Never A Choice (The Choices Trilogy (Book 1))

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Authors: Dee Palmer

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BOOK: Never A Choice (The Choices Trilogy (Book 1))
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Never A Choice (The Choices Trilogy Book # 1)

Copyright © 2015 Dee Palmer

Published by Dee Palmer

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in an form, including but not limited to electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase to, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

Warning: This story is on the filthy side of smut and isn’t suitable for those who don’t enjoy graphic descriptions that are erotic in nature, but for those that do, enjoy ;)

This story is the first part of three books but can be read as a standalone. I just hope you will want to read more.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Acknowledgements

Choices Playlist

About The Author

Always A Choice

For My Husband—All My Love, Always

Four Years Ago

“YOU’RE AN IDIOT!” John jerks me up his back to get a bit more comfortable and I grip a little with my thighs to prevent me slipping back down before he repeats. “You’re an idiot for working tonight with a busted ankle.

“Says the idiot carrying me half the mile home at one in the morning.” I kiss the soft hairs on the back of his neck and smile against his warm skin. He smells of fresh cut wood and mint from a recent shower.

“It’s bad enough you have to work on a school night but you needed to rest, it’s like a freaking balloon now.” He lifts my leg but the dim street lamp fails to highlight his argument as my ankle is covered in my jeans and hidden in the shadow of the dark night. He’s not really mad, he’s never really mad and he sighs as I rest my chin n his shoulder and my arms just hug him a little tighter.

“I need to work and it looks worse than it is.” He grumbles under his breath and continues to walk me home, well, carry me home. He meets me each night after I work late at my local pub. It’s a small village pub and I do a little cooking in the evening, serve the food and help behind the bar. It’s not strictly legal but I’m not likely to tell, I need the extra money and the late nights are better paid. It’s the only thing John and I ever argue about, I won’t take his money and he thinks Kit, my sister, should contribute more. He gets no argument from me there but he works just as hard. His money is going toward a place of his own because his Dad has given him notice to quit like some troublesome tenant. He needs every penny and at least I still have a home. He shifts again and I can feel the tension in his shoulders, this is the second time he has carried me today. The first was when it happened, when I decided to throw myself off the eight foot stone wall.

For the last seven years when my mum was happy enough to let me wander a little further afield John and I would do just that. Miles and miles of footpaths and bridleways, fields, riverbanks and woodlands we explored together and I only ever had the vaguest sense of where we were. I was always in a state of constant surprise that we had managed to find our way home. John would tell me I shouldn’t really leave the house without a ball of string tied to my front door but I didn’t need the string, I had John and he always knew where we were and where we were going. He had given me a leg up so I could grab the top of the wall and using his shoulders I just manage to pitch myself up and sit on the top. He told me to wait, he told me not to jump and he told me he still loved me even though I had jumped and twisted my ankle so bad he had to carry me home. After nearly three miles across the fields he also told me I was a Dumb-Ass.

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, John carefully lowers me to my feet by my back door. The house is quiet but my mum has left the kitchen light on which filters a warm glow across his soft dark features. He is frowning and I know it has nothing to do with how much his back is probably hurting. “I hate that you have to work Boo. I hate it might affect your studies.” He is holding my gaze and his eyes are serious and pained.

“I know, but it won’t, I won’t let it. I know how important-.” I don’t finish because he huffs in frustration. I reach my hand to his cheek, his smooth skin hidden beneath his evening stubble. I try to ease his tension and get a smile from his lips by covering them with my own. I am bolder with him now and the tender touch is quickly consumed with pent up passion that is slowly destroying me and driving me insane. I turned sixteen at the end of the summer, it’s nearly Christmas and he is almost seventeen. I kind of thought he would be just as eager as me to experience each other in a way we had promised. I had the briefest meltdown when I thought that at best he had the patience of a saint or at worst he just didn’t think of me that way. I was very wrong on both counts and he assured me he thought of me that way every second of every day but he wanted to wait. He wanted to make sure I was ready and not just because I had reached a legal age and I know he knew I
was
but he also wanted it to be perfect. He had saved his wages over the months and had bought the raw materials to fashion a unique promise ring. A smooth band of silver looped in a heart that was beautifully distorted to look like the symbol for infinity and it had two shiny blue stones set where the metal crossed. He gave this to me on my birthday, his promise to me and I was so ready to give myself to him, as my promise to him. This weekend he was moving into his own place and had a special day planned. With no expense spared he promised but said that we would play the rest by ear, adding that he’d had enough self-restraint to last him a life time.

He groans against my lips and I can feel his smile against my mouth as he pushes my shoulder back trying to break away but I stretch my neck to try and keep the sweet contact a little longer. I let out a heavy sigh and mourn the loss of warmth when he finally succeeds with the separation.

“I’ll meet you after college tomorrow, now go get some sleep so you can study hard.” He kisses me once more but with fixed tight lips. It’s a definitive dismissal and I pout but he laughs and shakes his head at his own personal struggle to leave.

“I can’t wait for the weekend.” I whisper and grin when I hear him draw in a sharp breath.

He flashes his bright white smile, “Why? What’s happening . . . Ow!” He grips his ribs as I retrieve my finger from jabbing in his side.

“You’re an idiot!” I try to hold my narrowed eyed scowl but end up laughing with him. He steps back to me his body all hard with heat and muscle. He cups my face, his mint fresh breath kisses my skin when he whispers back, ‘me too’ and with one last kiss he starts to walk backwards down the path.

“I saved for this because although I know it’s just for one day, I want it to be special. I want to treat you like a princess.” His eyes are darker now because his face is in the shadow of the moonlight but I can feel his fire.

“It better not be just for one day.” I choose to misinterpret his meaning and am rewarded with a deep laugh as he chooses to misinterpret me.

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