Philip's POV
I should stop eavesdropping on Karl and Sally upstairs. Really, I should.
They're keeping their voices low, probably trying not to disturb Warren's sleep, but my enhanced hearing picks up every whispered word. I force myself to concentrate on scrubbing the dinner plates, letting the clatter of silverware against porcelain drown out their conversation.
Except my self-control is apparently nonexistent, because I'm straining so hard to catch their words that my temples are starting to throb.
When Karl tells her he wants to kiss her, I actually cringe. Damn fool. He's moving too quickly, applying pressure when she's barely started to trust us again. All the ground we've gained with her tonight is about to crumble.
Then everything goes silent. Too silent.
Are they actually kissing?
