Romance Novel Reviews

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Finally Lisa toweled her hair until it was just barely damp and turned to pick up her underwear. It was then, stooping and reaching, that she saw the two men.

They wore uniforms and they had been watching her. That much was clear at first glance. Lisa colored, snatching up the towel again and holding it in front of her in an effort to hide her body from their avid gazes. The fixed way they were staring at her, the glazed intensity in their eyes, their very silence terrified her. She began to back away slowly. One of the men, thick featured and heavily built, moved after her. He looked vaguely familiar... The other man, younger and slimmer, moved too. They were stalking her.

Lisa's heart was pounding like a drum in her ears. She backed until she felt her foot touch the edge of the water, still clutching the towel before her like a shield. Desperately she glanced around, realizing that she had no place to run. The shallow creek offered no protection. Her only hope was that Riley had missed her and was even now nearby, looking for her. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she opened her mouth to scream. To her horror, only a strangled squeak emerged from her suddenly dry throat. At the sound, the apish-looking older man smiled. His eyes were very small, a pale, watery blue. His hair was whitish... Lisa stared at him with the same fascination she would have shown a cobra. Then, as he took another step toward her, she turned to run. Instantly they were upon her.

She could have screamed then. As soon as their hands closed on her body, clutching hurtfully at her naked shoulders and waist and arms, she felt the sound welling hysterically in her throat. But it never got a chance to come out. A sweaty palm clapped over her mouth, stifling any outcry. Lisa kicked and clawed and squirmed frantically as she was swung right up off her feet and carried some fifteen feet from the water's edge, where the tall grass swayed gently in a shaggy, golden carpet. Then she was borne toward the ground, still struggling with a strength born of terror, the salty-tasting hand still covering her mouth.

As she felt the grass prickle gently against her bare back, she braced her feet and lunged upward in a desperate bid for freedom.

"What's-a matter, babe? Ain't we handsome enough for you?" the white-haired man sneered breathlessly as she was thrust back down with ludicrous ease. Immediately he dropped on top of her, his weight knocking the breath from her lungs. Lisa's nails went with unerring instinct for his eyes.

"Grab her hands!" he bellowed, and the younger man hurried to comply, laughing as he dragged Lisa's arms over her head.

"No, no, no!"...

"That's better." He grunted approval of her apparent surrender, his hand moving to fumble with his zipper. Lisa's mouth was suddenly free and she opened it to scream. The sound was silenced by his mouth, fetid and slimy as it closed on hers, his tongue thrusting hotly between her teeth. His hands found her breasts, pinching roughly at the delicate pink nipples. Lisa thought despairingly that with his strangling of her scream she had lost her last change. Still her body writhed in protest, her bare back and buttocks scraping painfully over the ground. Then, horribly, she felt the touch of his hot, throbbing maleness against her inner thigh.

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"Would you please let go of my wrist?" she asked with icy politeness. "You're hurting."

...He laughed unpleasantly; one arm contined to clamp her to him while his other hand came up to capture her unwilling chin. With ridiculous ease he turned her face up to his. Lisa knew what he meant to do, knew what direction his revenge would take, but she was powerless to prevent him. Against his strength she felt like a little child. He smiled down at her tauntingly, clearly reveling in her helplessness. Lisa stood rigidly as he slowly lowered his mouth to hers, her fists clenched against his chest, her every muscle stiff with outrage.

He kissed her roughly, hurting her, seeming to want to hurt her. Lisa suffered his prying invasion of her mouth because she could do nothing else. But when his hand slid up under her shirt and bra to close on her bare breast, she began to fight him, her legs kicking at his shins.

He laughed exultantly as her nipple hardened in instinctive reaction to his massaging palm. His mouth moved away from her bruised lips to ravage the silken cord of her neck.

"Come on, baby, beg me," he muttered outrageously against her skin. "You just might be able to talk me into giving it to you again..."

Lisa gasped. Rage and humiliation combined to give her an extra measure of strength as she fought to be free. He controlled her struggles easily. When at last she stood quietly in his hold, panting and subdued but still rigid with fury, his hands began a slow, insolent exploration of her body. He watched her as he stroked her most intimate places with a familiarity designed to be offensive. Lisa quivered with mortification; her eyes flashed disgust at him.

"I hate you," she whispered finally, as the fingers of one big hand searched for and found the secret recesses of her body. "No!"

This last startled cry came as his hands left their occupation to cup her buttocks, lifting her from the ground. Then they slid down to close on the backs of her upper thighs, parting her legs so that he stood braced between them. Off balance, her hands instinctively clutched at his shoulders. Before she had quite registered his intention, he thrust inside her. Then it was too late.

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