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

The kiss starts out timid, our lips barely brushing against one another. While Preston’s lips are gentle against mine, his hands aren’t. He possessively grabs me by the waist with one hand and pins me against his body. His other hand is on my neck. His hand is so large that his thumb brushes against my cheek and his pinky digs into the skin at the bottom of my neck.

I want more, but I don’t want to be the one to deepen it, not knowing how far we’re supposed to take this. My hands stay against his chest as I resist the urge to fist the fabric even tighter and bring his mouth against mine harder. I want more, but I won’t do it, no matter how bad I want it.

Preston moves his lips against mine so softly. It’s a tease, something so light but it still manages to make my chest flutter.

He’s the one to stop the kiss.

My eyes slowly open, finding his on mine already. My entire body feels warm, and I’m already wishing his lips were on mine again.

I can feel the race of his heart underneath my hand. The feel of it beating wildly against my palm is the only indication that he felt anything from the kiss because his face tells me nothing—except maybe that he might be angry by the way his brows knit together on his forehead.

“C’mon, that was noth—” Gram begins. She doesn’t finish her sentence because before she can get anything else out, Preston is placing both his hands on either side of my face and pulling me to him once again.

I yelp from surprise, not expecting it. This time, he’s far more deliberate with the kiss. The moment our lips meet, his tongue is peeking out, licking along the seam of my mouth. I open my mouth, welcoming him in and dying to get a taste.

He tastes like whiskey. Expensive whiskey that’s smooth and you can sip slowly, ensuring you never get sick of it.

I pull my hands from his chest and circle my fingers around both of his wrists tightly, attempting to pull his mouth deeper into mine.

It’s heated but slow. And ends way too quickly.

Preston pulls away, his hands dropping to his sides and forcing mine to do the same.

Somebody whistles, but I barely hear it over the thundering beat of my own racing pulse. My chest heaves, and I know it’s probably flushed from the fervor in which he just kissed me. The intensity is reflected in the way in which he stares back at me.

“Do you two need a room now?” Gram’s words catch me off guard.

I rip my eyes from Preston’s and look at her. I’m stunned, and I don’t know if it’s because of her question or if my mind is still reeling from that kiss.

“Gram, you can’t say things like that out loud,” Peyton scolds, her voice full of humor.

I press my fingers to my lips. My head spins, and I can’t decide if I want to pull Preston to me again or to run away from him because the kiss was not supposed to be that good.

I decide on the latter. “I just need…” My words drift off, and before anyone can say anything, I’m turning around and rushing away from the table. I’ll return to them and make up some sort of excuse about being shy about PDA or something along those lines, but I really just need to get away from Preston.

I knew I was attracted to him. Even before I got a good look at his face, I was drawn to him just by the sound of his voice. But that kiss…that kiss was dangerous because I wanted to get lost in it. I could’ve gotten lost in him, and this summer isn’t about being lost—it’s about being found.

“Emma, wait!” Preston calls from behind me.

I sigh, folding my arms across my chest and not slowing my steps in the slightest.

“I need a minute, Preston!” Luckily, I’m able to keep my voice composed. I know if I just get a little space from him, I’ll be able to return to the dinner and pretend that kiss didn’t totally rock my world. I just need a few minutes to gather myself before doing that.

“Where are you going?” Preston asks, his voice closer this time.

A small sound of annoyance comes from deep in my throat. He’s the reason I’m in this situation to begin with—the reason I’m having to come to terms with the fact that a kiss that felt so perfect was only just for show.

“I’m going for a walk,” I call out, looking around to see where I could even walk to.

“A walk? To where?”

“To anywhere you aren’t,” I mutter under my breath, thankful that his voice isn’t too close to me to hear it.

At least that’s what I thought. His fingers wrap around my bicep and spin me, forcing me to face him.

His eyes scan my face with concern. “Did I do something wrong? I wasn’t thinking when I pulled you back in for that kiss and⁠—”

I don’t let him finish. I’m turning back around and heading in the direction of what looks to be a large garden maze. Luckily for me, Peyton chose a massive property to host her event at, so there are plenty of places for me to escape to. If Preston would just let me.Content © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Five minutes!” I don’t have to look back to know that Preston is still following me. I can feel him there behind me, hot on my heels as I beeline it to the garden maze. “I just need five minutes, and then I’ll be back at that dinner, perfectly pretending to be your girlfriend.”

“So it was the kiss, then?” Preston pushes, following me into the entrance.

I let out a frustrated sigh, spinning on my heel to face him. He must not expect me to stop because he almost runs into me. His quick reflexes are the only thing that prevent him from doing so.

“Can you just stop with your questions and give me five minutes alone?” My voice comes out more defeated than I want it to, which probably only makes things worse by the way he frowns.

“I’ll leave you alone once I know that you’re not mad at me for kissing you.” He runs his hand through his hair, his eyes anxious as they watch me carefully.

I roll my eyes. “I’m not upset about the kiss.” Maybe I am upset about the kiss, but not for the reasons he thinks.

Preston takes a step closer to me. I take a step back. We repeat the movement until the leaves of the foliage climbing up the maze wall graze my back.

His eyes rake over my face. “Then what had you running away?”

I wish he didn’t smell so good. I wish he didn’t have such piercing blue eyes that make it hard to look away. I wish I’d never agreed to be his fake girlfriend without thinking about everything that entails.

I wish he’d kiss me again.

“Emma.” My name falls from his lips like a warning.

“I just needed to get away from you for a minute!” My words come out louder than I wanted them to, but he’s pushed my buttons by not letting me have a moment to myself.

“From me?” Preston asks. He keeps firm eye contact, making it hard to look away from him, even though I want to fold under his gaze.

“Yes. From you.”

“So it was the kiss, then?” He sighs in frustration, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “I should’ve told my family no. I⁠—”

“It’s because I want to kiss you again!” I shout, my resolve finally breaking.

He jolts, my words taking him by surprise.

I take a deep breath in, wondering if I’ll regret telling him that. “The first thought I had when you pulled away was how badly I wanted to convince you we needed more practice…that we should do it again.”

Preston takes a step closer to me, pressing our bodies together. “You think we need more practice?”

My mouth feels dry. I swallow, trying to fix it. “Maybe,” I whisper.

“I don’t think we need any practice.” His voice is deep and gravelly, causing goosebumps to break out along my arms.

My heart races in my chest. Is this him telling me he doesn’t want to kiss me again? Surely not. He seemed just as into that kiss as I was. He can’t mask the possessive way he pulled me back to his lips, as if he was starved and couldn’t get air from anything or anyone else but me. I know that wasn’t in my head.

Preston reaches out, running his knuckle softly along my chin. The touch is featherlight, but it sends shivers down my spine.

“We definitely need more practice,” I manage to get out, my voice hoarse. “The kiss felt awkward.”

This makes him laugh. God, why is his laugh so sexy? It’s deep and rumbles through his chest. I feel it everywhere.

He leans forward, his eyes following the path of his knuckle. He moves it from my jaw to my throat. I wonder if he can feel my racing pulse under his touch. Is his heart beating just as fast as mine? God, I hope so.

“You’re telling me that kiss felt awkward, rebel?” His words come out rough and angry.

“Yes,” I lie. Nothing about the kiss felt awkward, but maybe if I tell him it did, I’ll convince him we have to kiss more to make it seem more natural—so his family won’t see through our facade.

He’s quiet. So quiet that my heart wants to leap from my chest in anticipation of what he’ll say next. Or maybe he won’t say anything. Maybe he’ll agree with me and kiss me again—giving me exactly what I want from him.

His knuckle makes it to my chest. He traces over the swell of my breast, making my breath hitch. It takes everything in me not to open my mouth and plead for more from him. I’d take anything more than what he’s giving me right now.

His lips are so close that I can feel his breath against my skin, but they aren’t close enough. They aren’t moving against mine.

“Wrong answer,” he responds.

“What was the right one?” My voice comes out uneven, and I want him to kiss me again so badly that I don’t even care how obvious I’m being. And I’m fairly confident by the look in his eyes he wants the same.

Preston leans in close enough that our lips almost brush against one another’s. He’s so close that I shut my eyes, waiting for him to close the distance.

He grabs the back of my neck, making me forget that I’d asked him a question. He doesn’t have to answer as long as he kisses me. His lips brush against the corner of my mouth. I turn my head to try and line up our lips, but his grip is firm on the back of my neck, keeping my head in the position he wants it.

He continues to tease me, kissing along my cheek and neck instead of pressing his lips where I want them.

A small groan of frustration leaves me, making him laugh. It feels good against my neck, feeling the tickle of his breath against my skin.

His lips make it to my ear. I swear he tries to make me combust when his teeth rake against the sensitive skin underneath it. His tongue pokes out to caress the spot where his teeth just were, and it’s the most euphoric form of torture.

I clutch his shirt, trying to pull him closer to me.

“We’ll kiss again. That I can promise you.”

I smile at his words, waiting for him to do just that. He doesn’t move; he keeps his mouth lined up with my ear. “But not right now. I have to teach you a lesson for calling that kiss awkward.” As if to nail his point home, he kisses my temple so softly I barely feel it before his body heat is gone from mine.

My eyes pop open, finding him a few steps away from me. He smirks, his hands tucked in his pockets as if his body wasn’t just pressed against mine seconds ago.

“What?” I sputter, wondering what just happened.

This only makes him smile wider. I wish he didn’t smile so sparingly because it makes my heart race that much faster when he does.

“You called our kiss awkward. It was the furthest thing from that. I know that. You know that. And the next time I kiss you, I’ll make damn sure you’ll never call it that again.”

“I only said that as an excuse to kiss more.”

“Do I need an excuse to kiss you?” he counters, his head cocked to the side. “This week, you are my girlfriend, after all.”

Before I can respond to him, he’s lifting his chin and pointing to the garden exit. “We’ll finish this later. Let’s get back to dinner before Gram gets any wild ideas about what we’re doing.”