Sealed With a Kiss

by Kristin Hardy

  “So what comes next?”

  It was the question that kept scaring the hell out of her. “TBD. The last band went kaput the week before I came back to San Francisco and went to work for my grandfather’s store. It was supposed to be a temporary gig while I got my act together, only I managed to screw everything up.”

  “We’re going to fix that.”

  “And then all I have to do is decide what to do with my life,” she said wryly.

  “Sooner or later, we all do.”

  Joss tossed her hair back and rose, catching his hand in hers. It wasn’t in her nature to be gloomy for long. “This is not a crisis. I’ll work it out. Sorry to bend your ear.”

  “You weren’t bending my ear. It was educational.”

  “Educational?”

  “Joss Chastain 101.”

  “You’ve been doing very well in the course so far.” They began walking toward the waterfront.

  “Thanks. I’ve been studying.”

  “That’s good. There’s a practicum coming up, you know.” She leaned in for a quick, teasing kiss. “It might be very involved,” she murmured against his lips. “Maybe we should go back to the room.”

  He ran his hands down her back. “Maybe we should.” They turned toward the hotel. “Of course, now that I know you’re hell-bent on doing risky things no matter my advice, I’m thinking that there’s a better course to take.”

  “A better course than making love until we’re both cross-eyed?”

  He cleared his throat. “Different, anyway. How about Defense 101?”

  She gave him an amused look. “You’re going to teach me how to kick ass?”

  “That might take a little more time than we’ve got. What I can do is teach you a few nasty tricks that might help you discourage the bad guys long enough to get away, though. Come on.” He picked up the pace. “Let’s get to the hotel.”

  “I like the sound of that,” she said.

  INSIDE THE Royal Viking, they walked across the elegant lobby and into the elevator. Bax didn’t punch the number for their floor, though. He hit the button for the top floor.

  “Wait a minute. I thought we were going to the room.”

  “There’s not enough space there to do what I have in mind.”

  “There’s enough space in our room to do what I have in mind.” She pressed him against the elevator wall and traced his lips with the tip of her tongue. “In fact, there’s enough space here.” She felt the stir of his cock against her, and that quickly, all she could feel was need.

  The chime sounded and the doors opened on the top floor. Joss hit the button for their floor. “Back down.”

  Bax put his hand in the door. “Let’s do this first.”

  “Can’t it wait?”

  “Look, waiting for you to get yourself in trouble is already making me old before my time. Let me at least teach you a few things so I can let you out of my sight.”

  It gave her a little pulse of pleasure. “Why, Bax, you’re worried about me.”

  “Don’t let it go to your head,” he muttered, a little flush creeping up the back of his neck as he walked down the hallway ahead of her.

  Inside the emergency exit stairwell, they climbed upward the last few flights until they reached the top landing and the door that barred their way.

  “You know,” Joss said conversationally, “I can’t read a lick of Swedish but there is an English translation there that says if you push that crash bar you’re going to make an unholy amount of noise and have every security guard in the hotel down on us. Maybe we’d better go back to the room and try it there.”

  Bax gave her an amused look. “Who said anything about a crash bar?” he asked as he pressed one palm against the door and pushed it open.

  “Well,” she said.

  “It’s one of those security tricks. Makes life easier on the maintenance guys and the warning signs scare off all the amateurs.”

  “Are you saying I’m an amateur?”

  “You’ve got potential.”

  “I might surprise you. I might just decide to become an investigator. What would you say to that?”

  “I’d be scared.”

  “Damned right.”

  The roof was broad and open, covered with some sort of grayish white pebbly tar paper. At intervals stood boxy heating and air-conditioning units and other structures too mysterious for her to identify. Near the edge of the roof, where the hip-high wall met the verdigris-covered facing that surrounded the outside roof, stood the Royal Viking sign. It towered over them in slanting cursive letters. By night, it was outlined in neon; by day, it was black sheet metal, with a line of metal rungs climbing up the slanting sides of the letters, just about where a stepladder would end.

  “Their name in lights, huh?” Joss asked, slipping off her jacket and tossing it down at the foot of the R.

  “Something like that,” Bax said.

  “Okay, sensei, tell me what to do.”

  The top she wore was white and stretchy and left absolutely nothing to the imagination. He watched her breasts rise and fall with each breath and shook his head. Business first, pleasure later, he reminded himself.

  “I can’t teach you martial arts in an afternoon. What I can do is teach you ways to hurt an attacker. You want to think about things like jabbing the eyes, chopping at the throat, hitting the nose with the heel of your hand. Sudden, surprising pain. It makes the eyes water and triggers an involuntary protection response. If someone’s behind you, jab them with an elbow, stomp their foot with your heel.”

  “I stomped the mugger back in Portland,” she said helpfully. “He let go of me real quick. I think I broke something in his foot. I don’t know, I didn’t stay around to find out.”

  “If you’re dealing with someone trained, like Markus, this kind of stuff will only take you so far, but it’s good to know.”

  “What about someone trained like Markus? How do I deal with what happened in the park today?”

  “There’s only so much you can do about a gun. He had you in a come-along hold, though, and we can talk about that.”

  “That was something else. Hurt like hell every time I tried to get loose.”

  “It’s supposed to.”

  She grinned. “So how do you get out of it? I finally just stopped moving.”

  “That’s the first part. You need to relax your arm, above all. A wristlock is designed to make you work against yourself. The more you do, the more you hurt. If you fight it, you can break your wrist.” He wrapped his hand around her arm in a light wristlock, feeling the surprisingly fragile bones of her arm under his fingers. He liked her when she was spitting and fighting. He didn’t like noticing her fragility. It unnerved him. “So if the bad guy has you in a wristlock, you want to rotate your arm like this and yank your hand against the thumb. The thumb is weaker than the rest of your hand, so you’ve got a chance to break the grip. Here, try it.” At first, he had to shepherd her through the move, but surprisingly quickly she was able to break his grip with a quick motion.

  “Looks like I’ve got it. Do I get a reward?”

  “What do you want? I’m all out of chocolate treats.”

  “I’ll settle for something noncaloric,” she murmured, leaning in to press a kiss on him.

  It was always new, the way she tasted, the way she felt, the way her avid mouth moved under his. He’d been with other women before, but somehow Joss stood out. Somehow, Joss erased all the others, as though there were only her, ever before and ever after.

  “So how do you break this hold?” Joss whispered, licking his earlobe.

  By keeping the end point in sight. Bax raised his head. “Let’s move to the next topic. What if someone’s trying to throttle you?”

  “This isn’t some deep-seated urge of yours, I hope.”

  “You’re safe for now,” he said dryly. “So come on, what do you do?”

  “Apply pain,” she said promptly. “Poke the attacker in the eye or stomp their foot.�
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  “Good idea. The down side is that you might miss or the assailant might be out of range. Breaking loose before applying pain is better. Think, now. You want leverage. Move one of your feet back behind you. That’s called Hidden Foot in martial arts. Look, let’s do it. I’ll put my hands around your neck.” The slender column of her throat was soft beneath his fingers. Her pulse beat against his palms. The slanting letters behind them threw shadows over the gray tar paper of the roof. “Okay, now slide your left foot back. See how you pivot a little so your right shoulder comes toward me? If I’m a bad guy and I’m shaking you, I won’t notice. Now here’s the payoff. Take your right arm around and over my hands, scything, like you’re trying to touch your left hip. Do it fast and all in one motion.”

  She whipped her arm up and over, knocking his hands down and away, taking him by surprise.

  “It worked!” she said delightedly.

  “It did. You’re a fast learner.”

  “I’m a woman of many talents,” she said, giving him a bold gaze.

  “The thing to remember is to do it fast and hard.”

  “I always thought slow and hard was the ticket,” she said with an entirely naughty look in her eyes. Her hands strayed to his belt buckle. “Shall I demonstrate?”

  “You’re a bad influence,” he told her and pulled her to him for a long, deep kiss. When he felt her soften, he turned her in his arms to cradle her from behind, kissing her neck until her head fell back against him helplessly. “You should watch out,” he murmured in her ear. “Kissing can be dangerous.” He slid his arm up around her neck. “Now let’s talk about choke holds.”

  Joss’s hands flew up to his arm. “Dirty trick, Baxter.”

  “There’s no one to make your opponents play fair,” he reminded her. But she wasn’t playing fair, either. Her hair was against his mouth, fragrant and sweet. He glanced down to see the tempting curves of her breasts. Desire tugged at him.

  “Any time, sensei,” Joss said and he shook it off.

  “All right. I’ve got you in a choke hold.” He wrapped his free arm across her taut body.

  “It feels like a hold, all right.” She slid her right arm down his side and over his butt. “Is this a kinky sex thing?”

  “Pay attention,” he said, as much to himself as to her. “You might need this some day.”

  “Kinky sex?” She slid her hand over his thigh and into his crotch. “Or maximum persuasion?” Quick as a snake, her hand surrounded his cock and balls. And she waited.

  Bax stood absolutely still. “Careful.”

  “Mmm. So, what was that you were saying about playing fair?”

  “It’s bad form to emasculate your instructor,” he said in a strained voice.

  “Is that what’s happening? It feels like something else,” she murmured.

  Indeed, under the heat of her hand, his cock was beginning to twitch and lengthen. She rubbed her fingers over the denim and the slight friction had him taking a breath. The second time she did it, he stiffened and tried not to think about her touch and what he could do with the woman in his arms. The third time she did it, he gave up.

  Bax let his hands slide down over her body, feeling the lush curves of her breasts. It was ironic that he was teaching her self-defense. He was the one who needed defense, because when he got around her, his better sense went out the window and all he could do was want. Focus on the job, he thought, edging his fingertips under the hem of her tank. He managed pretty well most of the time, but when she was unzipping his jeans and sliding his cock into her mouth it just made him dizzy and work was the last thing on his mind. Instead, his world was wet heat and slippery friction that stood his hair on end as he looked down to see himself disappearing into her mouth, looked down to see her beautiful eyes, a glimpse of her breasts, the wonder of this gorgeous, sexy, amazing woman at his feet.

  When he feared he was the one who was truly helpless.

  He reached a hand out to brace himself on the slanting side of the R and touched her head, caressing her hair before stilling her motion. “Wait,” he said hoarsely. “I want to be in you.” He dragged out his wallet, fishing out the condom he’d tucked there even as Joss eeled out of her jeans and thong.

  “A condom? Bax, you must have been a Boy Scout,” she purred, taking it from him. She took him in her fist, stroking her hand over him from root to tip until he stiffened. “Well, you’re hard enough to put it on, but maybe not slippery enough.” Then she knelt on her jeans and slid him into her mouth, alternately licking him and rolling on the latex until he was sweating and grinding his teeth to keep from coming.

  Then she stood and leaned back against the side of the R. “Now,” she whispered, and wrapped one leg around his waist as he pressed against her.

  Bax held his cock in one hand, his fingers sliding into her slick folds, rubbing her sweet juices down over himself. He traced the tip of his cock over her clitoris, running across it, down it, circling, over and over.

  Joss moaned. Reaching up over her head, she touched the lowest of the steel rungs that climbed up the side of the letter. Her hand gripped the bar, pulling herself up so she could wrap her other leg around Bax’s waist. “Put your cock in me. I want to feel it,” she panted.

  And in one swift push of his hips, he was inside her.

  It was better than any buzz he’d ever had, the feel of having her wrapped around him, tight and hot and wet, so wet. Knowing how aroused she was, knowing that he had aroused her intensified the feel of every stroke. He looked down and watched his cock slide in and out of her. He could never get tired of this, seeing it, feeling it, hearing the cries she couldn’t keep from making. When the sensory onslaught dragged him toward the edge, he resisted, changing his motion to prolong the experience. He pressed his finger against her mouth and slipped it between her lips, feeling her suck on him. Then he pulled it out and slipped it between her other lips, feeling her clitoris standing out in a hard, slick nub. He stroked it in time with the stroke of his cock, feeling her shudder, hearing her stifled moan.

  And when she flushed and began the gulping, gasping cries that he knew heralded her orgasm, he abandoned control, surging against her hard and fast and deep until it launched him into climax with her.

  THE TOUR BOAT dock was a stone’s throw from the Royal Viking. Joss had watched the low, white, glassed-in boats navigate in and out of the little inlet by the hotel, alternately taking in and disgorging their crowds of passengers. Now, she and Bax stood in line at the kiosk to buy tickets of their own.

  “First the museum, now a tour boat?” Joss asked. “This isn’t just an excuse for sightseeing with you, is it?”

  “Our friend is out in the archipelago, so we ought to get oriented. And you never know what you might learn on a tour like this. It’s worth doing,” Bax said, picking up the tickets that the counter clerk passed over. “We might learn something.”

  They wandered over to stand at the gate to the dock. The clouds that had blown in earlier had brought a light drizzle with them that had the happy effect of discouraging sightseers. Instead of the normal crowd, she and Bax stood among a small handful of tourists lined up waiting for the flat, white boat to arrive.

  It chugged merrily toward them, churning up a froth of whitewater with its blunt bow. As the boat neared the dock, gradually slowing, a young deckhand appeared on the prow with a line. He gathered himself as the landing neared and leaped across several feet of open water to gain the dock and make the ropes fast.

  Even though it was just a quick water tour of Stockholm, Joss couldn’t suppress a little charge of excitement. She ought to be above it, she told herself as they lined up to board. After all, she was in Stockholm for serious business. Hadn’t that just been graphically demonstrated to her?

  But it was the first time she’d been somewhere foreign, other than Africa, somewhere historic. Surely it was understandable for her to want to enjoy herself just a little bit, wasn’t it? After all, they were going on the boat whethe
r she liked it or not. Having fun would be the best use of time and money.

  The little tour boat sat low in the water. A narrow central aisle threaded through the ranks of padded crosswise benches that bracketed narrow tables, like a series of restaurant booths. Headsets hanging on hooks on the tables played the tour narration in a dozen languages. Bax chose a seat up front and the boat was thinly populated enough that they had their entire booth to themselves.

  Joss put on her headset and looked around. The whole top of the boat seemed to be made of Plexiglas. The windows rose from beside them and curved over to form the top of the boat, allowing them an unimpeded view on nearly all sides as the vessel backed out and began to chug away from Gamla Stan.

  They headed east past the island Djurgården with its amusement park and open-air museum. The swells were larger here, sweeping in from the outer margins of the archipelago.

  “If we keep going this direction, we’ll find ourselves out by Silverholmen,” Bax murmured to her.

  “We’ll have to go out there eventually, won’t we?” she asked as the boat came around and headed for the pass between Gamla Stan and Södermalm, the SoHo of Stockholm.

  “Probably. First, we’ve got to find a boat.”

  “Do you know how to pilot a boat?”

  “It’s been a little while, but yeah. I can navigate too, if I need to, but most boats come with GPS units these days. Takes away some of the guesswork.”

  The boat slowed as it went under a bridge and in between the high stone walls. Joss frowned and put on her headset.

  “And now,” announced the recorded narration, “we will proceed into the locks that will allow us to enter Lake Mälaren, at a different level than the Baltic.”

  The tour boat moved slowly into the lock, stopping and idling by the high stone walls. The pilot looked forward and back to check his position. The mate stepped lithely out of the forward hatch of the boat and up onto the transparent roof over their heads. Guide rope in hand, he vaulted onto the stone sidewall of the lock, walking nonchalantly along, directing the boat.

  There was a careless efficiency to his movements that belied his skill as he guided the tour boat to the proper position and tied it down as the water level changed. Slowly, a hair-thin crack of daylight appeared at the center of the massive gates of the lock, widening as they parted, moving smoothly and ponderously backward. Finally, they had moved completely out of the way, leaving the path clear. The deckhand unwound the rope from its cleat to let the boat move forward, leaping lightly onto the foredeck at the last minute.