Chapter 418

Olive, love me! He… What is he talking about? What does it mean that she doesn’t want to be responsible for him? Does that mean she doesn't want to reveal their relationship publicly? Does he want her to take responsibility? Does he want to reveal their relationship? Olive blinked her slender eyelids, looking at him in amazement. "You… what do you mean?"

Elvis condescendingly pinned her beneath him, lowering his handsome face to hers. "Olive, you're very smart around others, why not here? You've become…stupid. No, you're pretending to be stupid. What I want is simple. You borrowed my bed, so you should give me an identity!"

If his previous words had confused her, these were direct and domineering. Olive’s head spun. She hadn't expected that after sleeping with the prestigious CEO of the Augustine corporation, he would pamper her, go to great lengths to prove their liaison to the world, and now demand an identity! Olive’s slender eyelids fluttered like butterfly wings. Their faces were so close, his breath on her delicate skin. She looked at him, astonished. "You… what identity do you want?"

"What do you think? What identity can you give me?" Elvis countered, glancing at her bright red lips, two red sparks igniting in his deep eyes. "Did you feel good that night?"

He lowered his voice, asking directly. Olive’s pupils widened. Why this question? How should she answer? His warm, magnetic voice enveloped her. He wore a seductive look. Olive felt her eardrums ring; her ears tingled. What did he want? She considered a possibility: was he seducing her?

"L…L…How about you?" Olive desperately twisted her neck, asking him. Elvis's supporting arm tightened, his thin lips descending to her bright red lips in a light kiss. "It's great… so, I think we need to…sublimate this relationship."

Olive’s mind was a whirlwind. She felt manipulated. He was still caressing her lips, as if about to kiss her again. Her already soft body grew even softer. "Why…how to sublimate?" she asked, stunned.

"Look, we both have public profiles now; every move attracts attention. We don't want a scandal in the future. If we don't want to get pregnant, it will be entertainment news. I think we should legalize our… sleeping arrangements. How about…a boyfriend?"

Boyfriend? Everything he said was true, but…why sleep together and avoid pregnancy? Why legalize it by sleeping together? Olive felt she had seen through Elvis’s true nature. He was a manipulator, a master of mind control.

"No!" Olive refused.

Elvis raised his handsome eyelids, staring at her with deep black eyes. "So you really don't want me to be your boyfriend? You really don't want to…love me?"

Olive closed her eyes, barely resisting his advances. "Elvis, why do you suddenly want to love me? Don't you always consider me frivolous, scheming, and flirtatious? A bad girl? Besides, I've been married. Last time you said you wouldn't marry someone else's wife. Why the change?"

Elvis realized he had misjudged her. It wasn’t until her identity as Professor Hart was revealed that he saw his error. Everyone at Imperial knew 'X'. No one imagined 'X' was a girl around twenty. Four or five years ago, she was fifteen or sixteen, a brilliant medical prodigy. Once this prejudice vanished, Elvis truly understood her. The girl beneath him was smart, brave, and calm; a sheathless sword, cold and sharp, yet also a shining jewel, a rose, exuding girlish charm, soft and fragrant. She possessed many facets, many mysteries, captivating his attention, making his heart race uncontrollably.

He’d been annoyed countless times by his attraction to this "mean girl." In fact, his taste wasn't bad; it was excellent. He’d chosen her instantly from the crowd. About her marriage… Elvis reached out, running slender fingers through her hair, kissing her red lips ferociously.

Olive pressed her small hands to his chest, trying to push him away, but his tall, handsome body remained immovable, as solid as a wall. Gradually, she felt a lack of oxygen, the man's kisses so intense they stole her breath. Olive's slender fingers weakened, curling, grasping his shirt; the expensive fabric wrinkling.

Elvis, at first, kept his eyes open, enjoying watching her struggle. He narrowed his eyes, noting her flushed cheeks, her clear, bright pupils blurring…The body’s reaction didn’t lie, neither his nor hers. Elvis closed his eyes, kissing more passionately, his hands under the silk blanket, resting on her slender legs. She wasn't wearing pants. The thought ignited him. He lifted her legs, allowing her to wrap around his waist. Olive's head hit the headboard.

A hiss escaped her lips. Olive frowned and snorted. The kiss broke off. Elvis hastily raised his hand to her head, gently rubbing it. He buried his face in her hair, panting. His hoarse, masculine voice apologized: "Olive, I'm sorry."

Olive stared into his eyes. She closed her eyes and touched his suit, realizing he'd gone to bed fully clothed.