picked up a cup. “Another?” he asked.
She nodded, feeling a flirtatious smile lift her lips. Why hadn’t she noticed the tall, lean, tanned soccer player before? “What’s your name?” she asked, raising her voice over the throbbing music.
He grinned mischievously, pouring more beer into the glass. “Sean.”
“Sean?” she repeated. He nodded. She took the glass and flashed a smile. “I’m Annabelle.”
“I know who you are,” he told her confidently. Pleased, she held up her glass to him, toasting his words, and threw back the beer. When she had downed the whole glass, she set it down. “Do you want to dance?” he asked.
“Yes!” she declared, eager to get rid of some of the energy inside of her. She allowed him to take her arm and lead her out to the crowd, where an impromptu dance floor had been created on the grass. She felt strong, slender fingers pull her close, their legs interlocking as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
They danced until someone came up and tugged on her arm, asking to cut in. She turned, smiling brightly as she recognized Parker at her side. She thanked Sean for the dance, chucking him under the chin teasingly when he scowled. Parker reached out for her, bringing her to him. As they danced, his hands travelled all over her body, warming her already flushed skin.
To her surprise, it felt delightful, and she had no desire to stop him. She had never really liked Parker all that much, trying to avoid him and his womanizing ways, but she felt full of love for him, wanting to hug him.
“Let’s get a drink,” Parker said in her ear, low and throaty. She shuddered at the sensation and nodded, allowing him to lead her by the hand back to the kegs. Parker held up two fingers, and to her surprise, he tossed a twenty onto the table.
Another soccer player Annabelle only vaguely recognized flashed an impish smile and grinned.
“You look gorgeous, you know,” Parker told her, drawing her into his arms and leaning down to gaze into her eyes.
She smiled up at him coyly, pleased at the compliment. Maybe she had misjudged Parker all this time. He was a good looking guy, with his short crop of sandy brown hair and warm brown eyes. “Yeah?” she teased. “The clothes are Claudia’s, you know.”
Parker had her pressed up against him, and he was irresistibly warm, his embrace impossibly comfortable. “Maybe you should borrow her clothes more often,” he purred in her ear.
She shivered again at the sensation. Parker released her when the drinks were done, and she took the one the soccer player held out to her, toasting it to him in thanks. He grinned wickedly and she giggled, even as she turned back to Parker, who lightly tapped his glass against hers. “To trying something new,” he said.
She nodded and threw back the contents of the glass, guzzling it until it was empty. Then she laughed out loud, and Parker laughed as well, leading her back out to the dance floor.
“Can I cut in?”
“No,” Parker declared hotly, even as Annabelle stepped back away from him to look at the new voice. It was one of the football players… Mark, she thought.
Annabelle lightly patted Parker’s strong arm. “You and I can dance again,” she promised, even as she turned and all-but fell into Mark’s arms.
He danced roughly and out of time with the music, but she didn’t mind. It was almost a relief to have an outlet for all of the energy she felt building up inside of her. She writhed along with him, laughing when he started kissing her neck.
And then something strong and firm grabbed her arm and yanked.
Hard.
She went crashing into the person, yelping, even as she lifted her head to look up. To her astonishment, Will stood there, his eyes flashing as he stared at Mark. He was dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt, an open white shirt over it.
“What the hell is your problem, man?” Mark demanded furiously, stepping forward, almost crushing Annabelle between them.
“You don’t want to start this,” Will told him coldly, his grip on Annabelle fierce. She frowned up at him.
“Do you want to dance?” Annabelle asked him, confused.
Will glanced down at her, his expression a mixture of sympathy and anger. “Yeah,” he answered.
Annabelle felt delight fill her. “Really?” she asked excitedly, turning to face him. His grip on her loosened, but he didn’t relinquish her arm. “I kind of thought you hated me.”
He ran his