Page 42 of Jasper

I hesitate, unsure of how much truth I can give. “I’m not sure,” I whisper, because it’s the only thing I can say that isn’t a complete lie.

His eyes search mine for a moment before he speaks again. “Have you ever been in a relationship before?”

I shake my head slowly. “No.”

“But you’ve had a Daddy?”

Another small shake. “No.”

He exhales as his pupils dilate. Does it make him happy that I’m inexperienced?

“I think you need one.”

His statement stuns me.

My brows pull together. “A Daddy?”

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Someone to take care of you. Make sure you’re happy. Healthy. Safe. Not living in the fucking woods. Fed. All the basic stuff that you deserve and more.”

The idea makes my stomach twist, not in fear, but in something I don’t want to examine too closely. A longing I’ve had and fantasized about for years. I scoff, glancing away, trying to shake it off. “I have bigger things to worry about than relationships. I’m just trying to survive right now.”

He doesn’t flinch. His tone doesn’t change. “You don’t need to worry about that anymore.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s not that easy, Jasper.”

“It could be,” he murmurs, and when I glance at him again, his expression has shifted—stronger, certain. “If you trust me, let me be that person. Let me be your Daddy.”

That word—thatname—hits differently. It sits on my chest like a stone dropped into still water. The heat rushes up my neck and into my cheeks, making me feel small and flushed and suddenlyveryaware of every inch of his body next to mine.

He leans in, his voice dropping another octave. “I’m drawn to you, rainbow. In a way that I’ve never been drawn toanyone. Ever since that morning in the coffee shop, when I watched you lift that jerk’s watch like you didn’t have anything to lose… you’ve been in my head. I haven’t stopped thinking about you, rainbow. All I’ve wanted to do is take care of you.”

I swallow thickly, emotions rising too fast for me to sort through. “Why?” I ask quietly. “I’m nothing special.”

His entire demeanor shifts. In one sharp movement, he throws the blanket off us and grabs me behind my knee, dragging me across the bed toward him with firm, unyielding strength. I gasp, my hands catching his chest for balance, my eyes wide as he moves.

Then—

Swat.

His palm lands on my bottom, quick and sharp.

I yelp, the sound bursting from me.

His eyes blaze with something primal and protective. “If I ever hear you say something like that again… If youeverput yourself down like that, it’ll be more than one.”

My cheeks burn, but it’s not just embarrassment. My whole body is pulsing, warm and tight and flustered in ways I don’t fully understand.

My core clenches, and I squirm, not sure if I want to pull away or get closer.

He doesn’t give me time to think. His stare is locked on mine like a command.

“Say you’re sorry,” he demands.

I blink. “W-what?”

Another swat. This one is firmer. More deliberate.

“Say sorry,” he growls. “For putting yourself down. Tell me it won’t happen again.”

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