Page 79 of Bright Lights and Summer Nights

“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.

“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.

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