“I called you Cookie for two reasons. And neither of them had anything to do with the shape of your perfect fucking body.” He takes a step closer, finally following me. “Reason one.” He steps forward again, raising his hand and holding up one finger. “You literally threw a cookie at me. And two.” He holds up a second finger. “I call you Cookie because you’re sweet and delicate and”—he reaches out and grips one of my braids—“I want to eat you.”
