A Love For Always (30 page)

“About fucking time.”

His eyes cracked open a little as a faint grin curved his lips.

“Why you—” Sylvie sputtered. “Were you faking sleep?”

“Since you tried to wake me up—yes.”
 
His grin widened and his eyes were half open, and damn him for looking so sexy even laid up and beaten down.

“So you heard every word?” Sylvie asked softly.

“Every word, babe.”

“And?”

“And if you don’t come over here and give me a kiss, I ain’t saying it back.”

The teasing had returned to his voice. Her Nate was back.

So she leaned over and did as she was told.

And he whispered the words that mattered.

*****

Three weeks later.

If there was one thing Nate loved as much as being buried deep inside his woman, it was the taste of her coming on his mouth. He growled roughly and gripped her harder around her legs. Sylvie was sitting on his face, gripping the headboard as he licked every drop of liquid heat that exploded from her pussy.
 

“Nate, your ribs,” Sylvie gasped as she ground her swollen core against his marauding lips. He sucked her clit in response, sending renewed tremors through her body. Fuck, the taste of her, the smell of her, he could never get enough.
 

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God,” Sylvie moaned. She cried out and bucked before she turned boneless and slumped against the headboard. She quickly disengaged her legs and fell beside him.
 

“I’m not done,” Nate muttered.

“Well, I had to get off—”

“I know you did,” he smirked.
 

Sylvie scrambled to her knees and smacked him on the shoulder. “I mean off you before I collapsed backward and—Nate!” He quickly did an ab curl and dragged her on top to straddle him and—

Oh, fuck
, that probably wasn’t a good idea. His ribs were healing well, but not to the extent of manhandling Sylvie in bed just yet. Served him right. His raging hard-on deflated as he crashed back against the pillows, jaw tightening at the sharp jab to the sides.

He tried his best not to make a sound and squeezed his eyes shut to block out the pain, but a tortured groan escaped him anyway. Sylvie didn’t coddle him, but she got pissed every time he’d been reckless with himself.

“See! Serves you right.” Her words echoed his own sentiment. Sylvie’s weight left him to resume her position by his side.

He opened one eye. Her eyes were blazing with irritation and worry.
 

“A little sympathy here,” he whined. He was joking of course, because it was just a transient pain and had dulled to mere uncomfortable spasms by now. He sure didn’t want to ruin this evening by pissing off his woman.

Nana and Pru left for Richmond earlier today and tonight was the first evening they truly had for themselves in weeks. Sylvie had cooked a delicious dinner of baked scallops in cream and melty cheese—some French Saint Jacks dish. A nice change from the classic American fare Nana had been cooking. Not that Nate was complaining. He’d better watch it though. He wasn’t as active as he used to be. The last thing he wanted was to develop a paunch at the end of eight weeks when the cast came off. But he had always been an active man. He doubted he’d wait that long before hitting the gym again. His ribs should be healed in the next two weeks, and he would be lifting weights soon. The crutches right now were giving him killer triceps, and his upper body was definitely getting a workout.
 

“What are you smiling about?” Sylvie snapped.
 

Killer triceps.

“Dinner was delicious.” Nate decided complimenting her on her cooking was a good distraction for his earlier recklessness.
 

“What?” She looked totally confused with his off tangent remark.
 

“Babe . . . That cock whatever Saint Jacks was the shit.” He was pretty sure he butchered the French dish’s name.
 

“Coquilles St. Jacques, silly.” Sylvie laughed, all traces of worry and ire dissolving from her face. She proceeded to talk about the preparation of the dish and the tweaks she did to the original recipe. Nate listened with fondness. Though he understood probably only half of what she said about food, the animated way she talked about her craft was adorable . . . and admirable. That was one of the things he loved about her. Passion. His firecracker.

He leaned over the edge of the bed—carefully this time—and tagged his boxer briefs from the floor. It didn’t look like his dick was seeing any action tonight, but this actually turned out better. Nate scooted up the bed and leaned against the headboard, continuing to watch Sylvie talk about the importance of the right type of cheese for the dish. Damn, he was getting hungry again just hearing her talk, but now that his eyes had zeroed in on her lips, he was imagining it doing something else and another kind of hunger reared up and so did his cock.

Sylvie paused. “You aren’t listening, are you?”

“I am,” Nate replied. “You were talking about cheese.”

She grinned, but then her eyes dropped to his boxers. “Liar.”

“Guilty.” He adjusted his growing erection. “Although, honestly, I was listening until I had to watch your pretty little mouth work and . . .
 
you know.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Nate, you’re incorrigible.” Sylvie leaned forward and kissed him lightly. “But I love you anyway.”

“And you’re willing to put up with my shit for the rest of your life?” he asked while beating back a grin.

Her eyes grew tender. “I told you I’m not living another day without you. So yes, rest of my life. Got a problem with that?”

“I love you, firecracker.”

“Love you back, baby.”

Their eyes locked. Nate’s chest tightened with the sheer emotion clogging up his throat. He knew he wasn’t going about this the right way, but fuck, any other outcome was unacceptable. “What do you think about a fall wedding?”

Sylvie’s eyes widened and then narrowed. She sat back on her haunches. “Nate, I know you’re a rebel in many ways, but I think you’re aware you’re supposed to be asking me first.”

“Sylvs, my heart was married to yours a long time ago,” Nate said quietly. “Lying on the roof of that car, surviving that fall, that was a fucking miracle. We were meant to be, babe. You said it yourself, everything we’ve been through these past nine years made us stronger. Did you have any doubt we’d end up married, have babies, and grow old together? Not fucking letting you go. Gotta know that. Don’t get all traditional with me because nothing about us is traditional. We’re a fucking miracle. We’ll get married in the fall, maybe sooner—”

“Sooner?” Sylvie croaked.

Okay, maybe he was coming on too strong. Fall was just a few months away. But still. “I’m not wasting time. You get the restaurant back into gear, you’re off the shot. I’m putting my kid inside you.”

“Back up a little bit, caveman,” Sylvie said, holding her hand up. “If you don’t want traditional, then why get married?”

Nate couldn’t believe she said that.
 

“Are you sure Nana would approve of us living in sin?” Nate asked, trying very hard not to blow up on her.

“We’re already living in sin. Is that the only reason marriage is on the table?”

“Fuck, no,” Nate growled. “Sylvs, I want you to be mine in every sense of the word. I’d tattoo your ass with ‘property of Nathan Reece’ if I thought you’d go for it. I don’t care for marriage as a tradition, but I want that piece of paper that says you’re fucking mine and mine alone.”

“Tattoo on the ass, huh?” Sylvie asked, her lips twitching.

Nate grinned. “You’re okay with it?”

“I wouldn’t like anything that vulgar,” she demurred.
 

“How about, ‘your ass is mine.’”

Sylvie rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Nate.”

His hand reached out and closed around her nape, bringing her close for a long, bruising kiss. When they broke apart, he murmured. “I’m still waiting for an answer.”

“Yes.”

“Yes to what?” Nate asked impatiently.

An impish gleam entered Sylvie’s eyes. “Yes to whatever question you were asking.”

To the wedding? To the tattoo?

Fuck, she got him.

“Sylvie . . .” he growled.

“Yes, I’ll marry you in the fall, even if you didn’t exactly ask me,” she replied primly, her eyes dancing with mirth.
 

He tackled her to the mattress, managing to get her under him. She didn’t even put up a fight, and instead, helped him free his erection to guide him inside her. She latched onto him with all her limbs, ankles crossing behind his ass, propelling him forward. He groaned as he sank into her warm moist heat. Fucking incredible.
 

With his arms fully extended, propping him above her, he rhythmically thrust in and out, rotating his hips to rub her sensitive spot to get her there. Then he got there. Strong, explosive, fulfilling. It would always be this way with her.

Nate woke with a start. He had a fitful sleep and that was because he had forgotten something. Careful not to wake Sylvie who had fallen asleep tucked to his side, he pulled away. He opened the bottom nightstand drawer and reached for the box hidden with the other shit that was in there.
 

Sitting at the edge of the bed now, he flicked the box open. Even in the dark, the exquisite diamond glinted, refracting the moonbeams that filtered through the window. He had bought this ring almost as soon as he got out of the hospital.
 

No wasted time.
 

He took out the engagement ring and glanced at the sleeping woman in his bed. The only woman he had ever loved, always loved, and would love for always. And in breaking tradition once more, Nate took Sylvie’s hand and slipped the ring on her finger.

Then he slipped back into bed, tucked her carefully to his side once more, and fell asleep.

This time he slept peacefully.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

A little over three years later

“Eighty-six on the Red Miso Ramen!”

At Sapporo Ramen, it was business as usual. The restaurant continued to draw crowds from regular patrons as well as out-of-town folks. It continued to make the top-ten restaurants to visit in DC for the past two years and garnered rave reviews from food critics all across the Northern Virginia area. If anyone craved traditional Japanese food continuously reinvented to harness seasonal ingredients and yet deliver that taste of authenticity, Sapporo Ramen never failed to top the list. Despite its success, Sylvie continued to keep the mystique by never expanding beyond what she could manage. Taylor and Koji headed the ramen bar with another person—a female chef this time—to replace Cade. Kato was promoted to sous chef and had been in charge of the back kitchen for the past year. This meant Sylvie could now take a vacation with no worries. She and Nate were going to leave for that delayed honeymoon.
 

The reason for that delay just walked through the door.

Nate carrying their two-year-old daughter, Charlotte.
 

“Momma!”

Her adorable child. Looking much like Sylvie except for her dark brown curls, Charly was already exhibiting the mischievous and stubborn streak of her father. When she married Nate in the fall of that fateful year, she was already four months pregnant. The investigation into Harold Tisdale, getting the restaurant up and running, and preparing for the wedding took so much of her mind space, she had forgotten her appointment for her shot. Interestingly, she didn’t get an appointment reminder. She had a suspicion Nate knew she had missed a shot and when she did remember, three weeks later, he suggested they should just try for a baby. Either he had strong swimmers or she was extremely fertile because she got pregnant straightaway. She never thought Nate would take to fatherhood like he did, and it warmed her heart now to see father and daughter together.

Except, she needed to lecture him about what to dress little girls in.

“Nate, why is my daughter dressed like a Japanese anime character?”

“She likes the ninja outfit, babe.” Nate smiled, leaning in to kiss her and hand her Charly.

“The ninja outfit,” Sylvie repeated, taking in the head covering and noted since it was almost winter, it did protect her daughter from the cold. “It’s pink.”

“Somehow I didn’t think you’d like black,” Nate muttered.

“Of course I wouldn’t,” Sylvie said as she turned and walked down the hallway with her daughter, Nate following closely behind her. She noticed a couple of women ogling her husband, and though she was used to it, sometimes blatant eye-batting and adjustment of boobs to attract his attention annoyed her, especially since wife and daughter were right there with him. He’d only grown more attractive with fatherhood. Now that he was consuming wholesome food being married to a chef, he’d bulked up a tad more in the chest and arms, yet still maintained enviable muscle definition. But past his physical looks and boyish charm, it was simply the way he doted on her and Charly that made her love him more than ever. He spoiled them—mother and daughter—and it wasn’t just with material things, but with the time he spent showing them that they were the most important people in his life.

“I’m just preparing her for tae-kwon-do,” Nate said.
 

“What?” Sylvie exclaimed. “Nate, you do realize you have a daughter and not a son.”

“Now that’s a sexist remark right there.” He chuckled. “Girls can certainly learn martial arts with no problem. But yeah, if you gave me a son first, then maybe I wouldn’t need to make sure she can defend herself with a big brother looking out for her when I can’t—”

“She’s two—”

“—although maybe when we get on this honeymoon we can get started on you giving me a son—”

Sylvie tried to speak, but no words came. He was in his “impregnate Sylvie as soon as possible” mood, which was quite often. She had changed to use the Pill since Nate found out it was an easier method of birth control if getting pregnant was a plan in the near future. Yep, her man did the research.