Shea’s jerky breaths puffed across the inside of my wrist. My thumb ran upward along the line of his jaw, smoothing over his skin and his uneven patches of stubble. Our eyes found each other. He breathed in, short and sharp. “So, what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” I asked. That got a tiny smile out of Shea, followed immediately by a wince. “Don’t make me smile.” A fresh drip of watery blood slid down his cheek. I wiped it away. “Ah, but you have a good one.”
