Page 12 of The Billionaire's Fan

What is he wearing to bed? Does he sleep in the nude? Is he wearing just his underwear? Does he prefer boxers over briefs? Does he wear socks to bed?

Is he lying awake just as I am?

In the silence, I hear the floor creek. I lift my head and strain to hear more movement.

Is that the house settling, or is that Asher?

I hear something fall to the floor and I push up in bed.

It sounded like it was coming from the bathroom or the hallway. I’m not sure.

I climb out of bed with caution. Normally, I’m not jumpy and I’m quick to fall asleep.

I peer into the hallway and I see two bare feet sticking out from the hallway bathroom.

Oh shit. Did he fall and hit himself in the head?

I rush several feet, stop in front of the door, and cover my mouth.

CHAPTER SIX

Asher

I can’t fall asleep. My body is humming, knowing that the woman that I’ve been thinking about non-stop is in bed, down the hall from me.

It’s been far too long since I’ve been a regular guy. And everything about Jordyn makes me feel like one. She doesn’t treat me any differently. She doesn’t tip-toe around topics; she isn’t putting me on a pedestal, and she doesn’t ask me to introduce her to so-and-so or to hook her up with something.

No, to her, I’m just Asher Knight.

And I like that. I like just being me.

I lay in the bed in her spare room with my shirt and jeans laid neatly atop the dresser in the room's corner. My arms behind my head as I stared up at the ceiling.

Is she already asleep?

What does she wear to bed? Does she have pajamas? Does she sleep in her underwear? Does she sleep in the nude? My mind is racing.

I’ve learned so much about her within the past few hours that I yearn to know more. I want to know everything about her. I want to be in her orbit and soak off the realness she alludes.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

What is that? I sit up and strain my hearing to figure out where the drip is coming from.

Is it coming from inside the room?

I roll off the bed, my bare feet padding across the hardwood floor. The dripping is not coming from the bedroom. I slowly open the bedroom door to avoid any noise and poke my head out.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Everything is quiet part for the drip as I tiptoe toward the bathroom. I lean into the bathroom. It’s not coming from the shower. I look over at the sink. The bowl is slightly damp, but I don’t see any water dripping from the faucet.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

I open the storage under the sink.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

I sit on the ground and begin moving toiletries out of the way. And there it is.

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