He's overwhelming every sense, leaving me just enough breath to tell him that. I move away from his hands and that damn hair of his, wrapping itself around my hands when I try to get at his jaw and throat with my mouth, like it's jealous.
He chuckles and I swear he's wriggling like a puppy. If I wasn't dealing with tight skin and a leaping, looping thud of blood, loud in my ears, I'd laugh at him.
"Dial it right down," he orders, like it's simple and I'm an idiot.
I sigh. Did that before we even started.
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