“Breaking the cookie in two, he handed me the larger piece. I snatched it away, half tempted to throw it back in his face, but it was...it was chocolate chip. So I ate it and loved it.”

“You okay with all of this?" I whispered to Daemon.He shrugged. "Not like I can stop her."I knew he could if he wanted, which meant he didn't have a problem with it. "Cookie?" he offered, holding a cookie full of chocolate chips.Upset tummy or not, there was no way I could refuse that. "Sure."His lips tipped up one side and he leaned toward me, his mouth inches from mine. "Come and get it."Come and get...? Daemon placed half the cookie between those full, totally kissable lips.Oh, holy alien babies everywhere...My mouth dropped open. Several of the girls at the table made sounds that had me wondering if they were turning into puddles under the table, but I couldn't bring myself to check out what they really were doing.That cookie—those lips—were right there. Heat swept over my cheeks. I could feel the eyes of everyone on else, and Daemon... dear God, Daemon arched his brows, daring me. Dee gagged. "I think I'm going to hurl."Mortified, I wanted to crawl into a hole. What did he think I was going to do? Take the cookie from his mouth like something straight out of an R rated version of Lady and the Tramp? Heck, I kind of wanted to and I wasn't sure what that said about me.Daemon reached up and took the cookie. There was a gleam to his eyes, as if he just won some battle. "Times up, Kitten."I stared at him.Breaking the cookie into two, he handed me the larger piece. I snatched it away, half tempted to throw it back in his face, but it was... it was chocolate chip. So I ate it and loved it.”

“Whoa. It was hard to stick to my resolve of not caving to the ridiculous notion of us being together when he was actually…nice, and when he stared at me like I was the last piece of chocolate in the whole world.Which made me think of that damn chocolate chip cookie in his mouth.”

“We have begun to slam doors, and to throw things. I throw my purse, an ashtray, a package of chocolate chips, which breaks on impact. We are picking up chocolate chips for days. Jon throws a glass of milk, the milk, not the glass: he knows his own strength, as I do not. He throws a box of Cheerios, unopened.The things I throw miss, although they are worse things. The things he throws hit, but are harmless.I begin to see how the line is crossed, between histrionics and murder.”

“I ate a half a cookie, but not because I wanted to. I ate it out of necessity.”

“I’m a smart cookie. Chocolate chip.”