Page 103 of Obsessing Over His Favorite
Lavish. Expensive. Monochrome with soft lighting.
Her hand instinctively moved to her chest—and froze when she felt something stuck there. A piece of paper. She yanked it off quickly, her pulse picking up as she opened it.
‘Don’t go anywhere. Stay with me. I’ll be back soon.’
Her stomach dropped.
Her breath caught.
And then… flashes came rushing back.
A hand on her thigh. A suit jacket sliding off broad shoulders. Heat. Lips. Breathless moans. His scent. His voice.
Her body went still.
“Oh my God,” she whispered hoarsely.
Her hand flew to her mouth, her entire body frozen. Panic spiraled in her chest.
“Of all the people in the entire world…” she whispered, horrified. “You went and slept with your brother’s scary best friend?!”
Her gaze dropped to the note in her hand again, eyes roaming over the words.
The very next second, she slid out of bed in a rush, the sheet tangling around her legs as she nearly stumbled. She snatched the note from the bed and dropped it onto the nightstand with shaky fingers.
Still reeling, she threw on her clothes from the night before, tugging them on unevenly. She stumbled to the mirror and froze.
Her eyes locked on her reflection—then dropped lower. Her hands lifted to her chest and neck, fingers brushing over red, tender spots.
There were red marks.
She hesitated… then slowly lifted her top.
A soft gasp escaped her.
Her stomach. Her waist. Even the sides of her breasts. Faint red trails, hickeys, heat still lingered on her skin like a brand. Every place his mouth had touched still burned with the memory.
“Shit…!” she swallowed hard and adjusted her clothes to hide the marks.
She spun, nearly tripping over the rug as she darted to her phone on the nightstand. Grabbing it, she tapped on the screen to check the time and froze again.
A message from Lucas from last night stared back at her.
‘Emily, everything was my fault. Please, talk to me. Where are you? I want to see you right now.’
Her thumb hovered over the screen.
But the heat in her chest turned to cold steel.
Then she typed back with cold finality:
‘It’s none of your business anymore. You don’t have to apologize. There’s nothing left to fix. We’re already over.’
She hit send, then deleted his contact from her phone.
Just as she was about to put the phone down, something caught her eye. A new Instagram contact.
She tapped it—Sebastian Graves—and blinked. “When did I even…” she whispered, trailing off.
