The Falls (The Searchers Book 3)

by Jessica Marting

  He sucked in a harsh breath, and at first she thought it was due to nervousness or her being bold enough to take off her blouse in front of him, until she saw her reflection in the looking glass on the wall. Her arm and shoulder were a map of deep blue and purple bruises. “Oh, damn,” she said, turning to the side so she could see the full extent of the damage.

  “Indeed.” Samuel’s voice was dry. “Let me check you for sprains.”

  “I didn’t know English lawyers studied medicine,” she said, but she let him gingerly prod around her shoulder. She cringed as his fingers poked a particularly tender area, but his touch was still gentle.

  A shiver coursed through her. Even if it hurt a little, she liked having his hands on her.

  “We don’t, but I have a basic understanding of field medicine thanks to the Searcher physicians. I assume American ones do, as well.” His voice had an oddly husky quality to it, and when their eyes met in the looking glass’s reflection, she thought she saw desire there.

  Or she could be imagining things. He seemed strangely discomfited over their kiss on the boat.

  She tried to keep their conversation professional, at least for his sake. “You’re assuming correctly, and I’d be doing the same thing if our roles were reversed. Ow!” That was right over her shoulder blade. His hand stilled but didn’t move from her skin. It prickled with awareness, something she was sure he picked up. She hastily continued. “But I think I’m just sore and bruised. Nothing’s broken or won’t heal over a few days.”

  His fingers drifted down her bare arm, and her breath stuttered at the contact. This time, when their gazes met in the looking glass, she could definitely see a spark of interest there, and knew hers had to be giving her own away.

  She remembered that kiss. He’d been good at it. She wanted to experience that again, this time without the threat of vampires or freezing water pouring down around them. Her eyes flicked to the bed, and any exhaustion she thought she was feeling before evaporated.

  She wanted to show him that life was still worth living, that what happened in London wasn’t his fault. That people and organizations could change and adapt, that he wasn’t a bad person. She wanted to kiss away those fears, and more.

  “Breakfast,” he said, snapping her out of her daydream. There was a rasp to his voice that hadn’t been there before.

  He’s just as affected as I am.

  “Beg your pardon?”

  “We haven’t eaten a proper meal since yesterday. Shall I have something delivered to our room?”

  He was right, of course. “Yes,” she said. “Just let me—”

  He shook his head. “I’ll handle it. I’m still presentable.” He let her go, and she already missed the contact. Her skin still tingled where he’d touched her.

  “Samuel, are you suggesting I’m not presentable?”

  He’d already crossed the room and had his hand on the doorknob. His gaze perused her, slow and lazy, and Violet’s belly clenched in anticipation. “No,” he said. “In fact, Violet, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look more … presentable.”

  Her breath hitched at his words.

  Almost as quickly as he’d said the words, his expression shuttered, as if he was just as shocked, and he left the room without saying anything else, closing the door behind him.

  Violet saw, in those seconds before and after he spoke, a hint of the man Ada told her about, who Samuel said he used to be. Not the arrogance, but a confidence he hadn’t shown her thus far. She liked it.

  She finished undressing and slid her nightgown over her head, wincing at the pain radiating from her arm as she did so. It would get worse before it got better, she decided, then draped a wool wrapper around her shoulders, and waited.

  For what?

  Samuel had kissed her once, and it was to protect their activities on the boat. He’d made one flirtatious remark, one that was out of character for the man she knew. There was likely nothing to look forward to, besides some breakfast.

  That notion depressed her a little, and she sighed. When was the last time a man paid her any attention?

  It was an easy enough question to answer: Violet had spent some time away at Smith College, beginning when she was nineteen. She’d had seven glorious months of freedom away from New York, the Searchers, and her father, before being summoned home when her father grew ill. Seven months to explore Massachusetts, a whole other world away from New York, and the ideas and people there.

  Including Geoffrey Bailey, the first man she was ever besotted with and hoped to marry, until her father’s illness and her obligation to the Searchers scuttled those plans. The last Violet had heard, Geoffrey married and joined the Episcopalian clergy. She had read about his push to ban automatic chapels from Boston, tiny places of worship that were already long established in New York. Violet had ducked into one or two of them herself on occasion to protect herself from vampires.

  But Geoffrey Bailey wasn’t here now, and truthfully, Violet hadn’t given him much thought in years. For the first time in longer than she cared to remember, she felt need thrumming through her veins, along with worry that Samuel’s thoughts weren’t aligned with hers. His kiss and teasing aside, he was still recovering from a terrible shock.

  She would wait for him to come to her, she decided.

  The room’s door opened and Samuel walked in holding a picnic basket. He caught her raised eyebrow and sighed. “This is all the kitchen could provide,” he said. “The cook was most displeased that I asked for breakfast in my room until I explained that my wife was feeling poorly.”

  “And the cook agreed?”

  “Begrudgingly, which is why I’m bringing everything to you in a basket rather than a servant bringing a tray.” He opened the basket and set everything on the small desk pushed against the wall: a pair of small plates, cooling rashers of bacon, hardboiled eggs that Violet already knew were going to be cold, and some scones that looked very fresh.

  “Thank you,” she said, and touched the sleeve of his coat, letting her hand linger. When she looked up at him, she thought she saw her own thoughts mirrored there.

  Maybe I’m not wrong about all of this.

  Still, she wasn’t going to push her luck. They filled their plates, and Samuel sat down on the end of the bed. Neither said anything, but Violet wasn’t sure what to say anyway.

  “How’s your arm?” he finally asked.

  “You mean, has it worsened since you left? It’s fine,” she said. “I’m really all right, Sam. I’d tell you otherwise.”

  He seemed to accept her explanation, and they finished their meal. Violet gathered the plates and stacked them in the picnic basket, and Samuel ducked behind the screen to change into his nightclothes. Violet closed the window drapes, casting the room in near-total darkness, then slid into bed.

  I’m thinking about this too much.

  She was probably wrong about his feelings toward her, if he had any. She was such a fool, so lacking in affection that she was taking a kiss he’d given her under duress and letting her imagination run away with her.

  Maybe I should take off my nightdress?

  No, that would make things a million times worse if she was wrong.

  Samuel slid into bed beside her, rustling the blankets, and his body heat immediately warmed the bed. Both of them lay there, stiff and, in Violet’s case at least, uncomfortable. She knew she wouldn’t be falling asleep any time soon, as much as she should, and she could tell from the rigidity of Samuel’s body and his even, shallow breaths that he wasn’t tired, either.

  “I asked the front desk to knock on the door at one,” he said in the darkness. “So we can meet Mr. and Mrs. Burgess at the airfield.”

  “Thank you.”

  More silence, and it drove Violet crazy. She couldn’t go on like this until she’d asked him, at least. “Sam?”

  “Yes?”

  She swallowed. “Did you mean it when you said I’d never looked more presentable before?”

 
There was a pause, and she thought she’d misjudged him. He was reverting back to his arrogant, son-of-a-bitch persona he’d had back in London, courtesy of returning to the field and remembering that he was a decent Searcher. He was…

  “Yes,” he said.

  Excitement thrummed through her at his answer. But to save her life, she couldn’t think of a witty response. Wit and flirtation were Ada Sterling’s domain, not hers. She’d spent her life hunting things and organizing others. All she could do, while she groped for words, was hope that Samuel wasn’t insulted by her silence.

  Finally, she summoned a response. “Thank you.”

  The bedclothes crumpled and Samuel turned away.

  It took Violet a few seconds to realize he was laughing. “Damn it!” she said. “What’s so funny?”

  “You,” he said. “You’re adorable, Violet.” He rolled on to his side to face her, and she could make out his features in the dark.

  She levered herself up on her good arm, propping her head in her hand. “Thank you again, I guess,” she said. “And don’t laugh at me.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I suppose you’re laughing with me.” He didn’t respond to that, but she could still see his grin. She liked it; she hadn’t seen him happy at all since he landed in New York.

  “Neither, I promise,” he said. “It’s an unexpected relief to meet people who aren’t so gloomy.”

  “Ada mentioned London being rather gloomy.” At least the parts where she wasn’t with Max, but Violet kept that to herself.

  “It is, and so are the Searchers. I don’t think I understood how much until I left England.”

  “Samuel?”

  “Yes?”

  “Would it be adorable if I kissed you? Or would it just make things awkward between us?”

  He was quiet again. Well, there I’ve gone and fucked it all up.

  “It wouldn’t be adorable,” he said.

  She felt her heart crack and a wave of mortification wash over her.

  “It would be maddening,” he said.

  That was all the encouragement Violet needed. She closed the short distance between them, pressing her mouth to his. He immediately responded, arm locking around her and hauling her atop him. She sucked in a gasp as her injured arm throbbed but ignored it.

  Samuel didn’t. “Violet? Did I hurt you?”

  “No,” she said quickly, and kissed him again to banish any more of those thoughts away. She was fine. Better than fine.

  Samuel’s tongue swept into her mouth, sending heat straight through her body to her core. She adjusted herself, sliding down his body to straddle his hips. He moaned, his body thrusting up to grind his erection against her backside.

  Another thrill shot through her, and then … uncertainty. She paused for only a second, but it was long enough for Samuel to take notice.

  “Is something wrong?” His voice was a harsh whisper in the darkness, and Violet hated the concern there.

  “No,” she said, a little too quickly. She reached for the top buttons on her nightdress and plucked them open. His hand stilled hers, and she froze.

  Am I doing something wrong?

  He must have seen the question in her eyes. She could see understanding dawning in his face even in the darkened room. “Is this your first…?”

  “No!” she said again. Embarrassment flooded her, replacing the desire that had been coursing through her veins just a moment ago. “Sam, kiss me again.” She angled her face over his, but he turned away before her mouth could touch him.

  Oh, damn. “Did I do something wrong?”

  His hands gently clasped her wrists. “Violet, I’m not upset.”

  She was rapidly getting there. What was the problem? She wanted him and could tell by the stiffness of his body and ragged breathing that he still wanted her. “I’m not either,” she lied.

  There was an understanding look on his face that tugged at her, urged her to be honest, and she didn’t know which she hated more: that look, or her own ineptitude. She probably should have let him take the lead on this. “Um,” she said lamely.

  She may as well be honest.

  “I thought that was what I was supposed to do,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize,” he said. “I’m just surprised you were willing to take everything off right away.”

  Tears sprang to Violet’s eyes and she blinked them away. She prayed he didn’t notice. She took a moment to compose herself, to sound like she wasn’t on the verge of crying. All she could manage was, “I don’t know what to say.”

  His fingers massaged slow circles on her wrists, the touch gentle and soothing. “I don’t either, except it’s been in my experience…” He cleared his throat, and briefly looked away.

  This just kept getting worse and worse. “Samuel, I don’t care if there were other women. I’d expect that, actually.”

  “It’s not that.”

  “What is it? I thought you wanted this.” There was a wobble to her voice, and she silently cursed it.

  “I do, I just want this to be good for you. For both of us. Not a hurried fumbling in the dark,” he said.

  That … made sense. Violet relaxed a little, but all the same, she slid off Samuel’s hips and settled in the bed next to him. “I hadn’t considered that,” she said.

  “It’s something you may want to consider.”

  “You’re not angry?” she said, her voice small.

  “Why on earth would I be angry?”

  “I don’t know!” She tried and failed to keep the exasperation out of her voice. “That I’m inexperienced?”

  “That doesn’t bother me.”

  “That I’m inexperienced and not a virgin?”

  “I’m not a virgin, either. I wouldn’t hold that against you. As I’ve told you, Violet, I want this to be good for you.”

  The absurdity of their situation finally fell over her, and she had to bite back a smile. “I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?”

  “No. I’m a little confused, is all. And I imagine you are, as well.”

  “Yes.” She may as well admit what was troubling her. “I’m not sure what to do. What you like.”

  “I like you, Violet, but I don’t think that’s here nor there for you right now. Men aren’t a monolith any more than women are.”

  “I know!” God, if the events of the past ten minutes hadn’t taught her that yet, then she was a bigger idiot than she thought. “Sam, can you just kiss me again already?”

  He didn’t offer a reply, just a scorching kiss that left her insides quivering. He moved over her, hands sliding down her body, and she felt herself relax. This was supposed to be fun and pleasurable.

  She could do that.

  His tongue swept into her mouth and she eagerly reciprocated, the motion drawing a small mewl from her. He took that as a sign of encouragement, his hand reaching for the hem on her nightgown and pushing it up her leg. His other hand found the small buttons marching down the front of her nightdress and he flicked one open.

  She sucked in a harsh breath of surprise, and he pulled away. “All right?” he asked.

  Very much so. “Yes.”

  He deftly unfastened a few more buttons, baring her breasts to the air. Her nipples stiffened from the temperature change and his appreciative look. His fingers traced the inside of her calf, moving up to her knee. She tried not to giggle. “Sorry,” she said breathlessly. “I’m ticklish there.”

  “What about here?” His fingers moved up a little higher, to her thigh. She involuntarily stiffened a little against him and felt Samuel’s erection press against her hip. She didn’t know which felt better.

  “Higher.”

  He obliged, his eyes never leaving hers. Part of her wanted to close hers, self-conscious at the reaction he easily coaxed from her, but another, more wanton part thrilled at the intense look on his face, a look she had managed to put there.

  Her voice was a strangled whisper when she spoke. “Touch
me.”

  She didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t need to. His fingers skimmed over her damp center, the space she only touched when she was home alone, under cover of darkness. Then he pushed inside her.

  The motion nearly set off a chain reaction inside Violet. She hadn’t expected this to be so intense, every nerve ending set on fire. Her hips moved of their own accord as Samuel slid his fingers in and out of her, her body already feeling like it was going to coil in on itself as she sought relief.

  She hadn’t expected to have that happen so soon.

  “Samuel,” she whispered in his ear, breath ragged. “I need…”

  He seemed to sense what she needed. He fitted another finger in her, his tempo increasing. His mouth caught her lips, tongue tangling with hers and muffling her cry as she shattered around his hand.

  She lay in his arms for a long moment, savoring the contact. Warm affection for the man next to her flowed through her, along with the distant thought that she could get used to this. Could get used to this with him. “I feel like I should thank you,” she said.

  “Thanks isn’t necessary. I enjoyed that, too.”

  Violet could still feel the rapid beat of Samuel’s heart and his cock still against her spent body. “What about you?” she asked.

  “What about me?”

  Shyness overcame her again, which was ridiculous, given what they’d just shared. And he knew what she meant, drat him; she could hear it in his voice. She parsed her words carefully. “I want you to have that, too.”

  “You’re offering?”

  She rolled her eyes. He was teasing her, and she didn’t know how to respond in kind yet. “Yes, and you know that.” She lowered her voice a little, trying to inject as much suggestion into it as she could. “Show me what you like.”

  She must have done something right, because his eyes darkened and he took her hand, placing it over the swell of his cock. She stroked it through his night clothes, hoping she didn’t come across as too experimental.

  Although judging from the way Samuel closed his eyes and bucked his hips slightly in response, she didn’t need to worry about that. Emboldened by his reaction, she unlaced his trousers and wrapped her hand around his cock, stroking the soft skin.