Page 62 of Obsessing Over His Favorite

Emily gawked at him, speechless.

He was provoking Lucas. And it was working.

She frantically shook her head at Jacob, silently pleading with him to stop, but he was enjoying himself far too much. He moved closer and reached for her waist, making it worse.

“Don’t go back to the man who threw you away, Emily. That’s not love,” Jacob said softly. “Come by tomorrow morning. You need something good for your mental health.”

Then, with a lighter, almost teasing tone, he added, “Once you’ve clearly broken up with him, we can finally talk aboutus.”

Lucas’s face turned a deep shade of crimson, so furious it looked like he might rip Jacob apart.

“Jacob—what the hell are you—” she began, but Jacob just waved her off with a grin and strolled to his car like he hadn’t just tossed a lit match into gasoline.

The next second, Lucas moved.

His glare was volcanic, barely held back. Emily didn’t have time to blink before she was suddenly lifted off her feet.

“Lucas!” she shrieked as he threw her over his shoulder and stormed toward his car.

“Put me down! You’re insane!”

He didn’t answer. His jaw was locked, footsteps heavy with fury.

Once they reached the car, he dropped her back onto her feet—but before she could run, he slammed her back against the vehicle, pinning her with his body. One hand gripped her wrist; the other wrapped tightly around her waist. His face hovered inches from hers, breathing ragged and eyes ablaze with possession.

His voice was cold, lethal. “What the fuck was that bastard talking about?”

She stared up at him, her heart racing, her chest rising and falling with panic.

The way he looked at her—possessive, furious,desperate—it was like he was ready to burn the whole world just to keep her from slipping away.

“What the fuck was that bastard talking about?” Lucas growled, his voice barely more than a breath, but thick with rage.

She tried to pull away, to run, but a frustrated growl escaped his throat.

His hand snatched her arm. The car door flung open. And in seconds, Emily found herself pulled into the backseat—dragged straight onto his lap. One of his hands held her wrist in a tight grip, while the other curled around the back of her neck, forcing her face inches from his.

“Emily,” he said, his voice low, lethal, and terrifyingly calm, “I’m asking you one last time.”

She stilled.

This wasn’t his usual temper. This was a man who had lost it.

“What the hell was Jacob talking about?” he hissed. “Is he your new boyfriend? What the hell is going on between you two?”

“There’s nothing between Jacob and me,” she spat back, squirming in his lap and trying to pull herself out of his grasp. “Let me go!”

But he didn’t.

He leaned in closer, so close she could feel his breath trail against her cheek as his lips brushed her ear.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, every word seething, dangerous. “Don’t you ever forget that. I don’t care what anyone thinks, or whatyouthink. There’s no fucking chance you’re getting out of my bed, Emily.”

She froze. A flicker of fear surfaced in her chest

He pulled back slightly. Then came the cold, sharp command to the driver: “Drive.”

The driver started the car immediately, and they rolled back onto the city streets.