Bright Lights and Summer Nights: A Fake Dating Billionaire Sports Romance (Black Tie Billionaires)

“What a night,” I mutter as Preston and I walk through the front door of the house. I don’t even know what time it is, but I know we celebrated Jackson and Peyton into the early hours of the morning. I’m exhausted but also incredibly exhilarated by how perfect the night was.

“You hungry at all?” Preston asks, setting my heels he was carrying for me by the door.

I smile and nod. “I’m starved. It seems like the late-night snack the club served was hours ago.”

“It was hours ago,” Preston points out, walking over to the refrigerator. “And you barely left the dance floor. You need fuel for your body. I’ll make us something.” He’s been quiet tonight. Even more quiet than normal. Even as he spun me around the dance floor, he wouldn’t voice whatever was running through his head. Which is unfortunate because all I want to know is what he’s thinking about.

“You being a good cook is really sexy.” I still don’t have the nerve to ask him why he’s been so quiet, but I do want to break the tension now that it’s just us.

I slide onto one of the barstools at the large island. I’d had a few drinks over the course of the night, but by this point, I barely even feel them anymore. I’m riding a high from the incredible time I had with Preston at the wedding.

But with that high comes the knowledge of what tomorrow will bring. Peyton and Jackson leave for their honeymoon, and Gram’s already told me that a private plane is taking the rest of them back to Manhattan tomorrow afternoon.

My time with Preston is coming to an end, and I hate it. I want more of it. I want more of him. I don’t even want to sleep until he steps onto a plane so I can soak in every moment I have with him.

“What sounds good to eat?” he asks as he rifles through the contents of the fridge. He’d put in a massive grocery order yesterday that completely stocked the fridge, which I found odd since he’s leaving tomorrow, but I didn’t question him on it.

“You know what I want?” I lean forward, placing my chin in my hands as I stare at him.

“What do you want?”

You. All I really want is you. “I want a grilled cheese.”

Preston cocks his head to the side. “We have a fridge full of different ingredients, and you want something with only two?”

I nod. “I love a grilled cheese. But technically, it has to have a pickle on the side, so there’s three right there.”

“A pickle?”

“Yes. A pickle.”

He watches me over his shoulder for a moment before turning back to the fridge. “Got it. One grilled cheese with a pickle coming right up.”

“Hopefully you make two or you aren’t hungry because I’m not sharing my food.”

This makes Preston laugh. “Okay. No sharing. Two grilled cheeses, then.”

We fall into a natural conversation as he makes the sandwiches. I love watching him cook and having normal conversations with him. I learn about his favorite movies, that he actually hates snakes but the tattoo was something he got done with the other rookies his first year, and he didn’t want to admit to them he actually hated snakes. He tells me about his best friend from college, Ethan, and all the wild ideas Ethan’s come up with over the years.

Time moves too quickly, and all too soon, both of our plates are completely wiped clean, and we’re sitting in silence, the tension between us thick.

Preston swallows, his eyes focusing on my mouth. “How was the food?”

“Awful. The worst grilled cheese I’ve ever had.”

His head cocks to the side. “So bad you ate every last bite?”

“Only because I was starving.” I try to fight my smile, but it’s no use. My lips turn up in a wide one. It was actually the best grilled cheese I’ve ever had, but I don’t want to admit that to him and have it go to his head.

Preston shakes his head. Reaching out, he grabs the barstool I’m sitting on and pulls it toward him. The legs of the stool make a scratching sound against the floor as he pulls me between his thighs. He cages me in on either side as he stares me down with raised eyebrows. “Take it back.”

I rub my lips together, slowly shaking my head at him. “No.”

“Rebel.” The nickname comes out as a warning as he stares at me. His gaze is intense, making me feel hot even though he isn’t even touching me.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

“Rhodes,” I fire back, trying to mimic the warning tone to his voice but failing miserably. I’m having too much fun messing with him that I can’t mask the teasing tone to my words.

“One more chance to tell me that was the best damn grilled cheese of your life.”

I playfully shrug. “I’ve had better.”

The words have barely left my mouth when his fingertips are pressing into my sides. I scream, not expecting the pressure he applies to my ribs.

“Preston!” I yell, squirming in the stool to try and get him to stop tickling me. He doesn’t, making me laugh so hard that it gets hard to breathe.

“I warned you,” he says next to my ear, playfully nipping at my ear as his fingers continue to dig into my sides.

“It was the best grilled cheese ever,” I yell, ready to do anything to get him to stop tickling me. I can barely get words out through the laughter. I wouldn’t be shocked if he wasn’t even able to understand what I said through the fit of giggles.

Finally, Preston’s fingers still. He keeps them pressed to my ribs but doesn’t move them. My chest heaves up and down as I try to catch my breath. Suddenly, all the humor is gone. The air has thickened in just a few short seconds, and it’s all because of the heated way he looks at me.

Everything pauses for a minute as we stare at one another. One second, I’m still in my own seat, only feeling the press of his fingertips through the fabric of my dress; the next, I’m being pulled onto his lap as I straddle him.

Our lips crash together like a powerful wave. We’re teeth and tongue and the press of heated bodies against one another. My fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt as he pushes the skirt of my dress up my hips. We’re frantic at getting one piece of clothing off the other until I’m in nothing but a pair of panties and he’s stripped down to his boxer briefs.

Preston sets me on the island. The stone is cold against the backs of my thighs, but I don’t care. All I care about is his lips as they trail across my collarbone. His thumb brushes over my sensitive nipple, making my hips buck with eagerness. I want him to touch me. I’d take feeling the press of his skin anywhere, and he knows how touch-starved I am for it as he continues to let his fingers brush along my body as his lips travel down.

Finally, his mouth hovers above my peaked nipple. His breath is hot against my skin, teasing me as I wait for him to finally take my nipple into his mouth. He makes me wait, instead running his tongue along the skin around it. I moan, needing some sort of relief. It feels like I could combust with how much I need him.

His tongue circles my nipple one more time before he takes it in his mouth. His other hand cups my other breast, sending tingles down my spine. My toes curl as he switches from one nipple to the next, giving them both attention.

“Preston.” His name comes out as a plea. As good as his mouth on me feels, I need more. I want him inside me, to feel him stretching me and molding my body to perfectly fit him.

“I know, baby,” he mutters against my skin. “You need me, don’t you?”

I nod, meeting his gaze when he lines his face up with mine. The movement makes him smile, his teeth raking against his lip in anticipation.

He leans in to kiss me, and I meet him halfway, letting him pull my body from the counter. I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me to the bedroom. He kisses me the entire way to the bed, our lips only disconnecting for us to catch our breath before it continues.

Softly, he lays me down on the mattress. Our kiss breaks as he stands above me, his gaze intense as it traces my body.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers.

I swallow. The air between us is still thick, but this is different. It feels heavier, like something more than lust.

His eyes don’t leave my body as he pushes his boxer briefs down his thighs. I watch in awe as he wraps his fingers around his length and begins to move up and down.

“Come here.” My voice is shaky from how badly I want—need—him. If tonight’s the last night I have him, I want to spend every single second of it in his arms with our bodies joined.

Preston takes a step forward, his fingers hooking through the fabric of my thong at my hips and pulling down. I help him get the panties off me, needing them gone and nothing between us. It’s one step closer to him being inside me.

The mattress dips with his weight as he places his body between my legs. His hands run up the sides of my thighs as if he’s memorizing the feel of my skin against his fingertips. My heart races with the thought. Is he trying to commit every single moment of this night to memory? Does it pain him as much as it does me to think we might not get another night together after tonight?

“I know I should take my time with you,” he begins, leaning over me and pressing his hand into the mattress next to my head. “If I was a gentleman, I’d let you come against my tongue before pushing inside you, but I don’t want to be a gentleman tonight, Em. I need you—all of you—right now.”

As if to prove his point, he runs the tip of himself along my clit. I moan, agreeing with him that it’s exactly what I need.

I nod. “I need that too. Please, Preston.”

He laughs as his lips travel along my jawline. “I love that my girl has manners, even when I’m being the furthest thing from a gentleman.”

My clit throbs as he continues to circle it with his tip. I moan, ready for him to stop teasing me and push inside.

I’m getting ready to open my mouth and start begging for him to fuck me when he finally lines himself up perfectly and begins to push inside me inch by inch. He doesn’t wait to give me time to adjust to him; his hips begin to move in and out of me in a slow, tantalizing rhythm.

I moan, letting out a shaky breath as I get adjusted to the size of him. He’s been inside me plenty of times now, and still, I have to give my body a moment to take all of him. He stretches me perfectly, making my toes curl against the comforter with how good it feels.

My eyes flutter open as his fingers tenderly push the hair out of my face as he continues to rock in and out of me. He watches me with hooded eyes, intensity reflecting in his cobalt-blue eyes.

Leaning forward, he takes my lips in his and kisses me slowly in the same unhurried rhythm as his hips. I thought this time would be rushed after the frenzy of our bodies in the kitchen, but he’s slowed it down. I don’t mind—something I can’t explain is happening between us.

He pulls away, the both of us staring into each other’s eyes as our moans mix together with every thrust of his hips.

“Emma…” My name comes out like a question, broken and raspy. He looks at me so intensely I’m scared of what’s running through his head.

“Yes?”