Page 22 of Jasper

She puts her hands on her hips and glares at me. “He’s not a rat, and he can’t help that he’s bald. He was eating out of a dumpster when I found him, and he’d recently been in a fight. I assumed his fur would come back in, but it just hasn’t yet. It’s too late to change his name. Besides, he likes it.”

Fuck me. This Little girl. She can barely feed herself, but she saved a fucking animal from a dumpster and added another mouth to feed to her plate.

“Come here,” I say in a low voice as I point to the bottom step in front of me.

The air between us is charged. It has been since the first day I met her. A crackling energy that I feel deep in my bones. I want to deny it. Pretend it isn’t there. That I’m just being a good citizen, trying to help a young woman who needs some assistance. But let’s be honest, I’ve never been a good citizen. I’m not a good man. I get pleasure from torturing people. I’m a psychopath. So doing good deeds just because isn’t my thing. I’m just not sure what my ulterior motive is here yet.

“I don’t wanna,” she replies nervously, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

Raising my eyebrows, I smirk. “You don’t wanna? Would you prefer I come to you? Because I think we both know how that ends up.”

As if the memory of me throwing her over my shoulder flashes in her head, her eyes widen, and she starts taking the steps down one at a time, slower than a slug.

“I’m going to be old and gray by the time you make it all the way down, Ariana. I don’t have a lot of patience, Little one, so you better hustle. And hold on to the damn banister.”

Her hand shoots out and grabs the railing as she starts moving faster until she’s two steps away and stops.

“I said here.” I point to the bottom step again.

As if the world was playing in slow motion, she moves down one and then another until she’s standing right in front of me. Her hair is still wet from having a shower, and the scent of strawberries surrounds us both. When I showed her to one of the guest rooms, I grabbed a bunch of bath stuff from the hall closet that we keep stocked with toiletries for Rowie and left it on the vanity for her to choose what she wanted. Whatever she chose, I fucking love it, and she smells edible.

My cock twitches at that thought. Shit. I need to get control of myself. The last thing she needs is me having filthy thoughts about eating her. Even though I’ve already had dozens of them since meeting her. And each time it’s ended with me coming in my fucking hand.

The pajamas she has on are new, a set that Cage got for Ember, but she hadn’t worn yet. A soft pair of pants and a tank top with a sleeping cat on it. The top is light pink and thin enough for me to see the outline of Ariana’s nipples.

Jesus. I’m going to hell. The things I want to do to this Little girl is fucking unforgivable.

“I’ve already fed your cat, rainbow. Gave it a can of tuna. I’ll get some kibble from the store tomorrow.”

Her expression softens as she stares up at me. Even though she’s on a step and I’m on the landing below, I’m still taller than her by a couple of inches.

“You fed Fluffy?”

I nod and reach up to brush a strand of her damp hair away from her face. “Yeah. I did. He’s at my house now, where it’s warm, probably clawing at my fucking furniture. He’ll be fine there, away from you girls until I make sure he doesn’t have fucking rabies or some other communicable disease. I set up his litterbox and left him with plenty of water.”

Ariana blinks several times, her eyes filling with tears. “Thank you. I know he’s kind of ugly, but he’s all I have.”

If I had a heart, it would crumble at those words.

“He’s not all you have anymore. You have me.”

And I am so incredibly fucked because I think I have feelings for this Little thief.

I let my gaze travel down her body, trying my best not to linger anywhere for too long. The last thing I want is to scare her with how fucking intense I can be. As I trail over the milky skin of her shoulder, my dick twitches, but I don’t stop even though I know I should. Her nipples press against the thin shirt, and I inwardly groan. Fuck. How long has it been since I’ve touched a woman? Too damn long if I can’t even take a stab in the dark at a date.

Then again, there hasn’t been any woman I’ve actually wanted to touch. Until now.

When my eyes skate down a bit and land on her forearm, every ounce of arousal vanishes and is replaced with urgency.

“Baby, what happened to your arm?” I reach out and grab her wrist, more roughly than I mean to, but shit, why is she all scratched up? They’re too thick to be claw marks from Fluffy.

Ariana pulls her arm back and holds it close to her chest. “I fell earlier. I’m fine. I washed it in the shower.”

She fell? On the ground? Was she alone? Did anyone help her? Was she scared?

Fuck.

Why do I hate myself for not being there with her? To make sure she was safe?

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