The Only Choice (The Choices Trilogy #3)

by Palmer, Dee

  I shift in my seat under his intense gaze and start to chew my lip. “It’s not about my course.” I return his stare trying to gauge whether I am wholly out of line.

  “I gathered as much but really I think we are a little beyond the professional student professor relationship; well I would like to think so. I would like to think you consider me a friend and someone you could trust.” His kind words are just the encouragement I needed to hear.

  “It’s about Angel . . . I need some information . . . personal information.” He sits back with a frown but he raises a brow for me to continue. I don’t know how much to reveal. I don’t know how much he knows about the details of Daniel and Angels relationship. I know he doesn’t hold his ‘niece’ in the highest regard but that doesn’t mean Daniel would thank me for airing all his dirty laundry to someone he respects like a father. So with the care of navigating a minefield I try and explain why I need his assistance. “I believe she wants Daniel back and she is using their past and not in a good way.”

  “She is married Bethany are you sure about this?” He leans on his elbows his expression full of concern. I just widen my eyes and tilt my head in an expression that screams ‘yes pretty sure.’ He nods with understanding.

  “I think she is trying to use a tactical pregnancy to her advantage. It’s manipulative and cruel.” I can feel my voice shake.

  “Manipulative and cruel certainly sound like Angel and I know I am the last person besides Mrs W to think well of her the but even I would have trouble believing that she would do something so insidious as use a pregnancy against him. Besides being unlikely, why would Daniel go along with anything like that?” He lets out a puff of air and shakes his head in disbelief.

  “He thinks he owes her and won’t or can’t see beyond that. I’ve tried, believe me.” I emphasise these last words to try and highlight my exasperation. “I have tried to make him see what she’s doing is wrong but he is stubbornly blinkered when it comes to her.”

  “Ha! Yes that does sound like Daniel, stubborn to a fault.” He snorts but I interrupt him picking up on his last statement.

  “Wait, why would it be unlikely?” I lean forward and I can see the internal struggle flash across his face as he decides whether this question is one question too far. I panic because I don’t want to put him in that position and jeopardise this precious balance of friendship and trust. “Sorry Mr Wilson, I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t have to answer that.” I reach for my bag feeling suddenly intrusive and uncomfortable.

  “No, Bethany, it’s fine, really. It’s just that . . . she can’t have children.” He lets out a painfully heavy sigh. “I told you about Angels mother. She knew the infertility was genetic and despite the miracle of falling pregnant with Angel herself there were many many years of unbearable heartbreak and pain. She wanted to save Angel from that uncertainty, so she had Angel was tested when she hit puberty. Her mother didn’t want her to go through the anxiety of years of false hope.” He pauses, “I suppose with modern medicine, there is always the possibility of another miracle but I’m afraid it would have to be a miracle.” He looks sad and I don’t know whether that is because the story is sad, which it is or whether he is sad he told me.

  “Daniel doesn’t know this?” It is more of a statement than a question.

  “Very few people do and I would appreciate it if it remained that way.” I nod but I am trying to think how I can use this information. This changes everything and without the appropriate filter, I blurt out.

  “Do you have proof?” I screw my face up and cringe as I hear my harsh words and recoil at his shocked expression. “I’m sorry, God I’m so sorry Mr Wilson . . . forgive me but Daniel needs to know this and he won’t believe me, you have to tell him, he has to know.” My voice pitch rises with each desperate word not helped by Mr Wilsons slowly shaking head.

  “Bethany, I’m sorry that is not my tale to tell.” I can see the sadness in his eyes and as much as I want to shake him and beg and plead for his help I can see he feels remorse at telling me this much. My only small comfort is that I’m not crazy and my spiddy senses were spot on. I just have to find another way to prove it. I lean down to pick up my bag and walk round to his side of the desk; I lean down and kiss him lightly on the cheek.

  “Of course, I’m sorry I asked, please forgive me. I love him Mr Wilson, it clouds my judgement and my sensitivity. Thank you for all your help and I promise I won’t betray your confidence but if you do find a way . . . I’d appreciate Daniel learning the truth, before it’s too late.” I walk to the door and turn on the threshold, my soft words drift as I leave the door to close. “Because it’s not just about him anymore.” My brief moment of elation from discovering the truth is surpassed by the realisation that nothing’s changed and Angel still has Daniel exactly where she wants him, guilt wrapped around her bony finger.

  MARCO HAS BEEN working extra shifts for the last few weeks because he too wants to go travelling after the wedding. He has only just come back from his holiday with Rose so he really needs to earn some serious brownie points if he was going to be allowed more time off. The result is that I hadn’t seen him since our brief drink with Ethan, which made me think I hadn’t seen Ethan since then either, just a few texts and the odd phone call. I had spoken to him after Tom’s advice, specifically about my travel plans, as vague as they are. He has convinced me that travelling alone isn’t such a great idea but my options are limited. Ethan had agreed to start his travels to coincide with mine, beginning with a few of the more obscure European cities. I would really like to visit Malmo in Sweden because I have a new found love of Swedish TV crimes, maybe then head down toward Vienna, Budapest and then on to the Dalmatian Coast before heading further East. My original thoughts had been along those lines but now I think a few cities then a peaceful beach for a week or two would be heaven. So I will need to speak to Ethan about how that might fit with his plans. None of these plans have I mentioned to my non-boyfriend and significant other but at least his mention of taking me away means we are on the same page regarding needing a break. He is just unaware that I am intending paying a single traveller supplement when I go. I know he might not like it . . . who am I kidding, he will completely freak that I have kept this from him.

  My phone buzzes as my doorbell chimes.

  “Were your ears burning?” I chuckle as I answer Daniels call.

  “You are talking about me?” His deep voice flares my skin with a sprinkling of light standing hairs. “You have company?” He sounds confused and I realise Patrick must be outside. Something that only this morning would’ve had me spitting feathers but now I find gratefully comforting.

  “No company, just talking to myself.” I let out a light nervous laugh. “I haven’t lost it but I’m getting there. Can you hang on I just need to get the door?” I tuck the phone against my shoulder and cheek.

  “Sure, knock yourself out.” I hear the echo on the call as the open door reveals his tall frame leaning against the banister on the landing opposite my apartment. His grin is infectious but it doesn’t make me smile, it melts my core to liquid lust. I am acutely aware I haven’t been alone with him since our ‘first’ date, something my body reacts to rectify. I step toward him, holding my breath and sucking in my bottom lip like I can already taste his intoxicating scent on my lips. My fingers twitch with residual memory of his smooth rough skin over tight toned muscles, his eyes bore into me and I have to exhale to expel the building heat in my body. I know my libido has not exactly being playing nice but this is so much more and I feel it in my bones. When I took his call this morning I became enlightened. I understood with absolute clarity that above all, for him, it’s about me and that is utterly seductive and sexy as hell. I want to be consumed by him, I want his passion, his obsession. I want him to own me, mark me, and marry me. That is what I want now and I feel giddy with this self-discovery but unfortunately for the first time in my life I can’t count on the one person I need to, me. I just don’t tru
st myself. So for my sanity I just have to make sure this decision is the result of my brain and heart and not generated from somewhere lower. Until then I will have to keep this monumental revelation, to myself, for now.

  He pushes himself off the banister and meets me in the centre of the hall, towering and firm, radiating heat and power and I pool before him. Ironic but true, I try and remind myself only time away will give me the clarity and peace of mind to marry this beautiful man but right now, I just want to wrap myself around every inch of him. This is us, we have our own normal and we belong together. I am beyond frustrated that I still need proof of Angel’s deception but at least I know the truth. It is a start and what we have is worth fighting for. The intensity of his gaze sears my soul and I know in my heart he won’t ever let me go and I don’t ever want him to. As scared as his call this morning made me, I feel safe now. As perverse as his loyalty to Angel is I feel cherished now and as respectful of my wishes to keep his distance . . . I want him now. His hand cups my neck and tilts my head moving my face so his lips brush mine, his hold tightens and all air rushes from my lungs. Every hair, every nerve, every molecule crackles with latent lust and desire, poised to explode with his next touch and my heart hurts it is beating so hard.

  “What do you want Bethany?” The timbre of his deep breathy voice is pure and raw.

  “You.” My words are stolen from my lips with the force of his unyielding mouth. He pulls me roughly against his rock solid frame exerting enough pressure in his fingertips to mark me and I tremble with the pleasure this thought alone evokes but I want more. He sucks, pulls and bites my now swollen lips. His tongue dances and plunges, urgent and demanding, fierce, possessive and I love it. I return his passion and grip him just as tightly. He pinches his fingers into my hair and pulls me back breaking our connection, I gasp for breath. His eyes are feral but his grin is deliciously wicked.

  “Good answer.” He stoops and sweeps me up high on to his shoulder. His hard muscle and bone winding me as I fold over, dangling and hopelessly trying to steady myself with fistfuls of his clothing. His loud slap on my arse echo’s in the sparsely furnished hallway and I would be surprised if there wasn’t a person in the building that didn’t hear the noise closely followed by my surprised yelp.

  He kicks my bedroom door open and slams it shut with such force the lock rattles and a sharp crack of wood fracturing is heard but with surprising restraint he bends and plops me gently on to my bed. I fall back onto my elbows, my knees slightly bend and my legs tremble as I hold the semi closed position fighting my wanton need to spread before him. He stands motionless but his eyes move slowly from my toes up my body, scorching with the blatant desire and my skin reacts in his wake as if teased by his feather light kisses, sensual and seductive. I wonder if I will ever cease to be shocked by his ability to draw such violent erotic reactions with barely a single touch. He slips his jacket from his shoulders and carefully folds and places it on the corner my bed and with a deliberate measured pace he starts to un button his shirt, with each pop I feel my heart beat jump a little faster, my panting breath a little sharper and a little more moisture pools inside.

  “Still need a little space?” His voice is deep, his tone is light but I can see the seriousness of his words in his slightly narrowed eyes. I shake my head. We still have a heap of shit to deal with but one thing I am certain of, at least at this moment, is I do not want a little space. I want no space, I want negative space. “Answer the question Bethany?” His dominant growl causes a delicious shiver to flash across my skin.

  “No Sir.” I swallow and lick my dry lips, my voice is a raspy whisper. His shirt is open and he has unclipped his belt so his suit trousers have dropped to hang low, revealing the dusting of dark hair that gathers to from a slightly darker line of hair dipping below his belt. My eyes are fixed on his hovering hand, just at his zip which is curved with the bulge of his straining erection. His light chuckle makes me break my hypnotic gaze and meet his heated stare.

  “I’m going to make you beg.” He starts to draw the zip down and a small whimper escapes into my throat.

  I laugh to try and hide some of my desperation. “And I thought you liked a challenge.” He raises a curious brow. “Because that really isn’t going to take long.” Before he can make another move I sink back onto the bed and sigh, shamelessly pleading. “Please, please Daniel, please Sir, please, please fuck me.” My knees straighten and I drop my hand to rest on top of my panties with my middle finger just tucked under the elastic. I hear his groan and sneak a look to see him shed the last of his clothes. This is different, it is usually me naked whilst he is fully clothed. But he looks far from vulnerable, he looks potent, hungry and indecent or maybe I’m projecting. He kneels at the end of the bed, my toes touching his skin. This first skin on skin is all I can feel, this contact is the source of a wave of pure heat that ripples then spreads like a wildfire through my body.

  “Oh baby, that’s not begging.” His gruff voice and veiled threat is like a touch-paper to my incendiary desire. “Spread.”

  I hear his deep throaty groan as I spread my legs wide and he hears my higher pitched cry when he places his firm hands on the inside of my thighs, his fingertips pressing the crease where my thigh meets my most sensitive skin. His touch feels hot and solid and he presses the heel of his hands hard pushing me wider, holding the tension as my muscles rebel against the pressure. I squeeze my eyes shut absorbing the sensory overload, pain of muscles stretched to unbearable tension, sensitive folds spread wide, open, vulnerable, cooled with exposure and heated with his breath. So intimate and so fucking sexy I know I am going to shatter as soon as he touches me, however he decides to touch me. His dominant mode is unmistakeable. I decide to play it safe, I am in no state to endure his blend of sweet torture and I am not stupid enough to test his endurance. I would break in half before he would even break sweat.

  “Please Daniel may I come?” My voice is shaky and I curse that my body is so fucking sensitive and more so, that I can’t tell him why. He looks up with a curious expression and I shrug as if I am just as curious.

  “Really?” His surprise is genuine, mine is more resigned.

  “Really, I’m sorry but really, please may I come?” I can feel my face flash with colour and I am glad that my body has the grace to be embarrassed at how easy I am. He laughs and his breath blasts my core and causes me to jump his fingers grip in reflex, holding me immobile.

  “Interesting . . . but no need to apologise. I will try and not let it go to my head.” He quips but I laugh at his lame pun. “And since you remembered to ask, you may come. But don’t get used to having your own way baby because the rest of the night is mine.” He disappears low and I feel the electric pulse of his sweeping tongue as he drags it steadily along my folds and purses his lips over my core and sucks, deep and swirling pressure. My hips dig into the mattress and my back arches off the bed so far I am sure it is a perfect semi-circle. My fingers grip the sheet and my head is pressed into the pillow, all in instant, all shocking violent reactions to this cresting onslaught of pleasure. He holds me as my body shakes, shudders and falls, spiralling and riding wave after convulsive wave of exquisite erotic indulgence.

  “Fuck Bethany you are amazing, you taste amazing, you are so fucking amazing.” He pitches up and puts his arms either side of my torso leaning on his elbows so he is only barely above me. His heat almost as intense as his perfect blue eyes.

  I let out a deep satisfied sigh and snicker. “Having trouble with your adjectives Mr Stone.” I tilt my head and look around my room. “I know I’ve got a thesaurus somewhere, arghhh!” I squeal and wriggle as his fingers dart to my side below my ribs and dig and wiggle, ultimate torture.

  “No.” His lips are a hairs breadth from mine, his serious eyes penetrate and he stills, holding me secure. “My tongue has just been better employed fulfilling pleasure rather than forming eloquent words that would still fail to describe you or what you are to me.” His smile is breath
-taking and he looks rightly smug; his words far exceed any compliment, they are flawless. I tense my tummy muscle and pull myself to meet his lips but he smiles wide and shakes his head. “Ah ah Miss Thorne. Since you offer no challenge where begging is concerned let’s see how long before you are screaming for me to stop.” He grazes his teeth along the shell of my ear and down my neck before his sinks harder into the soft flesh. I let out a sharp cry of pain and a shiver of luxurious bliss that only comes with acceptance, I am his. His to torture, tease and tame, his to make beg, scream and his to mark. It’s hedonism, it’s heaven, it’s hell and I want it all.

  If I ever doubted he was a man of his word, it was proven irrefutable that late afternoon and early evening. He played my body like an artist bringing me to levels of heightened ecstasy I hadn’t the imagination to even dream. Every millimetre of my skin was stroked and teased, delighted and dazed I fell again and again, insatiable at first, demanding and needy morphed into docile assent as utter exhaustion crept into my muscles and bones. He moved inside me with brutal passion and tender adoration in equal measure holding back his own release until my muscles finally gave up there tentative hold of my bones and I sank limp but managed to mouth out the words, my begging words to stop. Our bodies once slick with heated sweat had cooled with his measured strokes but warmed again after my plea, he picked up his pace once more and with a few final deep thrusts and a unexpected change in angle and grind he threw his head back and growled as I join him in what I pray is the end of this marathon session.