The Forbidden Throb Chapter 91

Emma's POV:

The bus shelter near Old Port offered little protection from the rain.

I stood beneath its narrow overhang, watching fat droplets streak down the scratched plexiglass panels, my phone screen glowing in my palm.

*Almost there.*

Boston to Portland was at least a two-hour drive in good weather, longer in this rain.

My thumb froze over the keyboard as realization struck.

*That's why there was no text today. *

Because he'd been driving.

My chest tightened with something I couldn't quite name. I pressed my phone against my sternum, feeling my heartbeat accelerate beneath my palm.

I typed and deleted three different responses before settling on something neutral.

**Me**: *Okay. I'll be there in about fifteen minutes.*

The bus rumbled to a stop in front of me, its brakes hissing. I climbed aboard, swiping my card and making my way to an empty seat near the back.

Through the rain-streaked windows, Portland's brick buildings blurred into watercolor smudges of red and brown.

My phone buzzed again.

**Daniel**: *Take your time. I'm not going anywhere.*

*Not going anywhere.* Why did that simple phrase make my pulse race?

The bus lurched forward, and I gripped the seat in front of me, steadying myself.

I caught my reflection in the dark window.

My hair had frizzed slightly in the humidity, and there were shadows under my eyes from last night's restless sleep.

I dug through my bag for the small mirror I kept in the side pocket, checking my appearance in quick, furtive glances. Not terrible, but not exactly impressive either.

*Since when do you care what you look like for Daniel?*

The bus pulled to a stop two blocks from the hotel. I pressed the yellow strip, the bell dinging overhead, and made my way to the exit.

I smoothed down my dress, adjusted the strap of my bag, took a deep breath.

He was standing beneath the awning, tall and perfectly composed in a charcoal wool coat, a black umbrella held loosely in one hand while he checked his phone with the other.

Even from half a block away, even in the rain and fading light, he looked like something out of a magazine—elegant, expensive.

I slowed my pace, my heart suddenly in my throat.

Daniel must have sensed my approach because he looked up, his gaze finding me instantly across the distance. I could see the way his expression shifted—from neutral professionalism to something softer, warmer.

He moved toward me immediately, closing his umbrella and holding it out to shield me from the rain, letting his own shoulder get wet in the process.

"You've been waiting long?" I asked, my voice coming out slightly breathless.

"Just got here," he said, his tone casual.

Up close, I could see the faint shadows under his eyes, the slight tension in his jaw. He looked tired—the kind of exhaustion that came from long hours and longer drives.

"If you have something urgent to handle," I said carefully, "you can take care of it first."

One dark eyebrow rose slightly, but his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Are you trying to send me away?"

There was something in his expression—a flicker of hurt so brief and subtle. Like I'd said something that had landed harder than I'd intended.

My heart lurched.

"No! No, of course not," I said quickly, reaching out instinctively. My hand caught his sleeve, the wool soft and expensive under my fingers. "I just think you must have something to do here—"

I stopped, took a breath.

"You can stay here if you want," I said, the words rushing out. "My room's actually pretty big. I mean, it's huge, really. There's a living area and everything, so—"

*Oh God, stop talking.*

*You're babbling.*

But Daniel's expression had already shifted, the tension in his jaw easing. One corner of his mouth lifted—not quite a smile, but close.

"Is that an invitation, Mrs. Prescott?"

The way he said it—low and warm, with just a hint of amusement—made my face burn.

"I'm just saying," I managed, "you look tired."

His eyes held mine for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in their depths.

"Alright," he said finally. "Show me this huge room of yours."

---

The elevator was mercifully empty when we stepped inside.

I pressed the button for the fifth floor, acutely aware of Daniel standing beside me.

"It's really nice," I continued anyway, unable to stop myself. "There's a sitting room with these huge windows that look out over the harbor, and two bedrooms."

The elevator dinged, doors sliding open.

Daniel followed me down the hallway, his footsteps quiet on the patterned carpet. I fumbled with the keycard, swiping it twice before the lock finally clicked green.

Daniel moved to the windows, hands in his coat pockets, taking in the view with that quiet, assessing way he had.

"It's beautiful," he said.

"Right?" I set his bag down by the sofa, suddenly nervous again. "And the bedrooms are through here—"

I led him past the sitting area to the two doors on the opposite wall. One stood slightly ajar, revealing my unmade bed and the scattered remnants of this morning's rushed departure—a cardigan draped over a chair, research notes spread across the desk.

*Oh God, my cartoon pajamas are probably on the floor.*

Heat flooded my face.

"You can take the master," I said quickly, gesturing to the closed door on the right. "It's bigger, and the bed's more comfortable, probably, and—"

"Emma."