Chapter 429

Olive, I miss you.

The current posture was precarious. Olive couldn't stand with both feet on the ground; her legs were wrapped around his slim waist. He kissed her fiercely, as if to devour her. Instinctively, Olive tightened her legs and clung to him. At that moment, Elvis felt his waist tightening. He broke the kiss, burying his handsome face in her long hair, and said in a deep voice, "Why so tight?"

Olive quickly placed her small hands on his shoulders, pushing him away. "Then put me down. Doesn't your arm hurt anymore?" She pinched his right arm. The muscles were strong, full of masculine strength, not at all like a disabled arm. "Elvis, you're not lying, are you? Have you been doing rehab? I think your right arm is fine!"

Elvis knew his lie was exposed. He'd been in intensive rehabilitation. Losing his right arm meant he might never hug her again. He'd worked relentlessly, and his recovery was excellent; his arm functioned like a normal one.

"You'll see how good my arm is," Elvis said, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. Olive was startled. He held her like a baby—a ninety-pound girl—and easily carried her into the room. Olive punched him. "What are you doing? Put me down!"

Elvis gently tossed her onto the soft bed. Olive's eyes widened. They argued again, but arguing in bed was dangerous. Olive grabbed the blanket, trying to escape. Elvis anticipated her move, pinching her ankles and pulling her under him.

"Elvis, what are you doing?" Olive struggled, her gaze fixed on her pink sandals. Elvis climbed onto the bed, pinning her, his recovered right arm beside her head, the other behind her back. "Let's do one-handed push-ups together."

One-handed push-ups? Olive blushed. "No. If you want to exercise, do it. I'll go."

"No. People say one-arm push-ups require a partner. I thought of you, and I always wanted a chance to practice with you."

"I won't..."

"Don't move, watch me." Elvis began his push-ups. Olive found him infuriating. His belt was loose, revealing most of his chest, his six-pack abs, and a perfect V-line. The V-line disappeared into his black underwear; Olive hadn't meant to look, but she saw them. The handsome, decent man was now extravagant, sexy, and... dangerously seductive. Olive's eyelashes trembled. She realized he'd kissed her during each push-up, ascending and descending. Her mind reeled. She finally understood his reason for suggesting a partner.

A smile touched her lips. He'd kissed her twice. Giggling, she covered her lips to stop him. Elvis stopped, cupped her face, and laughed hoarsely. "What's wrong? I can do a hundred push-ups without you. I wanted to practice with you, but I only managed a dozen before falling on top of you."

Olive's ears burned. If this continued, she might throw him off, but she still wasn't ready to commit. She thought, Olive, wake up! Don't be mesmerized by his masculinity!

"Let me go. You do your push-ups, I'll go downstairs." Elvis's short hair was almost dry. His bangs partially obscured his dark eyes, making him look younger, like a little wolf clinging to his girlfriend. A little wolf – that was the perfect description of Elvis.

"Olive, I don't want push-ups now, let's do a different exercise." Elvis chuckled, curling his lips.

Olive blinked. "What exercise?"

"Practice... the waist."

What? Olive was confused. She preferred yoga and didn't understand men's strength training. Elvis saw her innocent bewilderment. He kissed her hand, gesturing. "Train your waist like this."

Olive gasped. Had he just pressed his groin against her? Even she understood what he meant by "practice the waist." He wanted to use that method to train his waistline!

"Elvis, stop it. If you do it again, I won't forgive you!" Olive protested, pushing him away.

Elvis remained motionless, whispering hoarsely into her ear, "You really don't want to practice with me? I've been training my waist, and I want you to check my progress."

Who would check? It was suggestive. Olive struggled, like a bird trying to fly away. "Elvis, let me go. Grandma and Betty know I'm here. If I don't go down, they'll judge me."

Elvis frowned, realizing the drawbacks of living with his grandmother and Betty. It was always inconvenient due to Olive's shyness. In Los Angeles, he'd taken her to private villas or his study, where it was just the two of them. He pulled her skirt, patiently coaxing, "Ignore them. Olive, I miss you."