His lips were chapped and scraped slowly up the nape of her neck.

This must be what it feels like when a diamond etches glass...

She could sense the yearning in the way his hands moved on her shoulders - softly - that he was trying to be gentle. His intentions were sliding silk, and his attentions were hangnails on loose-knit cashmere.

It doesn't feel right. She pushes him away, firmly, with resolve.

"You make my skin crawl, you need to stop."

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