then back to my face, and a slow, knowing grin spread across her lips. "Oh my *God*."

My stomach dropped. "What?"

"You—" She bit back a laugh, clearly delighted. "You have *got* to be kidding me."

"I don't know what you're talking about." I pulled my collar higher, even though it was already as high as it could go.

Olivia gave me a long look, then sighed. "Alright. But seriously, Emma—next time, maybe invest in some better concealer. "

I groaned and buried my face in my hands.

---

The next thirty minutes were absolute chaos—checking names, handing out tickets, directing people to overflow rooms.

Then a ripple of excitement moved through the crowd near the entrance, voices rising in pitch and volume.

"Oh my God!" Olivia grabbed my shoulder, practically bouncing in her seat. "Emma! He's here! Look—turn around, *now*!"

My stomach dropped.

Slowly—so slowly it felt like moving through water—I turned in my seat.

And there he was.

Daniel stood in the doorway at the back of the lecture hall, framed by the late afternoon light streaming in from the corridor.

He was wearing a deep navy three-piece suit, with a crisp white shirt and a silver-gray silk tie knotted in a perfect Windsor.

He looked like he'd stepped out of a magazine.

No—he looked like he *owned* the magazine.

He moved with the kind of effortless grace that came from years of surgical precision, each step measured and deliberate as he made his way down the center aisle toward the front row reserved for speakers.

The overhead lights caught the edge of his titanium-framed glasses, casting a faint gleam that only added to the cool, untouchable aura he projected.

I couldn't look away.

I'd forgotten just how *magnetic* he was in public. How the version of him that existed outside our private world was so polished, so controlled, that it was almost hard to reconcile him with the man who'd held me in his arms just days ago.

The man who'd whispered *I love you* against my skin.

The man who'd made me cry and then kissed away every tear.

*I want to run up to him right now and throw my arms around him.*

The thought hit me out of nowhere, sharp and visceral, and I had to grip the edge of the table to keep myself grounded.

*We haven't even been apart for half a day.*

But it felt like forever.

"Holy shit," Olivia murmured beside me, her voice tinged with awe. "Those videos don't do him justice. Not even close."

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look away. "He's... yeah."