Page 4 of Forever His Favorite
Moments later, he returned with a small box of bandages and ointment. Setting them on the counter, he reached for her arm, carefully twisting it from side to side as his eyes searched for injuries, then moved to check her legs. A few scratches marred her skin, along with a faint handprint he had left on her wrist the night before.
The sight made his jaw tighten, a deeply upset look flashing across his face. Yet when he touched her again, his grip was as gentle as before. His fingers traced over the wound with aching care before he smoothed ointment across it. Finally, he put the band-aids on her wounds.
As he finished, Emily’s eyes darted away from his, avoiding his gaze as her fingers fidgeted in her lap.
He stood tall, his shadow falling over her as he stepped closer. His head dipped slowly, lips aiming for hers, his breath brushing her mouth. She stilled, sensing it—then just as their lips almost met, the sharp chime of the doorbell cut through the silence.
Emily jerked back instantly, escaping his kiss. She slipped off the counter in a hurry, her heart hammering.
“Stop kissing me all the time,” she muttered under her breath, her cheeks flushed as she brushed past him and darted toward the door.
“Emily! Come back here.” His hand shot out, nearly catching her wrist, but she was too fast, already disappearing down the hallway.
He froze in place, a smirk tugging at his lips. Tilting his head back, he let out a slow, unsteady breath, his eyes closing.
“How can I stop kissing you when you’re this fucking tempting, baby,” he murmured under his breath, his voice hoarse withrestraint. His length throbbed painfully in his trousers, aching with need.
He clenched his fists hard, nails digging into his palms as he forced himself to calm down. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, the effort it took to control himself written in the sharp tension of his jaw.
Meanwhile, Emily hurried downstairs, her bare feet barely touching the polished floor as she raced to the door. Her heart drummed against her ribs, partly from escaping Sebastian’s hold, partly from the sudden urgency of the bell. She yanked the door open.
Her eyes widened, shock flooding her face.
“Ha–Harold?” she stammered, staring in shock. “What are you doing here?”
But Harold didn’t answer.
Without asking permission, he stepped over the threshold, striding inside with a storm in his eyes. His steps were heavy, urgent, his face etched with panic.
Emily’s brows furrowed as she quickly followed him, confusion swirling in her chest. He stopped in the middle of the living room, spinning to face her.
She had barely reached his side when Harold suddenly seized her arms. He spun her from left to right, his eyes raking over her frantically. His face twisted with worry.
“Did my brother hurt you?” His voice cracked as he questioned.
Emily gasped, startled, staring at him with wide, bewildered eyes. “Harold, what are you talking about?”
But Harold didn’t listen. He grabbed her arm again, pulling her toward the couch with more force than he realized. She winced, a small sound of pain escaping her lips.
They both sank onto the couch. Harold turned sharply toward her, his expression full of concern. “Are you alright, Miss Emily? Is something wrong with you?”
Emily blinked, still disoriented by his sudden intrusion, and shook her head with a small shrug. “No… nothing is wrong,” she said quietly, her confusion lacing every word.
But Harold’s gaze didn’t stop. His eyes roamed restlessly—sweeping over her face, skimming down her neck, tracing her arms and legs.
Then his stare froze. His expression crumbled. His lips parted in horror as his eyes landed on the faint bruises, the ghost of a handprint, the fresh band-aids stark against her pale skin.
“My brother hurt you?!” His voice broke in disbelief, rising sharply. His eyes glistened as if tears were threatening. “How could he—how could he lay a hand on you?”
Emily parted her lips to protest, but Harold cut over her with raw emotion, his words tumbling out desperately.
“How could he hurt someone as gentle, as sweet, as beautiful as you? You’re like a fairy, a princess!” he choked out, his hands trembling as they clutched hers. “How could he bear to hurt someone like you?”
His voice cracked with sorrow, his whole body trembling. Harold lowered his head, nearly bowing over her hands as his grip tightened.
“Miss Emily… I’m so sorry!” he cried, his voice echoing through the living room walls, his pain shaking the air. “My brother is a monster!”
Emily winced at the sheer volume, her ears ringing. She quickly pulled her hands out of his grasp and caught his arms instead, shaking him roughly. “Harold! Stop crying. Sebastian didn’t hurt me!”
