Chapter Eighteen: Samantha

She bit her lower lip as he rubbed his thumbs over her taut nipples. The sensation sent waves of pleasure through her body, and she arched into his touch, craving more.

Henry lowered his head, replacing his fingers with his mouth. His tongue swirled around one nipple, teasing her flesh.

Samantha gasped, her fingers tangling in Henry's hair as his mouth worked magic on her sensitive skin. Each flick of his tongue sent sparks of pleasure coursing through her body. She arched her back, pressing herself closer to him, desperate for more contact. Contact she had craved since the first time they touched each other. She could see it now.

Because meeting his bear had made everything crystal clear. As if the clouds had lifted and the sun had shone through. And Henry was her sun, warming her skin, waking her soul where it had been dormant since Donald died.

Henry's hand slid down her stomach, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her jeans. He looked up, seeking permission in her eyes. Samantha nodded, her breath catching as Henry slowly unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down her legs.

She kicked them off, suddenly feeling exposed in her lacy underwear. But the way Henry looked at her, with such reverence and desire, made her feel beautiful and cherished. As if she were the most important person to ever walk the planet. That look might be more arousing than the touch of his hands on her heated skin.

He stood up, quickly shedding his jeans and boxers. Samantha swallowed hard as she took in the sight of him fully naked. He was beautiful, like the statue of an ancient god.

But he wasn't a statue. He was alive, flesh and blood, heat and desire.

He placed his hand on her knee, and eased her thighs apart, before dropping to his knees and scooping her up, positioning her so her bottom was on the edge of the bed.

Cradling her ankles in his hands, he gently spread her legs wider, his eyes locked on hers as he lowered his head. Samantha's breath caught in anticipation as Henry's warm breath ghosted over her inner thighs, sending shivers up her spine. He placed soft, teasing kisses along her skin, working his way higher with agonizing slowness. Samantha's fingers gripped the bedsheets, her body taut with anticipation.

At last, his teeth grazed her most sensitive flesh through her panties, and she gasped, squirming beneath him. He lifted her ankles one at a time, placing them over his shoulders before he continued his assault, licking and sucking her through the lace.

Samantha's head fell back, a low moan escaping her lips as Henry's talented tongue worked through the thin fabric. The sensation was maddening—so close to what she craved, yet not quite enough. The sensation was exquisite torture, building her desire to an almost unbearable level. She arched her hips, silently begging for more.

As if reading her mind, Henry hooked his finger around her panties and pushed them aside, slipping his finger inside her. Samantha gasped at the sudden intrusion, her body tensing briefly before melting into his touch. Henry's finger moved slowly, exploring her depths with gentle care. While he worked his fingers inside her, his mouth found her most sensitive spot, his tongue circling and teasing as his finger continued its rhythmic motions.

The dual sensations sent waves of pleasure coursing through Samantha's body. She arched her back, pressing herself closer to Henry's talented mouth and fingers. Her breath came in short gasps as the tension built within her.

Henry added a second finger, curling them inside her as his tongue continued its relentless assault on her most sensitive areas. Samantha's fingers tangled in Henry's hair, holding him close as her hips began to move in rhythm with his ministrations.

The pressure built inside her. She was so close, and she whimpered as he stroked her inner walls, finding just the right spot, which tipped her over the edge.

She bit down on her bottom lip, swallowing down her cries, not wanting to wake the children as her orgasm took hold of her. Henry was unrelenting as he used his free hand to push her panties aside and licked her naked flesh.

She trembled as waves of pleasure washed over her, Henry's skilled tongue and fingers prolonging her ecstasy. As the intensity of her orgasm ebbed, Henry placed gentle kisses on her inner thighs.

Then he gently eased her legs down from his shoulders and slipped his arm beneath her, sliding her up onto the bed as he moved a pillow under her head.

He smiled down at her, a look of triumph in his eyes as he slipped his hand down over her stomach and teased her sensitive flesh, awakening her desire once more.

Samantha reached down and curled her fingers around his shaft. Two could play the teasing game.

Henry's breath hitched as Samantha's fingers wrapped around him. She stroked him slowly, relishing the feel of his hard length in her hand. His eyes darkened with desire as she explored him, her touch both tentative and bold.

Slowly, deliberately, he lowered himself over her, bracing his weight on his forearms. Samantha's hand was trapped between their bodies, still grasping him and guiding him to her entrance, her eyes locked on his.

He entered her, slowly, inch by inch, filling her as her inner muscles gripped him.

Henry's eyes never left Samantha's as he slowly pushed into her, and she savored every sensation, gasping softly as her body stretched to accommodate him. The feeling of fullness, of completeness, was overwhelming.

When he was fully sheathed inside her, Henry paused, rocking his hips gently as he lowered his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth. She tensed around him, and dug her fingers into Henry's back, tracing the ridges of his muscles.

Each movement he made sent ripples of pleasure through her, and she clung to him, drawing him closer, pressing her breast farther into Henry's mouth as he continued to tease her nipple with his tongue.

Samantha's breath came in soft, ragged gasps as Henry took his time, as if they had eternity to explore each other's pleasure.

But as tension coiled with her, she did not want to wait for eternity. Rocking her hips, she set the pace, and Henry matched her rhythm, thrust for thrust. Their bodies moved together in perfect synchronicity, as if they had been made for each other.

Which they were. She knew it deep in her soul.

Samantha wrapped her legs around Henry's waist, drawing him even deeper. The change in angle sent sparks of pleasure shooting through her body, and she moaned softly against Henry's neck.

Henry's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent as their shared pleasure built. Samantha matched his rhythm, her hips rising to meet each of his movements. Until he tensed and groaned, jerking his seed inside her, filling her with his essence, setting off a chain reaction that took her over the edge.

They moved together, small intimate movements that prolonged their ecstasy. But at last, the heat faded, and they lay in each other's arms, fully sated. There were no words for what they had shared.

As their breathing slowly returned to normal, Henry gently rolled to his side, bringing Samantha with him. They lay facing each other, legs intertwined, bodies still intimately connected. Henry reached up to stroke her cheek, his touch tender and reverent.

Whatever this was between them was new, exciting, and yes, scary. But it was so right, as if fate had drawn them together.

As they lay together beneath the covers, her eyes closed, and sleep took her. A sleep where she walked in the mountains with a bear by her side, her fingers entwined in its fur.

***

She woke. For a long moment, she stood staring at the window, as the first light of dawn crept over the mountains. Samantha blinked slowly, her mind still hazy with sleep and the lingering warmth of her dream. The soft light filtering through the curtains illuminated the dresser with photos of people she did not know, reminding her that this wasn't her bedroom. She was in Henry's cabin, in his bed.

A bed she had shared with him last night. Last night when they had made love. Her skin still tingled from his touch, her muscles ached from their lovemaking.

But the bed beside her held no warmth. Henry was gone, and he had been gone for hours.

She wrinkled her brow as she tried to grasp a hold of a thought that evaded her. No, not a thought, a memory.

She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest as the memory slowly took shape. In the hazy hours before dawn, she had felt Henry stir beside her. He had pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, whispering something about needing to go.

But go where?

She pressed her palm to her forehead. His phone. Yes, he'd received a phone call.

Was it the ranch? She'd only been half awake when he'd pressed a kiss to her shoulder and told him he'd see her later.

And that he loved her.

She rested her chin on her knees.

Henry Thornberg, a man she had known for a couple of days, loved her.

And she loved him.

She knew it as surely as she knew the names of her children.

But Henry Thornberg had gone. He'd left her in the dead of night after making love to her.

Samantha swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for her robe. Slipping her arms into it, she stood up and collected her clothes from where they had been discarded as Henry undressed her.

Now, that she remembered.

As Samantha gathered her clothes, her mind raced with conflicting emotions. The memory of Henry's passionate touch still lingered on her skin, but a knot of uncertainty formed in her stomach. She had given herself to him completely, and now he was gone.

But he had a good reason. She just could not remember it.

Samantha dressed quickly, her mind racing. She tried to quell the rising anxiety in her chest. There had to be a reasonable explanation for Henry's absence. He wasn't the type to love and leave—she was certain of that, even if their relationship was new.

As she made her way downstairs, Samantha caught sight of a piece of paper on the kitchen counter. She picked it up with trembling fingers and read:

‘My love, my mate,

I'm so sorry to leave like this. There's an emergency at the fire station. Duty calls. I'll be back as soon as I can. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen.

I meant what I said - I love you.

Henry'

An emergency at the fire station. Now she remembered the call he'd received. He'd kissed her before dressing, his movements impossibly fast, and then he'd left the bedroom, left her alone.

Panic gripped her. He wasn't back. Surely, he'd come back, or call, or text to let her know he was okay. She fetched her phone and double-checked there had been no calls or texts. None.

Perhaps he didn't want to risk waking her. That was reasonable.

Are you ok? x

She sent the text and filled the coffeepot while she waited for his reply. None came.

Feeling powerless, she went to the living room, coffee cup in hand, and switched on the remote, flicking through the channels until she found the local TV station.

Her mouth went dry. There was a blaze in Bear Bluff, the next town over. A big blaze. She kneeled in front of the TV, staring at the figures of the firefighters working on the blaze.

There. There was Henry. She was certain it was him.

But as she pressed her fingers to the screen, there was a loud explosion and the TV cameras panned away.

"No," she whispered hoarsely, the memory of the day she'd received the news that Donald was dead coming back to her.

And in that moment, she knew she could not be with a man who put himself in danger. It wasn't fair to her, it wasn't fair to the children.

But it wasn't fair to Henry to ask him to give up on the job he loved. The job, he said, was a calling.