Page 73 of The Girls of Pearl Harbor
‘You do?’ He laughed. ‘They joke that this place is like being sent to the asshole of the world. You’re not supposed to like it.’
She bristled, wondering how he could make such snide remarks. Where had the charming man she’d been with earlier disappeared to? ‘Maybe it’s different for us, because we’re not fighting. It’s hot and sticky—I’ll give you that—but it’s a whole new world to explore here, and the people are lovel—’
Peter didn’t give her a chance to finish. He stopped walking, his breathing heavy, the stale smell of too much alcohol and lingering cigarettes on his breath as his mouth collided with hers. She’d been midword, trying to talk to him, and suddenly his lips were hard against hers, his fingers digging into her waist as he held her.
‘Stop!’ she managed, fighting to move back from him. ‘Peter! You’re hurting me.’
He looked down at her, and she anxiously smiled up, wondering why he’d gotten so carried away. She knew she’d drunk too much, and maybe he’d done the same, but he’d acted like he was used to drinking alcohol.
‘You’re so pretty,’ he muttered, grinning at her as he reached to pull her closer again. ‘It’s nice to have something pretty to look at for once.’
The tiny hairs on Grace’s arms were suddenly alert as goose bumps spread like wildfire across her skin. The man who had seemed so exciting, so handsome, was suddenly making her feel afraid. Only minutes earlier she’d felt so grown up and in charge of her destiny, and now the only thing she felt was helpless. She glanced around, realizing how alone they were.
His eyes had been kind earlier, his gaze happy and dancing. But now she feared there was only one thing he wanted from her, and it wasn’t something she wanted to give.
‘I don’t feel so well,’ she lied, doing her best to give him a small smile. ‘Maybe we could go back inside?’
Grace glanced over her shoulder. The music was blaring from inside—so even if she tried to scream, no one would hear her.
‘Let’s stay here a bit longer,’ he said, his fingers digging into her skin again as he forced her closer, making her hips touch his.
Bile rose in her throat as he tried to press his lips to hers again.
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Please, no. Let me go back inside.’ She hated the whimper in her tone and the shake in her legs, but Peter was a big, tall, strong man, and she knew there was no use in fighting him.
He laughed. ‘Come on—let’s have some fun. You were happy being with me before. I just want a little kiss, and I bought you those drinks, didn’t I?’
Grace turned her face. ‘You weren’t like this before. I want you to stop!’
He grabbed a handful of her hair and forced her face to turn back, his smile cruel. ‘I’ll stop when I’m ready. You have no idea what it’s like being here, what I’ve been through. I just need some lovin’.’
He forced his mouth on hers again as tears started to fall, as she gasped and fought against him, her hands pounding at his chest to get him to stop.
‘I do!’ she sobbed. ‘I save men every day! I know what you go through—I do, I do!’
‘Shhh,’ he muttered, his eyes dark now as he ripped at her jacket, sending the buttons flying as she struggled against him.
This is not happening to me. This is not happening!Grace cried out as he tried to stick his hand down her shirt and touch her breasts, slapping at his hands and kicking out, fighting with everything she had.
‘Stop!’ she screamed. ‘Stop it!’
Peter’s hold on her was painful, and he turned her around, one arm choking her as he pinned her against him, his hot, sticky breath against her cheek as he ripped at her skirt, tearing it as he yanked it up.
‘Please.No,’ she sobbed as the distinctive jingle of his belt being undone echoed, as he fumbled with his trousers, telling her exactly what was about to happen.
‘Help!’ she sobbed as his grip on her tightened, as his arm choked the sound from her and he pressed into her from behind.
His arm loosened enough for her to breathe, but only for the split second it took him to grab her hair, his fistful almost pulling it from the roots as he bent her over.
‘Get your hands off her!’
The yell came at the same moment as her hair was released and she tumbled forward, her face smashing into the dust as she hit the ground. Her hands almost broke her fall, one palm colliding with a rock.
A grunt behind her sent her scrambling, tripping over her own feet as she tried to escape, half crawling, half walking from her attacker.
But she needn’t have worried. As she attempted to cover herself with her torn clothes, Peter lay on the ground while a familiar figure punched him over and over again, his fists slamming into Peter’s face.
She cried when she realized there was nothing she could do to preserve her modesty, her skirt pulled back into place but with a big rip, her stockings torn, and her shirt gaping open along with her jacket.
