...
No way? Yves King felt as if he had been shot in the chest with a sniper rifle, the overwhelming impact nearly stopping his heart. His pupils constricted, his eyes were glazed and his breathing became irregular. How could this be? He had known Wendy Quay for many years, and even during times of close friendship and passionate vows, he had never seen her initiate a kiss.
Looking closely at the blushing Wendy, Yves King couldn't help but swallow, his mouth bitter with regret. If they were alone, he might have been overjoyed at her words.
But he wasn't alone; he was with his wife. She was in bed next to him. Yves King could only pray that Faye Owen hadn't heard Wendy's confession.
After Wendy spoke, it seemed that all of the courage she had mustered, was drained from her in an instant. Her body slumped against Yves' chest, eyes shut tight out of fear of looking at him, her breath shortened, cheek flushed, and her long eyelashes trembled incessantly.
