A Knight Comes To Bed Read Online Free

fortunately, Sam had seen her stop there several times just to enjoy the sculptures that were out front. He loved the sculptures as well, and seeing her admire them was one of his first memories of Rachel. She didn’t know it, but before their “meeting” in the library, he already knew who she was.
    With a spring in his step, Sam made his way out his door and across his lawn to the street. He looked at the phone in his hands and smiled at the cute picture of Rachel and her mom. They both looked so happy sitting side by side. Sam wondered if Rachel's mom was as smart as she was.
    The night air held a small chill and Sam quickened his step, hoping that moving quickly would warm him enough that he wouldn't be shivering when he finally caught up with Rachel. He caught himself smiling—excited that he’d be able to see her again. He hoped she would be happy to see him too.
Chapter Five
    SHE’S SO PREDICTABLE, Kurt thought to himself.
    Kurt Sully, football defense lineman, hid behind one of the sculptures outside of the library, watching Rachel's form walk down the street. Her black silhouette cast a long shadow, illuminated by the yellow-gold of the street lamps above her. Kurt had been at Sam's party, seen Rachel and knew she would be heading home sooner than later. He'd hot-footed it out to the sculpture garden to wait at a spot he knew he would be hard to see in the daytime, and especially so at night.
    Kurt had always disliked Rachel. She was a goody-two-shoes know-it-all and he hated that about her almost as much as the looks of contempt she gave him. Rachel was one of those girls that turned their noses up at guys like Kurt. As hard as he tried, no matter how big he got or how many tackles he made, he couldn't get the smart pretty girls to like him.
    Kurt got that he wasn't attractive by any means, having the face of a snubbed-nosed pig rather than an angel. Guys like Sam looked like fucking James Dean in their varsity jackets, while guys like Kurt looked like big thugs with varsity letters.
    Maybe it was just his luck, or his place in life, or his destiny, or whatever that girls like Rachel wouldn't talk to him, wouldn't give him the time of day, but he was over it. Kurt was sick of Rachel's discriminating looks and it was time to put her in her place.
    Rachel thought she was so special, so above it all. Her aloof attitude wouldn't help her tonight, Kurt thought, and he was going to make sure of it.
    Kurt hadn't really given the possible ramifications of his actions much thought. He had shown a couple of girls that had been walking home how good it could be with him and, even though they had cried, he knew they liked it. How could they not? They always liked being fucked, eventually.
    Somehow nothing had happened to Kurt—no street justice or police detective knocking on his door. Kurt had a secret weapon, a strong left hook. Kurt being a southpaw was something only boxers or street fighters really took note of, so he had the element of surprise on his side. Not only that, but Kurt knew how to throw a punch and had no qualms hitting a girl so hard he knocked her out.
    Once they were out, they weren't enough conscious to see what was going on, or really know what had happened except by putting the pieces together. Most of them were so drunk they could barely see anyway, and Kurt suspected Rachel was in the same condition.
    Rachel walked steadily down the hills sidewalk, to the front of the library, and stopped. She was at the point where, if she continued forward without stopping to admire the sculptures, Kurt would have to take action to intercept her or there was the possibility that she could sprint straight away from him.
    As a defense lineman, Kurt wasn't exactly fleet of foot so he was ready to take action, his whole body tensed, when she slowly came to a halt and turned to admire the sculptures.
    The sculpture garden itself was about fifty feet long by thirty feet wide and filled with all types of sculptures.