Being this close to Rafe certainly is like standing near an incinerator. Being this close means I also notice what appears to be bruising around his jaw. “Did you get into a fight?” “It’s nothing.” It’s not nothing, but before I can continue in my line of questioning, he continues. “I’d love to hear your thoughts,” he says, and if that statement weren’t enough to distract me from the bruise he doesn’t want to talk about, his breath warm on my cheek does the trick.
