Page 3 of Guarding Her Love

Joy. Yeah, that’s what I’m feeling.

2

Dawson

My whole world is spinning and it’s not from the car crash. Joy may have just slammed into me, but that’s nothing compared to the way her eyes are rocking me now. It’s completely the wrong time, and I know I shouldn’t be feeling this way, but my body is screaming out at me to kiss her. There’s nothing I want to do more, but first I have to make sure she’s safe – make sure she’s okay.

“Joy, I’m Dawson. What happened?” I ask her. “Do you remember? Did you lose control of your car? Have you—have you been drinking?”

“Ew, no!” she replies, obviously insulted. She sits up. “I wasn’t drinking; I was run—”

Her voice cuts off and she looks at me suspiciously.

“I was just driving too quickly,” she says, but I’m no dummy; I know that’s not what she was going to say. She was about to say she was running from someone. Instantly, my trained reflexes kick in and I scan the environment for any potential threats. I don’t see any, but I do hear the sound of multiple vehicles approaching from the South Side.

“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get you out of here.”

I try to unbuckle her seatbelt, but the buckle is busted. Quickly, I grab my knife off my belt. Her eyes go wide when she sees the blade, but I put a firm hand on her chest to calm her.

“I have to cut you out of your seatbelt,” I tell her. “Don’t move, okay?”

She’s breathing heavily and her heart rate is definitely elevated, but she does as I ask and stays still as I slice the seatbelt and pocket my knife.

“All right, take my hand,” I tell her. She does; her hand is smooth and soft, half the size of mine, and I help her out of her totaled car. Then I get a good look at her.

Standing up, her curves are even more mouth-watering. Her breasts are full and high on her chest, and her nipples are hard; she’s not wearing a bra. She’s carrying a few extra pounds compared to most girls, but she’s carrying them well. Besides, I like a little more cushion for the pushin’. Oh, and her hips…baby-making hips.

I sweep my eyes up her, from her cute pair of white sneakers to her patterned yoga pants to her white top that’s barely holding back her Double-Ds…

…at least.

When my eyes reach hers, I realize I’ve been blatantly checking her out, and try to casually play it off.

“Where are you headed?” I ask. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

“3rd Street. You know where that is?”

“I drive Uber,” I tell her. “I know where everything is.”

“Uber?” she frowns. “You look more like a military guy to me.”

I nod, impressed. “Good eye. Marines.”

She nods back and smiles. “Well thank you for your service.”

Chuckling, I hold the door for her and she slides into the car. I get in beside her and wince when I see the bump on her head.

“I should get you to the hospital,” I tell her. She shakes her head quickly.

“No, just take me home,” she says. “I’ll ice it.”

“You sure? We should at least call this in and get your car towed. Do you have insurance?”

“No, we shouldn’t…” Joy’s voice trails off as the sound of police sirens begin to wail in the distance. She glances out the window as the lights appear a few blocks down, then spins back to face me, her eyes filled with fear.

“We have to get out of here!”

“What? Nah, don’t worry about it,” I assure her. “I’ll tell them it was nobody’s fault and it’ll be fine—”

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