Read Online Never A Choice (The Choices Trilogy (Book 1)) by Dee Palmer - Free Book Online

am not going to tell you and I have no intention of attending the other lectures we will just have to add this to the list of life’s’ little mysteries.” I go to retrieve my phone and I think my answer has taken him by surprise as he lets me take them from his hand. Our hands touch briefly and I actually make a physical jump at the intensity of feeling from this simple contact. Immediate, sudden, shocking. I hesitate then quickly turn and go to pull the door handle. In an instant the door is slammed shut with the weight of two large palms either side of my head. His hard body presses into my back holding me in place. He slowly sweeps his knuckles down the side of my cheek and slides his hand under my hair taking it away from my neck. The cool air created only intensifies the heat that is raging through my body, my breath is rapid shallow gasps and I drop my head to the side to give him better access. I feel wanton. His fingers gently trace the curve of my neck round to my collarbone. I bite my dry lips to suppress a moan that’s desperate to escape. He pushes against me his lips lightly brush just below my ear and I think I can feel his erection brush against my arse, through the thin material of his suit. I have never had such a blatant sexual encounter and I guess I should feel shocked but I’m trembling. My head is swimming and thick with too much rushing blood, it could be fear but it feels a lot like white hot desire. I barely hear him whisper.
    “You are right. It is my business and unless I’m very much mistaken your attendance is mandatory and that, Miss Thorne makes you my business. ” He grips my hips as I make to move out of his hold, grinding gently. I find myself inexplicably pushing back against him, welcoming this slow erotic dance. I’m lost, my head drops to the door with a crack and the shock of pain breaks through this thick fuzz.
    “May I go now?” I can barely breathe.
    “May I go what?” He still has his lips pressed to my ear, his breath is warm and my body responds with an involuntary wave of prickles to my skin.
    “May I go . . . Sir.” I release the breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. He stands to move away and I sag slightly at this loss of connection.
    “Good girl. . . . . Yes you may leave.” His voice is low and commanding. “Oh and Miss Thorne,” I turn to see the heat and desire in his eyes, “I take my business very seriously. Until next time.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.
    “Yes Sir.” I pull the door so hard I nearly knock myself out in my rush to leave that room, that space, that man. The stale air in the corridor is stifling and I run to the main doors and burst out into the Quad gulping for fresh air before I faint. I have no idea what just happened in there but I do know I can’t let it happen again and next time I’ll tell him as much. I’ll just keep my distance when I do.

I HAVE HAD a number of lectures this week and none of them played out like the one with Mr Stone. The Lecturers have been enthusiastic and insightful, at worst some may be a little dull but none of them behaved like Mr Stone. I become more and more irritated after each lesson that I am unable to bring myself to participate. Even in Mr Wilson’s seminar where he positively encouraged me to engage. I really wanted to. I had something to say but every time I tried, I had this hideous flashback of hundreds of eyes silently staring at me, with pale faces of sympathy and relief. Relief it wasn’t them under the spotlight. My mouth dried and my throat felt like sandpaper. Mr Wilson looked with kind eyes and patted my hand at my failed attempt and deftly moved to someone else.
    By Thursday evening I was ready to put an end to my misery. I was ready to fight. Mr Stones’ second lecture would be very different, for me at least. I had my speech prepared, something along the lines of, ‘How dare he . . . Did he have any idea how insensitive . . . and something about being a