Page 52 of Securing Samantha

He took her hand. “I want to make love to you, Samantha. I’ve dreamed of holding you in my arms like I did the night before I left you.”

She led him toward her room. The open curtains provided enough light to shine through the room, he saw the shape of her body but not her face. She pulled the covers down.

“I don’t know where to touch you,” she murmured.

“I don’t care. I want the feel of your hands on me. Doc tested me. Obviously, I didn’t have sex in the desert, but I don’t carry any diseases.” She seemed to momentarily pause at his words.

“I’ll be right back.” She left the room and returned to hand him a condom. He laid it next to the nightstand. He lifted her sweater over her head, his fingers traced the lacy bra she wore. He loved her in lingerie and encouraged her to buy it. He smiled at the thought she still wore it for him.

Samantha tentatively placed her hands on his shirt and began unbuttoning. Her hands slid the shirt off his shoulders. The unease concerning the marks on his body and the hanging flesh left him as he realized how much he missed her. His hands tugged on her jeans to undo the button and he slid them over her bottom. He wished he could see the color, but instinctively knew the panties matched her bra. He felt the lace along her hip as he gently traced her outline. He knelt down, helping her remove her jeans and shoes and socks.

Her hands lightly rested on his shoulders as he bent to his task. He kissed the side of her hip as he clasped her waist. He laid his head on her belly; her hands cupped his head as she gently massaged his scalp. He inhaled her scent. The simple gesture made him feel loved. It didn’t matter he carried scars; he was hers. He closed his eyes enjoying the feel of her in his hands. He kissed her hip and slowly slid her panties to the floor before standing.

Samantha remained quiet and in the back of his mind, he felt something seemed off. He pushed it aside. He wanted and needed this time with his wife. His fingers traced her sides and the delicate mounds, sending a shiver through her. He massaged the back of her neck and slipped the straps from her bra down before reaching around and unclasping it. He placed little kisses along her shoulder, and she tilted her neck to allow him to explore the area before he made his way along her jawbone. He felt the wetness of her tears and kissed them from her face.

Guessing she felt this precious moment as much as he did, he led her to the side of the bed and encouraged her to lie down while he removed the rest of his clothing.

He heard her sniff. Guilt hit him at how much he neglected her needs and he promised himself he’d do better. He scooted in beside her. She turned to her side facing him. He moved to face her. His fingers stroked her hair lightly as he relished the intimacy of the moment with the barely lit room. He took his time, remembering how he loved her hair spread out around them when they made love.

“I don’t know how long I’ll last, it’s been a long time. I feel like I’ve come home,” he whispered. She sniffed again. He wished the light shined on her face. He wanted to assure her he’d make everything right. Tomorrow morning, when he helped her pack her things, he’d make a point of telling her of his plans and where she and LJ fit in his life, leaving no doubts in her heart or mind.

Tonight, he needed to feel her next to him while he slept. At first, he felt terrified at the thought. What if he hurt her while caught in a dream? He’d never forgive himself. From the moment she shaved him, he knew she brought him the peace he craved. Whiskey felt guilt run through him at how he callously threw those words at her about suffocating him. Sending her divorce papers without any discussion because he thought she deserved better. He never once asked about her needs and expectations.

The tips of his fingers traced her arms, her collarbone and down to her full breasts. His thumb ran over her nipple, and she moved into it, encouraging him. Something about her silence threw him off, but he imagined her feelings overwhelmed her as much as his own. He kneaded her hip before guiding her onto her back. His mind flashed back of other times they made love. How he caressed her until she begged him to take her. He tickled her with his whiskers to make her laughter fill the room. Now he realized love surrounded them then. Now uncertainty and worry filled the air. He vowed to bring back the love, laughter and security for her. She’ll never doubt his love for her again.

His hand lingered over her blonde mound. He smiled on how she meticulously kept herself ready for him. He never liked her bare. He loved running his fingers through her neatly trimmed mound before delving into the silken folds. Allowing him to feast on her for hours. He promised to go slower next time. His eagerness to feel her overwhelmed him. The skill of patience left him after his abduction. But for her, he’d learn it all over again.

He stroked her center. His eyes closed as he enjoyed her cream that coated his fingers. She stroked his chest. Her fingers found one of the scars and she leaned close to place a kiss on the wound. As if by magic, the puckered area didn’t seem as tight. Her hands ran down his length and he reveled at the feel of his hardness and her hand gripping him.

Whiskey ripped the condom wrapper, rolling it down on himself. He raised his body over hers. “Hi, Sunshine,” he whispered.

She lost it at his words. She sobbed as he entered her. He slowly moved inside her. Each thrust deeper and slower as he held her tightly.

She cupped his face, and he heard her whisper, “I’ll always love you, Liam “Whiskey” O’Neil.”

She climaxed quietly other than the sob that ripped from her lips. He closed his eyes as the orgasm hit him and he pushed deeply into her.

Whiskey kissed her nose, her wet cheeks and finally brushed her lips. He lifted himself off her and went to rid himself of the condom. Samantha lay curled up toward the opposite side of the bed. For a moment he thought she’d fallen asleep. He threw his legs under the covers and scooted close to her. He pulled her body into his chest as he inhaled the scent of her hair. He kissed the tip of her ear. “I’ve missed the feel of you next to me. You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered.

Samantha struggled to sit up on the edge of the bed and he reluctantly let go of her, thinking she needed to use the bathroom.

Her hair fell over her left shoulder as she clutched the blanket to her. He watched the view of her back hesitantly, unsure why she sat there.

“Did you say that to the woman at the bar?”

He halted at the tone of her voice.

“What?” he asked her hesitantly. His heart sped up; his brain warned him he wouldn’t like what came next.

“I asked if you told the blonde at the bar how much you missed the feel of her?” she calmly repeated.

Panic seized him. He went to the bar to prove to himself he stood a chance to get back the life he lost. He could enjoy a beer with the men, handle the noise, and the crowds. He forgot about the woman.

“Samantha, let me explain…I?—”

“No, Whiskey. I sat through weeks of therapy. Did you ever stop to think how the shock of seeing you affected me? I saw you and you barely touched me. You pulled me away from Leo the first day I saw you. That was the only contacted you initiated to touch me. I understand you must’ve gotten a shock too. Then you walked off and left me in the yard. I cried at the sight of you because I missed you terribly. My heart shattered when Leo told me how my strong, loving husband died and I didn’t get to tell you goodbye because your body remained God knows where in little bits, from the explosion. Giving birth to a little boy who held your eyes reminded me I didn’t get any choice but to push through my grief because I held the only piece of you left. Then to find you sitting in the cabin…I can’t explain it. I felt like I came alive again. I wanted to feel you wrap your arms around me and tell me we’d work through everything like we always did. You went to the damn closet and stayed. You sat there while Claire basically ordered me away. The woman who loved you more than life itself. I forced myself to do it thinking they knew how to help you, while I remained utterly useless.

Whiskey sat up on the bed. His body rigid as she described her feelings.

---