Page 8 of Obsessing Over His Favorite
He stretched out on the bed, hands behind his head, eyes closing with a quiet mutter, “Suit yourself.”
Thunder roared louder, the sky flashing blue with every crack of lightning.
Emily leaned against the window, her back to it, turning her face to watch the rain fall in the dark night.
She stayed there a long time, listening to the silence that filled the room.
After a while, she turned her face back toward the bed.
Lucas was still lying in the same position—hands behind his head, silent, eyes closed, expression blank.
‘I guess he’s asleep now,’ she thought, studying his calm face as his chest rose and fell steadily with each breath.
Carefully, she took quiet, cautious steps toward the bed, moving to the other side with barely a sound. She gently lifted the blanket, sliding in.
But she shifted all the way to the edge, pressing her back against the mattress, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. Just as she closed her eyes, an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back.
She gasped, heart pounding, feeling the hard, muscled weight of his chest pressing against her back. His breath was rough, ragged, warm against her neck. His head dipped to her neck, pressing softly into her nape.
She heard the quiet rhythm of his breathing but no words.
Frozen, she went stiff as a board.
‘He’s my boyfriend. I can’t make him suspicious,’ she told herself, lying still and not moving away. She couldn’t push his arm off, so she stayed quiet, like a statue.
After a while, the breathing against her neck slowed and softened. The arm around her waist loosened and slackened.
She stayed silent for a few moments more to make sure he had truly fallen asleep. Then, quietly, she slid her hand under the blanket, gently took his hand off her waist, and shifted back toward the bed’s edge, as far away from him as she could get. She closed her eyes, and finally, sleep took her.
***
Emily’s rest was broken when she felt a shift in the bed. Her eyes fluttered open, and she saw Lucas lying there, phone in hand. He noticed her awake and slid his phone away, his gaze locking onto her for a long moment.
She didn’t move.
A flicker of annoyance passed through his eyes as he placed the phone on the nightstand and slid out of bed. His eyes kept drifting to her, as if waiting for something, but she remained still, yawning and rolling onto her back, stretching.
Lucas’s voice taunted, gentle yet cold.
“How was the show you put on last night?”
His eyes burned into hers. “Every time there’s thunder, you cling to me like I’m the only thing keeping you alive. Then the next morning, you won’t let me leave the bed because you want more time with me. But last night, you jumped as far away as possible, pretending to be all indifferent and cold?”
She grabbed her phone from the dresser without looking at him. Her old phone had been destroyed in the accident, but Dillon had dropped off a new one for her, saying all her data was transferred.
Seeing that he even bothered to get her a phone—despite how much he clearly disliked her—was unexpected.
“Why would I try to keep you to myself?” she muttered, voice dry. “You’re not some priceless treasure.”
Lucas scoffed, his eyes blazing with anger. He grabbed a T-shirt from the nearby chair and tugged it on in one swift motion.
“Fine,” he snapped, voice calm but sharp. “I’ll see how long you can stay away from me this time.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and marched out of the bedroom.
Emily twisted her face in distaste. ‘What a narcissist.’ She shook her head. ‘Why would I be dying to hold onto him? Is he that precious? Hah!’
She got up, headed to the bathroom to freshen up, and took a long bath.
