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A chill skittered down her spine.
Goose bumps covered her arms.
She counted to three, unable to move…simply listening…praying it was only her imagination. One deep breath later, she slid her right foot forward, prepared to make a beeline for home at a high rate of speed.
The groan came again. Closer than before. More desperate…almost pleading.
The need to help the injured grew within her. Turning towards the darkness, Kyndel searched for the source of the noise.
Shaking so much her teeth chattered, she looked for any sign of the man sheknewneeded her help.
“It’s time to make a decision, Kyndel. Fight or flight. What’s it gonna be? God knows standing like a bump on a log isn’t solving adamnthing.”
Flight won. She turned, almost running, her satchel clutched tightly to her side like a lifeline.
“Keep your head up and eyes front. Home’s only a few blocks away,” she reassured herself, with the promise of snatching her best friend bald for the stupid mess she was in.
Feeling guilty and worried for Grace, her heart at war with her brain, Kyndel thought aloud, “Hope everything’s okay…”
Grace had always been a little scatter-brained, but she’d never justforgottenKyndel before. It bothered her that there’d been no answer at Grace’s office or on her cellphone when Kyndel had tried to track her down before leaving the office. She’d even taken a chance and tried her own home because Grace had a key, but only got voicemail there, too. It was a war between anger and worry that accompanied most of her thoughts about her friend lately.
The running joke was that Grace spent most of her time hooking up with eligible bachelors she met at work. The good Lordknewher bestie was gorgeous; five foot nine, long raven hair, blue eyes, and a curvy body without an extra ounce of fat. To top it off, she was a first-year lawyer, with a promising career. Grace had it all…brains and beauty, the total package.
Giggling nervously, she gave herself a mental swat to the back of the head. She didn’t want anything bad to happen to Grace, just a bump or bruise, even a hangnail would explain being left. If she really had just forgotten, Kyndel was going to bepissedand more than a little hurt.
The shadows seemed to be closing in. Fear pushed Kyndel until she was almost jogging in her sensible work heels. Looking over her shoulder, the toe of her shoe caught an uneven piece of concrete, and from one heartbeat to the next, she was falling forward. Arms flailing, mouth stretched wide in a wordless scream, the sidewalk racing toward her face, everything around her seemed to happen in slow motion. All she could think wasthat’s gonna leave a mark.
Bracing for impact, she squeezed her eyes tight and prayed…then nothing happened. Opening one eye, then the other, Kyndel found herself hanging above the sidewalk, looking at a pair of the biggest feet she had ever seen—and they were sexy.
Sexy feet? I really am losing it.Wait! Why the hell am I above the concrete?
Warmth radiated from the perfectly muscled arm wrapped around her midsection. Goose bumps emanated from the extra-large hand holding firmly to her blouse, just a little too close to her breast.
She wiggled to change position, the cushion of her well-rounded ass finding the ridges of an incredibly hard set of abs. She trembled. Her heart raced. Just the thought of the man that could hold her upright made up for all her previous mishaps.
Within just a few seconds, Kyndel’s world turned on its axis. The scenery blurred as she was effortlessly spun around and immediately found herself sitting atop the body of her rescuer, looking at faded denim covering extremely muscular thighs. Laughing aloud, she asked herself,wonder what part I’ll see next?
The same muscled arm that had saved her face from certain demise now kept her upright. She did a one-eighty, draped her legs over his thighs, with her knees barely touching the sidewalk, and got her first look at the top half of her rescuer. All she could do was gape. He was absolutely the most handsome man she’d ever seen, with features that looked like they’d been carved by expert hands.
Even with his eyes closed, he gave off the distinctive air of authority. The dim light highlighted his high cheekbones and aristocratic nose, adding to the power she felt radiating from his every pore. His perfectly formed lips made visions of passionate kisses and hot sweaty nights dance through her brain. It didn’t help that all he had on was a pair of well-worn blue jeans.
She imagined that denim riding low on his tapered hips when he stood, highlighting the incredibly sexy dimples that sat on the front of his hips. She absolutely knew without looking they were there, and that simple bit of knowledge made her temperature rise another degree, despite the cool breeze.
At the touch of her fingertips against the cool skin of his neck, an electric current arced between them. Flashes of light burst before her eyes. She blinked to clear her vision, then felt for his pulse, strong and steady against her digit. Heat rose from his skin, making her worry he might have a fever. Her eyes wandered down his well-toned body. She scoffed, unsuccessfully trying to convince herself she was only checking for further injury.
Who the hell do you think you’re fooling?
She continued her perusal, taking note of his massive shoulders and a chest that could’ve been sculpted from granite. The light smattering of hair that glistened in the shards of light from the streetlamps emphasized his nipples, which were pebbled from the cool breeze. Her mouth watered and her pulse raced.
What the hell is it about this guy? Is he doused in pheromones? Or am I in heat?
Her eyes landed on the best set of abs she’d ever seen. Unable, or maybe it was unwilling, to stop her hand, she traced the defined lines of his eight-pack, mesmerized by the feel of his skin beneath her fingers. The electricity continued to flow between them. The sound of a horn in the distance pulled her from her musing and brought her current situation into the glaring light of reality. The sexy man that had kept her from breaking her face on the concrete was out cold, and she was paying him back by sitting on his lap and copping a feel.
She scrambled to her feet, surprised her rescuer hadn’t moved an inch during her less than graceful attempt to remove her butt from his lap. But there he lay, unmoving, except for the rise and fall of his chest. The longer he remained unconscious, the more panicked she became.
Looking up and down the street and cursing Grace for the hundredth time, Kyndel wished for her car. First Aid class had taught herneverto move an injured person unless you knew what was wrong. Not that she could pick him up and carry him, anyway. The dude wasHUGE. At least six foot-three or four, and his muscles had muscles. She prayed he hadn’t hit his head on the sidewalk. A concussion could be really bad if not treated.
“You’re worried about a concussion now?” She scolded herself. “You’ve been drooling over the guy while his head is lying on the cold, hard sidewalk. Brilliant, Kyn, just brilliant.” Reaching for her satchel, she grabbed her old sorority sweatshirt from inside, wadded it up, and knelt forward to lift his head.
