Page 72 of Bright Lights and Summer Nights

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.”

---