Page 25 of Jasper

I don’t know what’s more terrifying—how vulnerable I feel right now. Or how the thought of Jasper possibly being a Daddy makes my core clench with need.

Before I can focus on either of those feelings and start to overthink more than I already am, Jasper taps on the door and pushes it open, appearing in the threshold like some sort of superhero.

Tonight is the first time I’ve seen him without some sort of long sleeve on, instead he’s in a black cotton T-shirt that molds to his shoulders and chest perfectly. I could tell he was built even when he was wearing a jacket, but I had no idea he would be quite this chiseled. What kind of workouts does he do? With muscles like those, I bet he’s in the gym twenty hours a day. And his tattoos only add to that. His arms and hands are covered completely, all the way down to his fingertips. Crosses and intricate lines cover his skin, some of the designs looking more ominous than others. It almost feels like I’m seeing Jasper’s story of his life on his skin, but only he knows the words to it.

He doesn’t say anything. Just crosses the room with those long, steady strides and places my tiny scrap of a blanket gently on the bed beside me.

My fingers immediately close around the worn fabric. The familiar weight and texture calm something deep in my chest, like it does every single night when I go to sleep.

I look up, trying to express my gratitude with my eyes, and as if he understands, he nods. Then, instead of leaving, he grabs the armchair from the corner of the room and drags it closer to the bed. He sinks into it, elbows on his knees, fingers laced tightly together. And then… he just stares.

That intense, unreadable Jasper stare that I saw the very first day we met. It’s intimidating. Like he’s seeing right through me. I’m not sure I like it.

I squirm under the covers, clutching my blanket tighter. My gaze flicks to the twinkle lights on the far wall, then to the comforter, then back to him. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t speak.

I bite my lip, my nerves fraying at the edges.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “Why are you living in a camper by yourself?”

I freeze.

Of course. I should have known that question would come.

I want to look away, maybe hide under the covers like a child, but that doesn’t feel safe either. Not with him watching me.

And after the scene we had on the stairs, I know better than to lie to him again. He won’t yell. He won’t scream. But he’ll say something that makes my bottom tingle and my core ache, and that might be even worse.

I swallow hard and force the words out. “I’ve been living in my camper since my eighteenth birthday.”

His expression doesn’t change, but something behind his eyes shifts—tightens.

“I had to leave my foster home once I turned eighteen,” I add quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “I was just going to buy my car, but the guy offered me the camper to go with it, and it was like a miracle because I was planning to just live in the car.”

He doesn’t speak. Just watches.

I don’t offer him any more details. I’ve already said too much. At least it was the truth. I don’t know why I’m so worried about disappointing him. He’s still basically a stranger. Yet here I am, answering his questions, doing what he says, and why? I should be running for my freaking life.

Maybe it’s the way he saidgood girlearlier. The low rumble in his voice. The way it made my stomach flip and curl my toes.

Jasper suddenly stands, his dark eyes narrowing. “You’re never sleeping in that camper again.”

I blink. “Wait—what?”

“You’ll stay here. With me. With my family. Until we figure something else out.”

“But—”

“No.” His voice is final. Unshakable. “You’re not arguing about this.”

Before I think better of it, I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him. “I’m really starting to think you have some major control issues.”

Jasper smirks. “Just starting to figure that out, huh, rainbow?”

Then he walks over to the wall and flicks off the overhead light, replacing it with the soft glow of twinkle lights. The tiny bulbs are like sleepy stars, casting a cozy glow over the room.

He turns back toward me, gaze sweeping over the bed one last time. “Sweet dreams, Little thief. I’ll be one door down if you need anything. Otherwise, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Then he strides out, leaving the door cracked behind him.

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