The Billionaire’s Fan (The Whispering Oaks Society)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Jordyn

As I step into Asher’s history townhome in Empire Bay, my breath catches. The house was a perfect blend of old-world charm and modern comfort, exuding an air of timeless elegance. The evening had already been amazing, our secluded dinner wrapped in intimate conversation and stolen glances of getting to know one another. Now, being alone with him in his home, a mix of excitement and nervousness fluttered in my stomach.

The entryway opened into a spacious living room with high ceilings and large, arched windows framed by heavy drapes. The windows overlooked a part of Empire Bay that boasted cobblestone streets and timelessness. Exposed brick walls added a rustic touch adorned with vintage framed posters of legendary rock concerts alongside framed photographs of the band at various stages of their career.

A grand fireplace dominated one wall, its mantel decorated with an assortment of candles, each flickering softly and filling the room with a soothing, amber glow. The wooden floors, polished to shine, creaked slightly underfoot. Plush oversized sofas and armchairs were arranged around a coffee table with the focal point being one of the biggest televisions I’ve ever seen.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked. “Coffee, tea, soda, water, wine… I’ve got it all. I went shopping this afternoon, so it’s not old shit.”

“Do you go shopping yourself or do you have someone to do it for you?” I tease.

“Technically, I have someone who can do it for me. It’s called Door from Store Dasher. But today, I did it myself like a big boy.”

“Oh, he has jokes.”

“Babe, I’m a true comedian.” He winks. “Are you thirsty?”

He has no idea .

“Wine would be nice,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper as my heart raced.

As Asher moved to the kitchen, I wandered further into the living room. I admired the eclectic collection of books on the built-in shelves, a mix of classic literature, music biographies, and well-worn paperbacks with my finger grazing the spines.

When Asher returned with two glasses of wine, he found me standing by the large bay window., looking out at the quiet, moonlit streets. “It’s beautiful here,” I turn to him with a soft smile.

“Thank you. I love this house. It was my first purchase when we started making money,” he agreed, his eyes fixated on me. “Come on, let’s watch a movie.”

“It’s getting late. Are you sure?”

“Truth be told, I don’t want this night to end.” He admits.

He led me to the sofa, where we settled in, the distance between us gradually closing as the opening credits began. Asher pulled a blanket from the arm of the couch and draped it over us both, his arm resting on the back of the sofa, fingers occasionally brushing my shoulder in a way that sent shivers down my spine.

We shared quiet laughter and comments throughout the movie. We grew more comfortable and intimate by the minute. As the movie ended, the soft glow of the fireplace cast a warm light over the room. The ambient light from the streetlights outside added a subtle, romantic glow to his living room, enhancing the historic charm of the home.

I turned to Asher, my heart racing as I met his eyes. I saw a mixture of excitement and nervousness, the newness of whatever was happening between us making every moment feel fresh and exhilarating. He smiles with a tender expression that makes my heart flutter even more.

“Thank you for having me over tonight,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m not going to lie. I don’t want to let you out of my sight.” He replies, his eyes never leaving mine. “Being away from the craziness of touring has been - refreshing.”

The silence that followed was filled with unspoken words, the air thick with anticipation. His hand gently reached up to brush a strand of hair behind my ear, sending a shiver down my spine with his touch. The simple gesture, incredibly intimate, grounding me at the moment.

Slowly, he leans in, his gaze dropping to my lips. My breath hitched as I closed the remaining distance between our bodies, our lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss. The initial touch was gentle, exploring, as if we were both savoring the novelty of being so close.

His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb caressing my skin with a tenderness that made my heart skip a beat. My hands find their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingertips. The kiss deepened, growing more passionate as we lost ourselves in the sensation, the work surrounding us fading into oblivion.

The warmth of the fireplace felt like it intensified, wrapping us in a cocoon of heat and light on the summer night while our hands roamed. His townhome, with its timeless elegance and rich history, became the perfect backdrop for the perfect date night. Each kiss held a promise, a declaration of the feelings that had been budding between us since we met.

When we pulled back, both breathless and slightly flushed, my eyes fluttered open to find Asher gazing at me with a mixture of affection and desire. He rests his forehead against mine, our breaths mingling in the space between us.

“Wow,” I whispered, a smile tugging at my lips.

“Yeah,” he agrees, his voice husky with need. “Wow.”

We savored the closeness, the connection. I felt content wash over me; the nerves placed by a profound sense of belonging. Asher’s time off from his tour is a gift. A perfect chance for us to build something, real and lasting. At least I hope so

With a gentle squeeze of my hand, Asher pulls me back into another kiss, this one filled with an intensity of what’s coming before he pulls away.

Asher clears his throat, his fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of my shirt. I look at him with curiosity and affection, the nerves clear in his eyes, a vulnerability that is both endearing and rare for a man like, usually so confident on stage.

“So, tonight has been incredible, and I don’t want it to end just yet. I know that this is forward, and I stayed at yours last night. Would you like to stay at mine?”

“Another sleepover?” I smile.

Asher continues, “I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman. I just… I want to stay in our bubble. And in the morning, we can go out to my favorite place for breakfast. There’s this great little cafe down the street that I think you’d love.” He pauses, his eyes searching mine. “No pressure. If you’d rather that I take you home, I will.”

I smiled. Touched by his sincerity and the nervousness he was trying so hard to hide, I place my hand on his, playing with my sleeve and pulling it to my cheek, my thumb gently brushing the back of his hand as he cups my face.

“Asher,” I started, “that won’t be necessary.”

“Wait, what part?” Asher blinks, momentarily confused.

“All of it.” I smile. “I would love to stay. And about the part of being a perfect gentleman.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t.”