Free A Silver Lining by Beth D. Carter Page A

come to the funeral,” she replied with a tinge of sadness echoing through her words. She allowed herself one moment to think of her mother before she cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. “She belongs with this room of forgotten memories."
    He reached out and took her hand. “It's okay to remember, Heather. Everything needs to be grieved."
    She yanked her hand back, fury filling her, choking her. “When my grandfather dies, I'm going to take everything in this room and burn it."
    Tristan stiffened, the tenderness in his face and body disappearing in an instant. “Why do ya gotta be like this? Every time someone shows you a bit of kindness or friendship, you throw a wall up."
    "What does it matter if I have a wall up or not? We're not exactly friends, Tristan."
    He sighed. “I want to be your friend, Heather."
    She crossed her arms. “I'll be your lover. I'll be your sex kitten and play all kinds of dirty little games. But don't ask me to be your friend."
    Tristan stared at her for a minute, and she could see a thousand different emotions sweeping across his face. Everything from pity to hate to acceptance all blended together, and she knew in that instant he would accept her proposal, though he may not have known it yet himself. He wanted her. She could feel it every time he approached her. And she wanted him too. Tristan had always been in the back of her mind, a teenage fantasy, and here they were, twenty years older and able to act on those old feelings.
    She dropped her arms and stepped closer to him, sliding her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, pushing her breasts against his hard chest. The flame that always existed between them leaped to life. She heard his breath quicken. Beneath her palms, she felt his chest rise and fall quickly as his heart hammered. He grabbed her arms, halting her, staring at her with an equal mixture of lust and hate. She wet her lips with her tongue. That little gesture made him capitulate. He groaned low in his throat and hauled her into his body. One hand curved around the back of her head, holding her steady as he dominated her mouth with his. The kiss wasn't soft; it gave no quarter. It demanded, it took. Desire swept over her, wiping out everything. Her world narrowed to focus on him, his rage and his appetite.
    He pushed her against the wall as his lips trailed down her neck. He pushed her shirt up, his fingertips brushing lightly over her skin, traveling upward until he reached her breasts. She hissed and arched her back, thrusting more into his hands. He moved the bra up to expose her, his thumb flicking lightly over her nipples. When he tried to move his mouth to them, her clothing got in the way. Impatiently, he swept the shirt and bra over her head, throwing them carelessly on the floor somewhere behind them.
    "You drive me crazy,” he muttered, just before his mouth fastened on her right nipple. His right hand started kneading her left breast, his fingers rolling the taut nipple. Heather threw her head back, her body tensing at the unbelievable sensations radiating up from her groin.
    Tristan was a man possessed. His other hand moved to her legs, pushing them wide to fit his body between them. His hand swiped over her overly sensitive pussy, causing her to jump in surprise from the friction of the rough material pushing back.
    Impatiently he unzipped her jeans, pushing them down her legs before picking up her naked body to hold against his. Heather felt her juices start to run as one hand slid between them, a finger sliding deep within. In and out he finger fucked her, finding the fleshy nub of her pleasure spot and rubbing it over and over as he bit and licked her neck and mouth.
    She splintered. Stars popped into her eyes. The world tilted on its axis. She was only vaguely aware of him moving his own clothing aside.
    There, against the wall, he pushed his hard cock into her. He gave her no mercy, no finesse, only the most fulfilling moment of her life as