“If you’re not careful, I might think you’re nervous.” This thought seems to entertain him. “Do I, Carrie? Do I make your pulse race faster?” “My pulse is just fine, thanks.” “Is that so?” “Mm-hm.” The sound comes out in a strained squeak that isn’t fooling anybody. Dash plays along. “Okay. So, if I were to—” He removes his fingers from my mouth, trailing them along the line of my jaw, down the column of my throat.
