Chapter 688 Olive, it hurts.

Elvis looked at her, his mind rapidly replaying old videos. She had even cut her own hair back then. She wasn't ugly at all; she was the most beautiful woman in his eyes. During two years of deep sleep, she had gradually recovered, her whole body reborn. Elvis ran a slender finger through her long hair. She stood before him, a gift from heaven, and he cherished her even more.

He lowered his eyes, his thin lips brushing her forehead in a soft kiss. Olive's heart skipped a beat. "Elvis, what are you doing? Is something wrong?"

"No…" He moved from her forehead to her hair, kissing it gently. Olive tried to pull away, but her back was against the wall. His breath enveloped her, leaving her slightly dazed. She knew he loved her long hair; the loss of it during her time in Visionary had been painful. Tears welled in her eyes. She struggled, "Elvis, let go. I'm done showering. You should shower too."

"Shower?" He looked down, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Why? Olive, what did you have in mind for tonight?"

Olive remained silent. She knew he understood. He was teasing her, his mind clearly on something else. Her face flushed crimson. She tiptoed, quickly kissing his lips. Before she could pull back, he captured the back of her head, turning the kiss forceful. Her body trembled.

Elvis noticed the change in her. Before today, he had believed her refusal to be intimate stemmed from dislike, resorting to drugs and alcohol to overcome her resistance. Now he knew better. The trauma of childbirth, the near-death experience, and her recent awakening had left her psychologically vulnerable. He regretted his past actions, the times he had hurt her.

"Olive," he whispered, "Don't be afraid. Leave it all to me. I love you."

Her eyelids trembled. She didn't fully understand.

He kissed her tenderly yet forcefully, his lips probing, inviting her to respond. His kiss was gentle, yet intense. She looked at him; he closed his eyes, his love and obsession evident. His words and his kiss softened her rigid posture, and she melted into his arms.

He smiled, hugging her close, "Olive, let's take a bath together."

Her face was bright red. "No need. You take a bath; I'll wait."

He chuckled, his gaze unreadable. "I said, let's take a bath together."

Her face shifted from red to white, her wet eyes shyly meeting his. Clara was still hidden in the closet, waiting for her to turn off the lights. But Elvis seemed to know; he wouldn't give her the opportunity.

He threaded his fingers through Olive's hair, stroking it gently. To an outsider, it looked intimate; Olive knew better. He'd placed a tiny monitor in her hair, nearly invisible, and whispered into it, "Olive, from now on, don't worry about anything. Just bathe with me." He pressed her against the wall.

Her pupils constricted. He knew everything. Before she could speak, he lifted her, the world spinning as he carried her into the bathroom.

He placed her under the shower. She wanted to escape, but his fingers pressed against her shoulder, holding her against the wall. He looked down, a fierce coldness in his eyes. "Untie my belt."

Olive kicked him. He winced, "Olive, it hurts!"

The arrogant, domineering Elvis, who wouldn't cry even when bleeding, cried out in pain. It was oddly charming.

She bit his shoulder, then tried to unfasten his belt, but fumbled. "Do it yourself," she said.

He looked at her, a newly bloomed rose, her delicate neck and slender bones igniting his desire. His eyes were slightly red. "You greedy little girl. If you're in such a hurry…" With a forceful tug, his belt was undone.

Late into the night, Clara remained hidden, waiting for her chance, but no one emerged from the bathroom.