Everyone who works within the New York Warriors organization knows that star player August Fletcher refuses to talk to most people...and especially team reporters. All except Quinn Castle, that is.
Quinn doesn't know why the broody football player...
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"THIS IS WHY I wanted to keep you on my side of the bar."
August's husky voice overtook my senses as he murmured in my ear. He'd caught me in his arms, trapping me with my back to his chest. We were both covered in a light sheen of sweat, so I probably should have been uncomfortable with how close we were, but August curled around me protectively, and I didn't care to break away.
Once I'd recovered from the surprise of running into him, I glanced over my shoulder. His eyes glittered like hard diamonds, ever watchful.
"I'm not allowed to dance?" I asked.
"You're allowed to dance," he murmured before his eyes darted past me, presumably to his friend. "Just not with Finny."
I looked across the dance floor to find Finn watching us, a sly grin on his face.
"I don't think he even really wanted to dance with me," I said honestly.
Pretty sure it was just a tactic to make this happen, which made me wonder how much August's friends knew about me. I'd assumed when August had mentioned that he liked me, he simply meant in comparison to other reporters. But now...
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," August grunted.
He still hadn't released me, which was surprising. But not as surprising as when August began swaying his hips to the beat of the sultry music coming from the jukebox in the corner by the pool table. Without thinking, I mimicked his movements, letting us sway together.
"Fine, then tell me who else is on the no-dance list," I said, following his lead and dropping my weight against his sturdy wall of muscle, letting him take control. "What about that guy?"
I pointed to a man sitting on the edge of the dance floor. He had beachy blonde hair and the look of someone who'd had one too many beers. I'd see his eyes flit over me a number of times throughout the past few hours. I didn't think it was in interest, though. More...curiosity. Like he wanted to know who I was and where I came from. And similarly, I was curious who he was and if he had a reason to care.
August's grip tightened around my waist, his tone tinted with warning. "You don't even know that guy."
"So?" I shrugged, smiling to myself.
I couldn't see August's face, but I imagined him rolling his eyes.
"No."
"What?"
"I'm answering your question. No, you're not allowed to dance with him."
"Because I don't know him?"
"Yes." August paused before finishing his answer. "You shouldn't dance with people you don't know."
"I don't know anyone in this bar besides you," I commented lightly.
