Beverly Barton 3 Book Bundle

“Tonight’s fine with me. Why don’t I call Mom and tell her that you and I are coming to dinner, and that afterward we plan to talk to Kevin about our relationship.”

“Thanks.”

“For what?” she asked.

“For being my friend.”

He couldn’t go to her until tonight. They would make love for the final time, and then he would say good-bye. She’d be heartbroken when he told her that he no longer loved her, but she wouldn’t be surprised. She had to know what a disappointment she’d been to him. Poor Thomasina. She had tried so hard, done everything he’d asked her to do, and yet she hadn’t measured up. None of them had measured up to his ideal. To his perfect woman.

Perhaps Abby would be different. She wasn’t classically beautiful the way some of the others had been, but she was lovely in a sultry, earthy way. And she was older, already thirty, but still young enough. And she had the kind of body that men had wet dreams about. He fantasized about sucking on her big tits. Licking, sucking, biting. Just the thought of her whimpering with pleasure and pain excited him. She was the type who would enjoy variety. Ass fucking. Blow jobs.

But he couldn’t begin his courtship, his seduction of Abby Miller, until he ended his relationship with Thomasina.

He sat and watched the students as they walked from the building, some preparing for another class, others heading for their vehicles. It was such a delicious little coincidence that Jacque and Stephanie had both attended the community college and that Thomasina had taught here. And now there was Abby, another night school student, who’d signed up for classes she seldom attended as a smoke screen to cover up her illicit affair.

He smiled, thinking about how the sheriff’s department was wasting time trying to figure out what it meant that all the victims were somehow connected to the college. He hadn’t deliberately set out to choose women who were students or even teachers at the school. But it had worked out to his advantage, giving the authorities a red herring.

If only Sheriff Granger and her hotshot chief deputy knew that there was a far more important reason they should be looking at Adams County Junior College than the obvious.

He would outsmart the local law just as he’d outsmarted the others—in Georgia, in Tennessee, in North Carolina, and in South Carolina. He was a smart man. He’d been a smart boy. But women didn’t appreciate men with brains, not any more than girls appreciated boys with brains.

Don’t go back there. Don’t remember what happened.

She had been the prettiest, most popular girl in school and he had worshipped her when she hadn’t even known he was alive. The first time she smiled at him, he’d nearly died on the spot. And when she spoke to him one day, he’d been speechless at first, and then tongue-tied. She’d been so sweet, so friendly, so nice.

He could see her clearly in his mind’s eye—slender and dark haired, with big brown eyes and a smile so warm that it could have melted the polar ice caps. She always wore pink lipstick and nail polish, not a gaudy hot pink, but a pale, ladylike shade. Even now, he could still smell her delicate perfume, a flowery gardenia fragrance. And he’d never forget the delicate gold ankle bracelet she wore every day, whether she was in slacks, shorts, or a skirt. Her parents had given her a string of real pearls for her sixteenth birthday, and whenever there was a special event at school where everyone had to dress up, she wore her pearls.

He had loved her with all the innocence and adolescent passion of an inexperienced sixteen-year-old boy. A virgin. A nerd. A bookworm.

Emotion tightened his throat. The memories were bittersweet. Ecstasy in the beginning, and then a torment beyond bearing in the end. Tears clouded his vision.

Her laughter echoed inside his mind. No matter how many years had passed, how hard he’d tried to forget, he could never escape that mocking laughter.

Thomasina lay beside him, as silent and still as death. After raping her in the anus with the wooden phallus until she’d wept from the pain, he had turned her over and taken her with brutal force. No matter how much she tried to please him, he was never satisfied. He punished her if she fought him and yet he punished her even when she obeyed his every command. He enjoyed tormenting her, derived some sadistic pleasure from hurting her.

In the quiet stillness, with her abductor asleep at her side, the sound of her own pleading voice echoed inside her head. She had told him repeatedly what he demanded to hear.

“I love you. I love you more than anything or anyone.Please make love to me.”

Cutting her gaze in his direction, she noted that his eyes were closed and his mouth was open. Lifting her head a few inches, she dared a closer glance at his handsome face.

Thomasina’s heartbeat accelerated. He was asleep. She was awake. Lifting up her arms, she stared at her unbound wrists; then she arched first one foot and then the other, reminding herself that she was not shackled.

Rising to a sitting position, she paused, took a deep, steadying breath, then gazed at his naked body. A perfect male body.

After easing her legs off the side of the bed, she placed her feet on the floor and sat there, her arms wrapped in a comforting hug around her bruised breasts. She had lost count of how many days he had held her prisoner in this underground hellhole. There was no way to tell day from night. Time had no meaning to her. She counted her life not by minutes and hours, but by the number of times he visited her. And with each subsequent visit, she lost more and more of herself to the fear of waiting and wondering when he would return. If only she could get away from this madman.

She rose to her feet and took a few tentative steps away from the bed.

He made an odd, snorting noise.

Her heart leapt to her throat. Terror zinged along her nerve endings. She glanced over her shoulder. He was snoring. Relief spread through her, relaxing her taut muscles.

Tiptoeing, she crept to the foot of the bed, then rounded it, her gaze fixed on the stairs that led to the only door, the only means of escape. But he kept the door locked, so what good would it do her to climb those stairs?

Suddenly she stepped on something lying on the floor. When she glanced down in the semidarkness, she saw his shirt and slacks crumpled in a heap where he’d discarded them. She lifted her foot, leaned over and stared at the small metallic object shining there on the cool concrete floor.

It’s a key.

Oh my God, the door key must have fallen out of his pantspocket when he took off his clothes.

Listening to the sound of his soft snoring, she assured herself that he was still asleep. Bending her knees, she crouched down, reached out and pinched the key between her thumb and forefinger. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears; perspiration coated her palms.

Her captor was sound asleep. She had the key to the door. If she could manage to climb the steps and unlock the door without waking him, she could escape.

For the first time since she had awakened in this dark, dank prison—days ago? weeks ago?—Thomasina felt that there was actually a chance she might get away, that she might live.

With the key in her hand and hope in her heart, she made her way across the room to the stairs. Before taking that first step upward, she paused and looked back at the snoring man. Lifting her foot, she hesitated; then when the stairs didn’t creak, she followed one cautious step with another, increasing her speed until she practically ran up the last few steps to the door. Trembling and sweating profusely, she narrowed her gaze on the door lock, then aimed the key at the lock. Her fingers quivered so badly that she almost dropped the key. Clasping it tightly, she shoved the key into the lock. Her chest ached. Her breathing came in ragged gulps. She smelled her own sweat mixed with the heavy odor of sex.

All she heard was her own breathing. All she saw was the key in her hand.

Turn the key, unlock the door and open it to the outsideworld. Then run like hell.

She turned the key and twisted the knob. The lock didn’t budge.

She turned the key in the opposite direction.

Click.

She emitted a whooshing breath of relief as she grasped the doorknob and turned it.

The door creaked as she opened it.

Damn!

Instinctively turning around to check and make sure the noise hadn’t awakened him, Thomasina gasped when she came face to face with her captor.

“Where are you going, darling?” he asked.

She whirled around and yanked open the door, trying her best to get away from him before he grabbed her. Thomasina stepped forward as she shoved on the door and managed to open it halfway before he grabbed her, flung one arm around her waist and pressed her back against his chest.

Screaming and crying, her instinct for survival strong, she fought him like a wildcat when he jerked her backward and slammed the door shut. There at the top of the stairs, he held her so tightly that she could barely breathe, held her as she wriggled and squirmed and clawed at him.

She’d been so close, had almost escaped.

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

Finally, when all the fight had gone out of her, he bent his head and kissed her shoulder. Then he bit her neck. She yelped in pain.