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

I stare at myself in the mirror, smoothing the fabric of the dress I’m wearing for what seems like the hundredth time.

Preston steps behind me, placing his hands on my hips as he stares at our reflections in the mirror. “Stop running your hands over the fabric,” he instructs, kissing right below my ear. “I spent almost an hour steaming all the wrinkles out.”

I smile, remembering the sight of him steaming my dress in nothing but a pair of his boxer briefs. It was hot as hell, and I almost want to wrinkle the dress all over again just to see him like that. “Oh, but you looked so good doing it,” I respond.

He trails his lips down my neck, making my eyelids flutter shut. We spent almost all of yesterday in bed together until we had to get ready for the rehearsal dinner. It felt almost normal. Like he wasn’t one of the most famous athletes in the world, and as if I wasn’t only pretending to be his girlfriend for the week.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look today?” His hands tighten around my hips as his lips continue to blaze a path across my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

“You might’ve mentioned it a few times.” The moment I opened my eyes this morning and found him already awake and watching me, he told me I was beautiful. He mentioned it again as I helped him make breakfast wearing nothing but a Manhattan Mambas shirt of his. I know he told me other times today as we got ready for his sister’s wedding day, and every time he said it, my heart leapt inside my chest.

“Well, I’m saying it again. I have the most beautiful date for the wedding, and I cannot wait to show you off.”

“Speaking of the wedding, we probably should get going.” I give him a smile through the mirror, even though inside, I’m twisted up with nerves. It isn’t because of the wedding. It’s because of what comes after.

Preston hasn’t given me any details about when he’s leaving or what his plans are, but our little agreement was only for me to be his date to the wedding. I’ve done my job. His sister’s friends have left him alone, and I haven’t overheard anyone trying to meddle with his love life since he introduced me as his.

Every time he mentions something about having me come to his games next year or that he’s getting used to waking up to me, I wait for him to say he wants more than this week. He hasn’t, and since I know I shouldn’t want something more from him when I have no idea where I’ll end up, I keep my mouth shut.

But faking it with him doesn’t feel fake at all anymore. And I don’t know what happens next.

All Preston does is continue to kiss along my neck and bare shoulder. I wish he wasn’t due for pictures at Pembroke soon. I want to get back in bed with him and forget that it’s already the end of our week together.

“Preston,” I say, his name coming out breathy as my entire body lights up with desire. “We have to get to your sister’s wedding. You can’t be late for pictures.”

“But I’m having so much fun watching my girlfriend blush for me.”

My girlfriend. God, the way he says it makes me believe everything between us is real.

“I think this is the first time in my life that I’m the responsible one,” I joke, pushing his hands from my hips, even though I miss the warmth the moment they’re gone. “As much as I’d love to stay here with you, we have to go, Rhodes. Now.”

He lets out a low groan of disapproval but doesn’t protest anymore. “I don’t like responsible Em as much.” He takes a step closer to the mirror and fixes his tie in it, something he’s done multiple times already.

If it isn’t perfectly straight, he’ll obsess and fidget with it until it’s to his liking. I find it incredibly cute, though I wonder if that’s something he’s going to still fuss over even at the wedding when he’s supposed to be having fun.

I use the opportunity to check him out again. Peyton’s wedding is black-tie. All of the guests were asked to wear black, and Preston looks incredible all dressed up. I thought I’d seen him dressed up this week in his button-ups and linen shirts, but none of them hold a candle to how he’s dressed right now.

The black suit is perfectly tailored to his body, and I might get in trouble tonight staring at the way the fabric hugs his perfect arms. I wet my lips just thinking about the tattoos he hides under the jacket. They’re my kryptonite.

“Ready?” he asks, stepping away from the mirror.

I nod, forcing a smile even though I just want to stop time for the night. Soon, I won’t be able to trace the ink on his body with my fingertip while he falls asleep or see his tousled hair in the morning, and that knowledge makes me sad.

I wanted to find myself this summer, but within the first week of being here, I’ve found something else. Something so deep and powerful I want to hold on to it forever, but I don’t know how.

Preston stops in front of me, grabbing each side of my face and cradling my cheeks in his palms. His thumbs brush over my cheekbones. I should tell him to be careful of the makeup I’d spent an hour applying, but I don’t. I want this moment with him. I want any moments I can get with him.

His eyes flick to my lips. I lined them with lipstick which now, looking back, was a dumb idea because I don’t know if he’ll want to kiss me and risk getting it all over him. Especially before the wedding.

As if he can read my mind, he leans in and softly brushes his lips against mine. He’s asking to kiss me without using any words, and in an instant, I’m standing on my tiptoes, even in my heels, to get better access to his mouth.

I press our lips together harder, needing more of him. He doesn’t protest. His grip on my face tightens as we fuse our mouths together. We stay like that for a few moments, savoring the nearness of one another.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

I’m the first one to break contact, worried that if I allow myself to feel the press of our lips any longer, then we really will be late to Peyton’s wedding.

“Alright, Rhodes, we really do have to go. Peyton’s been talking about how over-the-top today’s going to be. I’m ready to witness it.”

This makes him laugh. He holds out his hand, and I gladly take it, letting him lead me out of the room. I grab my small purse from the kitchen counter, opening it to make sure I have everything I need.

Preston’s about to open the front door to leave when he turns around and looks at me. “Didn’t you want to make a video before leaving? Tell your followers how this elusive wedding is finally happening?”

I smile, unable to rein in the way my heart races at the fact he remembered me mentioning how I wanted to film something today. Time kind of got away from us—mostly because when he started running his hand up my thigh during breakfast, I couldn’t help but have him right there in the kitchen—so I didn’t have time to get ready and film something. “I wanted to, but it’s okay. I can give them an update later.”

He gives one shake of his head. “No. Update your followers, and then we’ll leave.”

“I’ll do it in the car.”

He stares at me, and I stare back. I’ve learned we’re both incredibly stubborn. I refuse to make him late for this wedding, so if he thinks I’m going to sit here and make a video when we should be on our way, he’s very mistaken.

Today, I win this round because with a long sigh, he turns around and opens the door, waiting for me to walk through before he closes it. As I make sure the house is locked, he’s opened the door to his rental already and is waiting for me.

“Hottest chauffeur I’ve ever had,” I joke, sliding into the seat. He put the top on for the day, something that I’m a little sad about, but I understand why he did it. I carefully curled my blonde hair for the occasion, and as much as I love feeling the breeze against my cheeks, I want to keep it nice, at least until the reception. Then all bets are off because I love dancing at weddings. Pair dancing with an open bar and my hair’s bound to be a mess by the end of tonight.

“I better be the hottest anything you’ve ever had,” Preston responds as he slides into the driver’s seat. I always find it funny how massive he looks in the sports car. He has to push the seat all the way back, and it still seems like he doesn’t quite have enough room for his long, toned legs.

“Mmmm, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I fire back, getting out my phone to at least take a picture of myself before going to the event. I don’t know if I could record a video with Preston here even if I had the time. It’s a lot easier to talk to the camera when no one is watching you do it.

Before Preston can counter with some sort of jealous remark that’ll send my pulse spiking, I open the camera and hold my phone out in front of me. I focus my face on the screen and then snap the picture to share on my story. It’s only when I bring the phone closer to me that I realize that Preston’s arm is in it.

He puts the car in drive as I look over at him. “Your arm ruined my selfie.”

“Let me see.”

I angle the phone towards him. You can’t see his face or anything that proves who I’m with, but his arm and shoulder are in the corner of the photo, and I’m sure many people would notice him being there if I were to keep it.

“Post it. They can get a little tease of your sports guy.”

I stare at him, trying to figure out if he’s being serious. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

I can’t hide my smile, and I don’t want to. I know it isn’t a big deal. You can’t even tell who he is. But I like that he wants me to post him, even if it’s just his arm. It still means something. It feels special. So I post it with no caption at all and put my phone away.

Tonight, I want to live in the moment with him and not worry about what happens tomorrow. For tonight, he’s mine—my sports guy—and that’s got to be good enough for me.