Read Online True Intentions by Lisa Kuehne - Free Book Online Page A

things easier for you? Move back to Chicago, so you don't have to run around saving me?" I icily blurt out without thinking.
    Why can't I just shut up for one stinking minute?
    Words have always shot out of my mouth before my brain has a moment to catch up. I think that's a trait Aiden despised. Whenever we'd have a fight, I'd say something I'd regret later.
    Sam narrows his eyes.
    "Look, you can just go on hating me for being an ass earlier," he says.
    "Or," he pauses again, and then a flirtatious smirk washes over his face. "We can start over?"
    "Start over, huh?" I question, my voice guarded.
    That's an interesting concept.

    "So, then . . . . You're going to tell me why you wanted to stop me running this morning?" I ask, interested in what the definition of starting over means to him.
    "Definitely not." He shrugs while maintaining his playful smirk.
    Here we go again.
    "Then, no deal," I sneer, pulling out my car keys from the front pocket of my backpack.
    I pause briefly, then add bitterly, "Do me a favor and save someone else next time."
    Arrogant Jerk!
    "Is that what you want? Would you prefer I sat back and let whatever horrible things . . . happen without making an effort to prevent it?" he yells. He's obviously appalled at my last remark. I hit a nerve with that last comment— maybe even an artery.
    His eyes are staring at me with such intensity.
    And for some strange reason, I don't want to look away.
    "I know you didn't want me to see what you and your friends were doing."
    By the look in his eyes, I can tell I have his attention, but not in the way I'd hoped.
    "And what exactly do you think we were doing?" he asks, his voice sounding wickedly amused by my accusations. Not denying them, but definitely interested.
    "I don't know, maybe raping someone," I blurt out. The words come out in a weak, soft, whiny voice, not the assertive voice I'm striving for.
    He busts into laughter and leans over as if in pain. "You are sincerely the most utterly absurd girl I have ever met!"
    I sink back, leaning into the Suburban. I feel like I'm playing cards and just flipped over what I thought to be a pair of Aces only to find out I'm holding a pair of twos instead.
    Maybe he's right . . . .

    Any girl would give it up to him more than willingly.
    I'm sure many already have.
    I can't think of a comeback. I'm humiliated for suggesting such an idea.
    His smile turns into a clear warning.
    "Don't ever doubt that if I wanted to rape anyone, including you , there would nothing you could do to stop me. So, you might just want to start avoiding me."
    His command sends a rebellious twinge through me. I can't help but be a smartass.
    "Or I can just purchase some mace," I challenge, fully aware if I ever get put in the predicament of Samuel Perry trying to have sex with me, I may not try to stop him.
    There I go again. I need therapy or at least some sort of rehab from this male drug.
    "Go for it," he says in a mocking tone. I watch him as he pushes a thick lock of his hair out of his eyes, and then, as I blink, he's suddenly gone.
    Had I just dreamt the entire conversation?
    I'm more frustrated with him now than earlier today in class. I want to . . . . Crap .
    I can't even think of what I want to do. A moment ago, part of me wanted to kiss him, to feel what his perfect lips taste like. The other part of me wanted to hit him for being so rude. I hate how he makes me lose control. It's like he is a figment of my imagination, something too perfect to be real. Well, let's say externally perfect. His personality obviously lacks a filter. His mysterious behavior is the most frustrating thing in this world.
    Why did he stop me this morning? If his intention wasn't to stop me from seeing him do something illegal, then what exactly was he protecting me from?
    That leads me to my biggest question.
    How could he know I'd be in danger in the first place?
    My instincts tell me there is a lot more to this morning. Maybe more than I want to know .

    I