Her Dragon To Slay(4)

Telling her ‘girly self’ that the time to admire the handsome stranger had passed, she decided to see if she could help the guy that had kept her from smacking her face on the sidewalk not once but twice. Kyndel placed two fingers on his neck to feel for a pulse. A spark, almost like an electrical shock, ran up her arm as her fingers made contact with the stranger’s skin. She also noticed how warm his skin was to the touch. Her eyes roamed farther down his body, no matter how hard she tried to keep them looking at his face. She tried to convince herself that it was to check for injuries but the little voice inside her head, that she had affectionately named ‘Catty Kyndel’ many years ago, would not let her get away with the deception. The truth was this man was hotter than homemade sin and she just could not keep her eyes from wondering. A few minutes of cajoling and ‘Catty Kyndel’ backed off.

Her inner monologue silenced, she carefully moved down his body until she straddled his thighs and continued to check him out with the guise of looking for injuries. She admired his massive shoulders and well defined chest with a light smattering of dark hair and a pair of completely lickable nipples that just happened to be pebbled from the cool breeze. Then her gaze landed on the absolutely amazing set of abs that her butt had been in intimate contact with just a few minutes before. She wondered how many hours a week he worked out. There was no way he had even an ounce of body fat but he was not bulky like the body builders in the fitness magazines. He was long and lean and perfectly proportioned. He looked like he could take on all the muscle heads at her gym without breaking a sweat all the while posing for the cover of GQ. The only problem she could see was that he was out cold and she was still straddling his lap while breaking her neck to ogle him in the middle of town.

Properly motivated by her own embarrassment, she scrambled up to get a closer look at her hero/patient. He hadn’t moved a muscle while she had removed her less than skinny butt from his lap in a very unladylike fashion. He lay completely still except for the rise and fall of his near perfect chest. She could not stop the images that swam through her mind of her and her rescuer in all types of compromising positions that up until that moment she would have said she was incapable of imagining with anyone she hadn’t known for a very long time.

She really needed to get this guy some help. After all he had kept her from face planting twice in just a few minutes. What was she going to do? He obviously had some injury she could not see. Someone as fit as he appeared to be did not just lie on the sidewalk, out cold, for no reason at all. There was definitely no way she could pick him up and carry him anywhere to get him the help he obviuosly needed. The guy was HUGE. He had to be at least 6’ 3” or 4” with muscles everywhere. She also remembered from First Aid class and everything her granny had taught her growing up, that you were not supposed to move an injured person unless you knew what was wrong and more importantly, only if you knew what you were doing. No matter how much she had assisted her granny in the little backwater town she grew up in, she most assuredly did not know what she was doing in this situation. She really hoped she hadn’t played a part in any of his injuries when he had helped her. She was not the lightest thing in the world after all and he had caught her in mid air, holding her suspended above the sidewalk for a few minutes. Maybe he was who she had heard moaning. He had come from the same direction, she was sure of it. As she sat there trying to decide what to do next, she realized his head was lying on the cold damp concrete. So much for helping the dude that helped her, she thought. Her greatest accomplishments so far had been to stare at him, feel him up and drool over his physique. The least she could do was get his head on something softer than the sidewalk. She reached in her satchel, grabbed her old sorority sweatshirt, wadded it up, knelt down next to his shoulder and reached forward to lift his head.

The touch of his hair had set her mind to wandering again. It was as soft as the satin of her favorite nightie. The splinters of light from the full moon coupled with the streetlights shining through the tree branches made it look like melted chocolate flowing over her hand. She wondered what it would look like in the light of day. Would it have highlights? Strands of lighter brown, red, even a few blonde streaks woven throughout making it glisten. There was absolutely no plausible explanation for the way this man’s presence made her inner girl stand up and take notice. Here she was, sitting on the sidewalk, late in the evening, gawking at a total stranger who happened to be out cold, comparing his hair to satin and wondering if it glistened. Never in her life had she reacted to anyone this way. She reached farther under his head and felt something warm, wet and sticky. When she pulled back her hand, even with little to no light, she knew it was blood.