...
"...?" Yves King was taken aback, lowering his head to look at her. Her smooth, delicate face was flushed with a rosy glow, like someone drunk on wine. Her beautiful eyes were tightly closed, and her long eyelashes trembled continuously.
Was she feeling unwell? Yves touched her forehead, it felt a bit warm, but didn't seem like she had a fever. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her waist, furrowed his brows, and softly asked, "Faye, what's wrong? Do you feel uncomfortable somewhere?"
"Ugh..." Faye Owen's delicate body trembled again, her arms tightened around his waist instinctively, and she nervously pressed her face against him. Being ever so shy, she couldn't raise her head and couldn't help but curse Yves in her thoughts. What a jerk, a big jerk. He knew perfectly well what was going on, yet he was pretending otherwise and forcing her to take initiative. How could he?
