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

I wake up from the most peaceful sleep I’ve ever gotten to a strong arm wrapped around my middle. Warmth surrounds me from Preston’s solid body behind me. He’s got me tucked against him so we touch almost all the way from head to toe. Even my foot is trapped between us underneath the sheets as if he was trying to get every point of contact possible.

Aunt V once went through a phase where she wanted to talk about people’s different love languages. We’d go out to eat and watch people around us, trying to guess what we thought theirs was. It’s something I still do, and with how much Preston always seems to make sure our bodies are making contact, I’d bet his love language is physical touch. And I love that. Anytime our skin no longer touches, I miss the heat of his body.

A content sigh falls from my lips as my eyes flutter open. Sunlight fills the room, illuminating the piles of our clothing from the night before. My stomach flutters at the thought of last night—and this morning.

Preston definitely made good on his promises. I thought nothing could top what happened between us at the spa, but I was very wrong. Last night was…everything. My body is sore, and I don’t know if it’s from tennis yesterday or from him. He had me bent into positions I didn’t know were possible. I knew he gave off vibes that he liked to be in control…but last night only proved that he thrives on control. And I surprisingly love giving it to him.

Don’t even get me started on the number of orgasms he gave me.

I’m grateful that the only thing we have to attend today is the rehearsal dinner tonight. The rest of the day is free for us to do whatever we want. Which apparently started with us sleeping in pretty late, judging by how bright the room is.

I gently grab Preston’s hand, wanting to sneak out of bed and make us coffee. I’ve lifted three of his fingers when his grip on me tightens.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice is raspier than normal. Shivers run down my spine at how sexy it is.

“I was going to make us coffee.” I turn to face him, propping my head up by my elbow against the pillow.

“Screw coffee. Stay in bed with me for a few more minutes.” His fingers trace circles along my back, a gesture that means more than I could ever express.

His dark hair sticks up in different directions while some of it lies flat against his forehead. It makes him look younger and more carefree. I reach over to brush his hair back, my eyes momentarily closing at the memories of running my fingers through it last night while he rocked into me nice and slow, prolonging an orgasm he let build for what seemed like an eternity.

“Something wrong with my hair, rebel?” He pulls me closer to him by the hips until our middles are pressed against one another.

I shake my head. “No. I like your hair. You should wear it messy more often.”

He reaches up and pushes my own hair from my forehead. I don’t want to know what it looks like. I know it’s got to be a tangled mess from last night, but it doesn’t matter how it looks. Not when Preston’s staring at me like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world.

“Sleep good?”

God. The deep, throaty tenor of his voice this morning is about to have me climbing on top of him to have a repeat from last night. It’s like a caress to my libido every time I hear the scratch in his throat from the early hour.

I nod. “Slept great. I think it was the workout yesterday.”

He smiles, running his thumb along my cheekbone. “We did get a good workout…worked lots of different muscles last night.”

“Oh, I was talking about the tennis.”

His morning voice is hot, but his morning laugh? I might be obsessed with it.

“I know I gave you a far better workout than tennis did.”

I shrug, trying to play it cool. “Maybe.”

His fingers trail to the back of my head before he pulls me to him. He kisses me, and I want to protest that I haven’t brushed my teeth yet this morning, but he doesn’t give me time.

This kiss is more chaste than the ones we shared last night, but somehow, it might do more to me than any other kiss we’ve shared. This one goes right to my heart, the thing I’ve been trying to protect this entire time.

I told Preston after he kissed me in front of his family that I wasn’t girlfriend material, and I meant it. I’m not sure he’s even in the right spot in his life to be in a relationship, but when he kisses me tenderly like this, I find myself hoping we could make it work.

He pulls away but doesn’t make any kind of move to get up. The only thing he does is copy the same position I’m in. He rests his chin against his palm and pushes his elbow into the pillow to support the weight.

For a few moments, all we do is stare at each other. He looks good in the morning light. Never did I think I’d ask him to stay the night with me. I never ask anyone to stay with me. I prefer my own space and to wake up alone, but I’m loving waking up to him a little too much.

I’m the first one to break eye contact, needing a moment away from the intense way he looks back at me. I choose to trace the defined shape of his bicep with my gaze. I swallow before I get the nerve to reach out and trail over the lines of his snake tattoo with my fingertip.

“I feel like I should tell you something,” I confess, my heartbeat picking up with nerves. I’ve never once said his name online, but since I posted that first video when I arrived in the Hamptons, my following has grown exponentially. I’ve tried to keep as many details about Preston and his family secret while only speaking on my experience this week, but I don’t want to hide it from him anymore. Not that I wanted to hide it from him to begin with; it just never felt like the right time to let him know.

“Yes to whatever you want,” he responds.

I roll my eyes, my finger pausing its lazy trail along the ink on his skin. “I said I have to tell you something, not ask you something.”

“Then tell me.”

I rub my lips together, wondering what’s the best way to start the conversation. My cheeks puff out as I let out a deep breath. “The first night we met…my first night here…”

He lifts an eyebrow, the hint of a smile on his lips. “I remember it very well.”

His response makes me smile and calms my nerves slightly. “Well, that night, I decided to make a video—while very tipsy— and tell my small number of followers at the time about coming to the Hamptons to figure my life out. I was honest, almost too honest, telling them how I wanted to make mistakes and learn this summer and find myself by the end of it. I guess it resonated with a lot of people in the same position as me because I woke up the next morning to a ton more followers and that video at millions of views. Instead of panicking about being in the limelight, I decided to try and embrace it. I’ve been filling them in on the week we’ve had together…leaving out the exact details, of course, to keep your family’s privacy.”

My stomach is in knots awaiting his response. I should’ve told him sooner—I know that—but I also just didn’t know how to admit to this man that I’ve gone viral for being a complete mess.

My heart is about to beat right out of my chest when he finally responds. The corner of his mouth turns up in what I swear is the start of a smile. Maybe he’s not upset like I feared he’d be.

“I know.”

I’ve already opened my mouth to begin apologizing when it snaps shut as his words register. “You know?” Out of all the responses he could’ve given me, the one he gave was one that never crossed my mind.

Preston nods. “One of Peyton’s bridesmaids saw the video and showed Peyton, so then Peyton showed me. I liked the video. It takes a lot of courage to be that vulnerable with strangers.”This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

My face feels hot with his answer. I never thought about how viral the video went and how people I’m spending the week with could be watching my updates without me even knowing.

He reaches out and lifts my chin so I look at him. “Why are you turning red? It isn’t a big deal. Peyton changed my name in her phone to Sports Guy as a joke. You couldn’t think of a better nickname?”

I groan as I fall facedown into my pillow. “I can’t believe you knew and didn’t tell me.”

“I figured you’d tell me about it when you wanted to…if you wanted to.” He places his hand on my back. The weight of it feels good despite the utter embarrassment rushing through me.

I keep my face buried in the pillow. Realistically, I should’ve thought about the fact someone attending the wedding would see the video. Not to mention, the videos I’ve posted after are getting way more views than I can even comprehend. I should’ve known better.

“I can’t believe your entire family knows I’m such a mess.”

“I don’t know if Peyton told anyone but me. If anyone in the family knows, they haven’t mentioned it. You’re not a mess. You’re just figuring life out.”

With a dramatic sigh, I push my body off the pillow and muster up the confidence to meet his eyes. The skin around them crinkles at the sides from his grin. “You’re kind of cute when you’re embarrassed.”

“So, you’re not mad at all?”

His fingers still rest on the small of my back, except now they trace little circles that make my skin break out in goosebumps. “No, I’m not mad. You haven’t done anything wrong. I hate anything on the internet only because of the narrative they paint of me. I like how you’re choosing what you’re putting out there and telling your own story the way you want it to be told.”

“You’re acting like anyone cares about my story.”

His head cocks to the side. “Clearly, tons of people care not only about your story but about you, rebel.” He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes tracking my face before his next words are said in an almost whisper. “I feel the same as them.”

My chest hitches with his admission. Something in the air feels different between us this morning, and I don’t know why. It might be the fact it’s the morning, and I’ve never spent the morning in bed with someone before. Or maybe it’s the fact that the sunlight filtering through the curtains paints everything in a more vulnerable light. The way his hair is messy or that there’s a tiny line across his cheek from where he slept on his pillow. It makes everything feel less guarded.

“I promise I won’t tell people about us. Even after this week…I won’t put your name out there when it’s so obvious you try to stay away from social media.”

I’ve never once mentioned what sport he plays or what club all of the events are taking place at. There are tons of country clubs here in the Hamptons, just none of them as exclusive as Pembroke Hills. I’ve read comments where people swore they saw me and a former baseball player at Hilltop Country Club, and more where they argued I’ve actually been spotted with a former Olympic swimmer at Fairway Club.

I can’t keep track of all my comments, but I have been reading some, and from what I can tell, no one has caught on to the fact I’ve been at Pembroke with Preston, but then again, no one has been posting about Peyton’s wedding at all.

She mentioned to me at the garden party that she didn’t want any pictures from the events posted online until after the nuptials took place just so she could post the professional ones first. Still, I should probably check with her that my videos haven’t given too many details about her wedding celebrations to the world before she was ready.

“You don’t have to make that promise to me. I trust you. All you’re doing is sharing your story, and I’m the lucky sports guy that gets to be a part of your journey.”

This conversation has gone way better than I thought it would, making me feel almost worse because I should’ve just told him the moment he picked me up for the garden party. At that point, I was still coming to terms with the fact my face—and my hot mess of a story—was in front of millions of viewers. Now I’m just…

“Oh my god,” I rush out in a panic as a thought pops into my head. “Did I blow our cover for Peyton, then? I’ve said in my videos how we just met and⁠—”

He places his fingers to my lips. “I told her we came up with that part of the story ahead of time for privacy reasons.”

I frown. “And she believed it?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I think so. We really didn’t talk long about it, I promise. It isn’t a big deal.”