Code Redhead - A Serial Novel

by Sharon Kleve

  “Yeah, it’s me, honey.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  She waited, but there was no immediate answer, just a rustling of fabric. Then the door to the shower slid open, on the other side of which was a naked Jackson. Socks, shirt, and pants hung neatly on the towel rack.

  “May I join you?” he asked, stepping in before she could answer. He stood in front of the spray of water, pellets beating down on his back, dark-brown eyes on her.

  Gulping hard at the look he was giving her, Nevaeh felt oddly awkward and shy. Was this another human ritual? Nevaeh blinked back her confusion. Serenitarians did not engage in communal bathing. Not even with one’s mate. Such an act was done in private, a time to reflect in solitude. Now Jackson had interrupted her peaceful ponderings with his overlarge frame and aroused manhood.

  “W-what are you doing, Jackson?”

  He gave her his most charming smile, the one that told her he was on a mission. A mission that, apparently, involved her, him, and the shower meant to accommodate one.

  “There’s some twenty-four-hour stomach thing going around. Half the delegates begged off the meeting, claiming the food on the station too spicy for their delicate digestive system.” He ran a hand through her damp hair. “Considering I saw some of those same delegates last night practically inhaling Martian mead, I’d wager a hangover as the cause of their suddenly upset stomach.”

  The hand exploring her hair settled on her nape before Jackson used it to pull her forward. “I checked your schedule and noticed an addendum. I assumed you would be here or in my quarters. Lucky me, I tried here first.”

  Lucky? She wasn’t so sure. Did human mates regularly share such intimacies? Would Jackson now enter the bathroom when she was brushing her teeth or relieving herself? Did he expect her to do the same? She had no intention of—”

  He kissed her, mouth gentle but persistent. A tongue snaked out and found her bottom lip, stroking until she opened for him. Then he dipped inside and stroked some more.

  Nevaeh sighed, falling into Jackson. His arms rose to wrap around her waist and chest hair tickled suddenly erect nipples. Erect, yes, Jackson’s hard, masculine length poked against her stomach—bold and unrepentant.

  Without thinking, Nevaeh stood on tiptoe, wanting to feel that hardness more, while deepening the intoxicating kiss.

  Jackson moaned, deep in his throat, sounding like a starving beast of prey. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.” He spoke the words against her neck before sucking hard on the vein that was pulsing in tune with the ache in her lower belly. The very ache that wasn’t adequately fed two days ago, Nevaeh recalled with an inward moan.

  “Jackson, wouldn’t it be better if we—”

  He cut her off with another exquisite kiss, his hands going to her waist and lifting. Back suddenly against the cool shower tiles, she could do nothing but wrap her legs around Jackson’s waist.

  Nevaeh guessed she did something right, for Jackson growled and took her mouth hard. The kiss was scorching hot, leaving Nevaeh breathless and yearning for more.

  Readjusting her weight, Jackson held her thighs in his large hands, then brought them together. A quick upward movement of his lean hips and he was inside.

  She nearly cried his name. Instead, Nevaeh bore her head into Jackson’s neck, his wet shoulders absorbing her moans, her screams of pleasure.

  Yes, he was so hard, so deep, and so hungry with primal need. And he gave it all to her. Jackson’s strong hips held her, his stronger thrusts pushed over and over into Nevaeh, making her weak and crave him even more.

  Oh, yes, she needed more. More of this. More of him. More—

  Jackson’s orgasm powered through him, sending Nevaeh’s back into the wall, her mouth opened in disbelief as her husband spent himself inside of her.

  Another quickie? But it was supposed to be a morning ritual. It was most assuredly not morning. What the—

  “Damn that was good.” Jackson set her back on her feet, his eyes glowing with male satiation.

  Shocked, Nevaeh could only stare as Jackson washed and exited the shower.

  Tingling from where her husband had been and where she wanted him again, Nevaeh reached for the faucet and turned it to the left. A burst of cold water hit her overheated body.

  Nevaeh barely noticed.

  *****

  It was nearly ten in the evening by the time Nevaeh reached Jackson’s office. As she expected, he was still sitting at his desk, hard at work.

  Putting whatever he was reading down when he heard her approach, Jackson smiled a greeting before saying, “Come to see what’s taking your workaholic husband so long?”

  Nevaeh simply nodded, knowing Jackson had a tendency to forget the time when he fixated on one problem or another.

  Speaking of problems, there was something Nevaeh really needed to talk with her husband about. She’d put it off too long. They were alone, so now was good a time as any.

  “I’m only just finishing myself. I thought we could walk to your quarters together.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Ah, my quarters tonight?”

  Nevaeh laughed, and Jackson stood and walked toward her. “Well, it can be quite confusing.”

  “True, but we’ve managed thus far to wind up in the same bed each night.”

  Jackson undid the top button of his shirt, then reached for her. Nevaeh gave him her hand, permitting Jackson to pull her into a sweet embrace. It was nice. She hadn’t seen him all day.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Jackson said, turning Nevaeh around, her back to his chest. He held her to him before walking forward, moving toward the front of his desk.

  “About what,” Nevaeh asked with caution, feeling as if she’d lost her window of opportunity.

  “You see, honey, human men have fantasies.”

  “Fantasies?”

  “Mmm-hmm. The shower the other day was one, this”—he placed her hands, palm down, on his desk—”is another.” Jackson lifted her hair and kissed her neck. “I’ve envisioned you like this since being given this office.” He kissed her neck again. “This time of night, no one is on this part of red level but us.”

  Yes, she’d definitely lost her window of opportunity. Jackson was on another mission.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Later. I want you now. Been thinking about it all day.”

  “What if someone comes in?”

  Jackson released her, then hurried to the door, his strides long and confident. Nevaeh heard a thump then a soft click. He was behind her a moment later, placing her hands back on the desk.

  “You like this position, honey.”

  Goddesses help her, she did like this position. But she wanted more than what he seemed to be offering her. Then again, she reasoned, they were behind a locked door, they’d completed every task on their busy schedules, and the rest of the night lay ahead of them. There was also a nice, soft couch on the other side of the office.

  But no, seven minutes later, buried deep inside, dress hiked to her waist, Jackson’s pants at his ankles, Nevaeh sensed the end to the interlude pounding into her.

  “Not yet. Not yet, Jackson,” she moaned, but he was too far gone, his hips grinding into her backside, pushing her farther onto the wooden desk.

  He shouted her name when he finished, and Nevaeh screamed, too, with frustration.

  “You told me,” Nevaeh groused when she exited Jackson’s small bathroom office, doing her best to put herself to rights, “that this quickie of yours was a morning ritual. To date, it’s included not only a morning, but an afternoon, and now an evening.”

  Jackson shrugged, swinging long arms into his gray suit jacket. “A quickie can take place anytime of the night or day, Nevaeh. Did I not explain that?”

  Explain? He hadn’t explained a thing. She was confused more than ever.

  “Do you mean to tell me, Jackson, that a quickie is nothing more than absurdly truncated sex, without the foreplay, that a mated pair can engage i
n the morning, noon, or night?”

  “Yeah, I thought the name said it all.” He grabbed a folder off his desk before turning off the desk lamp.

  Mouth agape, Nevaeh stared at her husband. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

  “What’s wrong, honey?” Jackson stepped toward her, but she stepped away, not interested in any more of his half-hearted touches. Nevaeh knew that wasn’t fair, but she was frustrated, irritable, and done with asinine human rituals. Serenitarian mating and courting rituals may be legion, but they at least drew the couple together, not leaving one of them feeling unfulfilled.

  Nevaeh turned away from Jackson and walked with an angry swiftness to the locked door.

  “Where are you going?”

  She unlocked the door and stepped into the hallway. It was as quiet and empty as it had been when she’d first entered her husband’s office. That was good, for she had no desire to be nice or polite to anyone, least of all to the man using his long legs to keep pace easily with her shorter ones.

  She walked faster, not stopping until they reached the lift that would take them from red level, business offices, to green level, dignitary quarters.

  Jackson stepped in front of Nevaeh, his tall, lean body casting a shadow over her. “What in the hell did I do wrong? Why are you acting like this? I thought we just had a good time back there.” He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder, referring to his office.

  A good time? Gracious, men could be so clueless.

  “I won’t discuss it with you here, Jackson.”

  They stepped onto the empty lift, each taking a corner, Jackson’s arms crossed in front of his chest as if he were the wronged party.

  “I thought—” Nevaeh glared at him. “Fine, have it your way. Just so you know, Nevaeh, you’ve been cranky all week, and I’ve said nothing, simply let it go.”

  Cranky? Let it go. No, what he’d let go this week was himself, in her, too soon, too fast, too quick. Quickie. Stupid name. Stupid ritual.

  The lift stopped, and Nevaeh exited as soon as the doors slid apart, moving to her left to make room for two security guards.

  The guards, two eight-feet women with alabaster skin, three onyx eyes, and chin with a hook at the end nodded at Nevaeh and Jackson as they passed.

  Jackson followed her down the hallway and toward his quarters, as silent as Nevaeh’s exasperation. As soon as they entered his quarters, Nevaeh whirled on Jackson, taking him completely by surprise.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Mating Ritual

  Jackson knew he was in trouble when Nevaeh could do nothing but glare at him, mouth open with no words coming out. Nevaeh, the Peace Maker, speechless? Who’d have thought such a thing was possible? Certainly not Jackson Glory. But there she stood with nothing to say. Then again, Jackson astutely amended, taking three steps away from her, maybe Nevaeh had too much to say, or was simply far too angry with him to let it out.

  That definitely sounded like a Serenitarian thing to do, so Jackson took three more steps away from his fuming wife. In fact, he moved to the other side of the room, deciding they both needed a cup of calming tea.

  Before going in search of the carafe, Jackson glanced back at his wife, who was still shooting daggers at him and decided it best not to arm her with hot liquid. Not that he was afraid of Nevaeh, the petite woman that she was, her gold-and-black hair almost as long as she was tall. Yet, she had been uncharacteristically cranky this week. And, well… Jackson survived the Terrestrial Planets War, but it had been the people of Serenity, with their advanced technology and thousands of years of wisdom, who had compelled a halt to the war. Their patience, after a decade of watching, waiting, and mediating, had reached its boiling point. Then they knew. No species in all the galaxies were as dangerous as a Serenitarian whose peace and harmony had been disturbed.

  All the way from his office, Jackson had been working his tired brain to figure out exactly what he’d done to get under Nevaeh’s diplomatically controlled veneer. He couldn’t think of a thing. But he’d definitely done something.

  Here he thought everything was going well. After two years of courting and three months of marriage, Jackson should’ve known it wouldn’t last forever. They were about to have their first argument, and damn, Jackson wasn’t prepared.

  Taking a deep breath, Jackson reminded himself he had been a soldier, commanded hundreds of men and women, and managed over a dozen arrogant and selfish dignitaries. He could handle one woman. Yeah, he could do this.

  “I thought you wanted to talk about what happened in my office. I know I definitely want to know what’s going on.”

  Now that came out strong, just as he’d intended. He was in control, not cowed at all by a woman whose head only reached his chin. But damn, could her eyes turn any darker?

  Nevaeh shook her head, then sighed. “I need to shower and meditate first.” She walked to their closed bedroom door, slid it open but didn’t immediately enter. She turned to him, her face softer, but not by much. “There is a mating ritual that must be performed tonight. I should have suggested it earlier in the week but had hoped it wouldn’t be necessary.” She gave him her back when she entered the bedroom and mumbled, “Apparently, I was wrong.”

  A mating ritual? Hell, Jackson didn’t want to perform a goddamn ritual tonight. But Nevaeh hadn’t exactly posed it as a question. No, it was a subtle command. He could refuse, but Jackson had no idea what that would mean for their relationship.

  Mating rituals, as Jackson learned before they married, were vital to the harmony and balance of Serenitarian unions. In fact, courting ritual number forty-eight was all about Serenitarian and human mating rituals. Nevaeh had asked Jackson to prepare a list and description of human marriage customs, traditions, and norms that were important to him.

  It had been a different, if not an odd request. But one that forced him to think about what exactly was vital to him in a marriage. Considering this was his second marriage, his estranged wife having perished during the war, Jackson had taken the task seriously. In the end, he was surprised by how much he’d grown since his youthful marriage to Tasha.

  The process had taught him a great deal about himself. Even more, it clarified what he had to offer Nevaeh and what he wanted from her in return.

  She’d done the same, giving him a data crystal full of information about Serenitarian mating rituals. Unlike the courting rituals, however, mating rituals weren’t compulsory. They were only performed when deemed necessary by one of the partners. In fact, most of the mating rituals were reactionary lessons instead of the more proactive courting rituals Jackson had become used to engaging, over the last two years.

  Again, that brought Jackson back to his original question. What had he done to warrant a mating ritual? He didn’t know but had the alarming suspicion it had something to do with the quickie he’d introduced her to this week. Which, by the way, wasn’t on the list of human mating rituals he’d given Nevaeh. No wonder the poor woman looked confused when he’d invaded her shower the other day. And no, he hadn’t failed to notice that she’d since taken to locking the door every time she went into the bathroom.

  Figuring he’d given his wife enough time, Jackson sighed and strolled to the bedroom.

  Once entering, Jackson noticed Nevaeh had already prepared the room for the ritual. The lights were off but lit white candles provided ample illumination. As usual, two rectangular pillows were placed on the floor beside a Serenitarian pallet made from a thick cotton-like material.

  In the center of the arrangement sat Nevaeh, hair wet and even darker from the shower. She wore a white robe that crossed over to the waist, a single hook all that kept it closed. Jackson loved that robe on her, sexy in its simple, thin, but not quite sheer design. It hugged every toned curve of her body.

  Mirroring Nevaeh, Jackson closed his eyes, trying to ignore the too-knowing part of him that whispered that Nevaeh had nothing on underneath her robe. He wouldn’t listen. Little Jackson was not in control. Big Jacks
on was. And Big Jackson was not going to eye-grope his wife while she meditated. Nope. Not him.

  Jackson peeked, one eye sliding open, straining to see. Little and Big Jackson had arrived at a compromise—look but don’t touch. Fair deal.

  “Please stop staring at me.” Nevaeh’s soft chiding voice surprised the hell out of him.

  Caught, damn.

  She opened her eyes and, yes, Jackson was still staring at her. How could he not? She was beautiful and just a little bit scary.

  Her eyes weren’t quite back to their normal color, but the meditation had clearly helped. She needed more time, though. Hell, so did Jackson.

  “I think I’ll follow your lead, honey, and take a shower. Maybe even shave this down some.” He stroked his beard, but she didn’t notice, Nevaeh’s attention having already turned away from him, her eyes once again closed, shutting him out. Oh, yeah, she needed more time.

  Thirty minutes later, a showered and shaved… well, neatly trimmed Jackson exited the bathroom, wearing the black robe he kept on the hook on the back of the bathroom door. He started to make his way to his dresser but decided against it. Jackson was pretty sure Nevaeh wore nothing but her robe, so why shouldn’t he? Going commando sounded pretty nice. He was, after all, the man of the house… quarters. Why shouldn’t he let his boys hang free if he wanted? Damn, he forgot to add that to his list as well. Jackson shrugged, a man couldn’t be expected to think of everything. Nevaeh would just have to get used to such things. He planned to tell her just that after this ritual of hers was over. Yup, Jackson Glory wasn’t afraid of any—

  “Please sit.” Nevaeh’s eyes were now open and on him. She did it again. Damn the woman and her eerie Serenitarian senses.

  Wanting to start the ritual on a good foot, Jackson sat. The fact that her tone brooked no argument had absolutely nothing to do with it.