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."