Deep-Seated Trauma
Anastasia wanted to cry out in exasperation, for she should have known better than to trust this man.
“Elliot, I swear, if you think you can—”
However, before she could say the words ‘get away with it’, Elliot inched forward and kissed her.
He intended to get away with this, and it looked like he was succeeding. After all, he couldn’t help
himself when it came to Anastasia; it was as if she was his fatal attraction, her presence probing and
enticing him like a siren’s call.
Anastasia struggled against him for a few seconds, but it was all for show since she knew there was no
escaping the man on top of her. In the end, she succumbed to his kisses, the hunger in her awakening
with the way he nibbled and tugged on her lips.
However, there was a voice in the back of her head, albeit a muffled one, that nagged at her and made
her keep her guard up. She wasn’t so much worried about someone walking in on them as she was
about losing herself to Elliot and his deadly charisma.
She still wasn’t ready to bring their intimacy to the next level, and while the kiss was sweet and
lingering, she couldn’t help sensing the danger in it as well. The air that crackled around them as their
tension built reminded her of a brewing storm, and any time now, a hurricane would hit them and wreak
havoc.
However, with the direction this very intimate kiss was taking, she wasn’t sure how she could keep the
floodgates closed any longer, not when the water was already bursting to come through.
Everything about Elliot—his breath, his warmth, and his testosterone-driven urgency—was shrouding
her like a veil. The voice of reason in her mind was being constantly drowned out by her own desire,
and for a moment, it was like reality had melted away into the background.
She was on the verge of surrendering to nature and primal instincts at this point.
Just then, Elliot whispered huskily, “I want you, Anastasia…”
This sent an electric current through her veins, and she shuddered as she willed herself to push him
away. “Elliot, no…”
The next second, however, he picked her up from the couch without warning and carried her over to
the master bedroom.
She was so stunned that her mind drew a blank. The dimness of the bedroom became something like a
dark space for Elliot to act on his heightened senses. He wanted nothing more than to lay her down
and please her in ways she could never imagine.
Anastasia’s thoughts were hazy, and her insides were coiled up with mixed feelings she couldn’t quite
decipher. When she tried to push Elliot away, he clasped her wrists and pinned her hands above her
head, which prompted indescribable fear to course through her all of a sudden.
“No… Don’t touch me… Go away!”
Panic seized her. It was as if her mind did not perceive the man kissing her to be Elliot, but that
sc*mbag from five years ago. His strong arms, his towering build, and his domineering, unforgiving air
struck a heavy resemblance to the gigolo from Abyss Club.
“Anastasia, what’s wrong?” Upon sensing that something was off with her, Elliot stopped and reached
out to hold her.
Unexpectedly, she struggled violently to get away from him as she cried, “Go away! Don’t touch me!”
It was like he had become the source of her fear. Bewildered, he quickly got off the bed, strode over to
the door, and turned on the lights in the room.
When he saw the girl curled into a ball on the bed with her eyes tightly closed while her body trembled
with insurmountable fear and hurt, he felt his heart drop to his stomach. He hated himself for having
pushed her too far.
He suddenly remembered the horrific ordeal she had been through. Whatever they had been doing just
now—or rather, whatever he had been doing to her—had clearly brought her deep-seated trauma to
the surface.
“Anastasia, it’s me,” Elliot murmured as he perched on the edge of the bed, keeping a safe distance as
he reached out to stroke her hair gently. It made it seem like he was coaxing a wounded animal.
It was only then that she opened her misty eyes, and she suddenly became aware of how she had
overreacted. She flipped onto her side, looking flustered as she mumbled, “I’m sorry for scaring you.”
There was no hiding the guilt in his voice as he said, “No, I should be the one to say sorry.”
She sat up slowly and buried her face in her hands. “I… I think you should go home.”
He couldn’t possibly leave her alone in this state. He implored softly, “Let me stay here and take care of
you for the night. I promise that’s all I’ll do.”
“I don’t need you to take care of me,” she muttered weakly as she shook her head, though her face
was devoid of color.
At the sight of how frightened she looked, he was seized with the urge to find out who was the b*stard
that dared hurt her five years ago. If he managed to track him down, he would make him pay in blood.
“Can you tell me more about what happened that night?” Elliot asked. He wanted to help her get
through this, and he didn’t want her to have to shoulder this alone while suppressing the trauma and
letting it fester in her.
Anastasia gazed up at the man in front of the bed. The trauma and the bad memories had hollowed her
out, and she felt like a shell of herself. When he let go of her, she nudged him like a scared kitten
seeking comfort.
Elliot refrained from holding her too tightly, and he kept his movements slow as he leaned forward to
kiss her on the top of her head. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”
She closed her eyes tiredly. At the end of the day, she couldn’t bring herself to word out the horrific
things she had been through.
Finally, she released his arm, and her gaze was calm once more as she said, “You can go home now.
I’ll be fine on my own.”
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