A Love For Always

by Victoria Paige

  “Um-hum,” Nate affirmed. “Do you want anything to drink? I’ve got soda and beer.” He had the refrigerator door open and looked at her briefly. “Unless you want something stronger.”

  Liquid courage. However, now was not the time to lose her wits.

  “Do you have Coke?”

  Nate grinned. “Yup.” He grabbed a can of soda, flicked the tab, and handed it to her before getting a beer for himself.

  He nodded to the couch, indicating for her to sit. Sylvie took a gulp of her drink and sank into the soft leather furniture.

  Nate fixed her with a piercing stare.

  “Okay, Sylvie, no more stalling. Tell me what trouble you’re in.”

  “I don’t want you getting involved, Nate.”

  “I’m already involved.”

  “Further, I mean.” Sylvie rubbed her brow. She was getting a headache.

  “Let me see,” Nate regarded her for long moments before relaxing against the couch. “I bet your dad is the instigator of this whole mess. You think I’m going to let my woman face the Asian Crime Syndicate and the DEA alone?”

  “I’m not your woman.” Sylvie glared at him.

  “Whatever you say, babe,” Nate murmured, a grin curving his lips before he disguised it with another pull from his beer.

  Infuriating man.

  “Although,” Nate lowered the bottle, still amused, “after everything I’ve said, that’s all you picked up on? Did you miss the part where I mentioned the Asian mafia and the DEA?”

  Sylvie rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re finding all this funny.”

  “Believe me, I’m not. But you’re tense enough for the both of us.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Sylvie, as heartening as your desire is to keep me out of your troubles, I’m really losing patience.” Nate’s smile tightened and the amusement vanished from his eyes only to be replaced by stone-cold determination. “You know it will only be a matter of time before I get to the bottom of this, so why don’t you save me the time and trouble?”

  He was right. It was early on in their friendship when Sylvie had discovered the futility of keeping secrets from Nate. They had kept in contact when she did her culinary apprenticeship in Japan, however, she had refused to meet up with him in Tokyo. One day, he surprised her by turning up at the restaurant she was working in. Nate told her she couldn’t hide anything from him. To her shock, he divulged that he knew her father was the ACS big boss, but refused to say how he found out. It was because of this knowledge he had to fly out and see her to make sure she was okay. Of course meeting up with him had raised all kinds of alarms in her father’s organization, but Nate was not worried. Apparently, he had a solid cover as a sales executive for a multinational toy company. Sylvie had no doubt he worked for a clandestine agency. She’d asked him once, and he shut that down. Ever since then, it was almost like an unspoken agreement between them to not discuss or so much as hint about his job.

  “A year and a half ago, Nana was diagnosed with a rare form of liver disease,” Sylvie said, staring at a spot on the coffee table.

  “I remember you telling me about it,” Nate said. “This was right after you opened your restaurant and before you told me not to contact you anymore.”

  Still not looking at Nate, she continued, “The doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong. It wasn’t cirrhosis or cancer.”

  “Is she a candidate for a transplant?”

  Sylvie shook her head. “Nana is seventy-two, and with the idiopathic nature of her disease, they couldn’t offer her a place on the transplant list not knowing if there were other factors outside the liver that were causing its deterioration.”

  “The GDE pills,” Nate led in a speculative tone. “I’ve read its indications that it’s good for the liver. Is that what this is all about Sylvie?”

  “Yes and no.” She finally locked eyes with Nate. “I don’t know who the final recipients are for these pills. When I was in Japan, they were popular supplements offered in cosmetic surgery offices as well as in popular party districts.” When Sylvie worked for an establishment in the Roppongi area, GDE pills were sold alongside the hallucinogenic drugs trafficked by her father’s cronies. “I have my suspicion they are being used for some sort of underground clinical trials here. I’m not sure if it’s for cosmetic or medical benefits.”

  “But?” Nate prompted when Sylvie paused for long moments.

  “Nana doesn’t take the pills. I exchange the shipment for a concentrated GDE serum. ”

  “What?” His eyes narrowed. “Sylvie, are you saying you receive a different version of the GDE?”

  She nodded. “Six months with no improvement, we were desperate. Nana was getting so weak. My father sent his lieutenant with a syringe of the drug therapy and some literature on some Swedish clinical trials using it. Based on Nana’s blood work, which I have no idea how he’d gotten his hands on, she needed at least eight shots to be fully well.”

  “How many have you given her?”

  “Six.”

  “And the results?”

  “Amazing. Her own doctor is baffled at her outstanding recovery, but she’s not in the clear yet.”

  “Sylvie, will she need some type of maintenance?”

  “Dad said no—”

  Nate snorted a mirthless laugh, prompting a glare from her, but the grim lines etched on his face silenced her retort. “You trust your father?”

  “I have no choice.”

  “So you’ll forever be his puppet?”

  “Are you suggesting I let Nana die?”

  “No, dammit,” Nate growled. “She doesn’t know about your arrangement with your father, does she?” Seeing the expression on her face, he continued, “You think when the shit hits the fan, she wouldn’t feel as if you’ve killed her anyway?”

  Nate’s words sliced through her. All the guilt she’d been harboring about lying to her grandma came to the fore.

  “Fuck you, Nate!” Sylvie jumped to her feet, her soda sloshing against her, but she didn’t give a crap.

  “Sit your ass down,” Nate snapped.

  She ignored him and stomped to the kitchen. She dumped her soda into the sink and threw the can in the recycling bin. She was fuming, but she didn’t know whether it was at Nate or at herself. When she turned, she slammed into a brick wall of muscle. Nate’s hands circled her wrists, but she yanked them away and grabbed her phone from her purse.

  “What are you doing?” His tone was low and menacing enough to make her pause.

  “Calling a cab,” she groused, not looking at him. “I don’t need this crap from you. You don’t know what I’ve been through. You don’t have a frigging clue—umph!”

  Sylvie found herself upside down, looking at a very nice masculine butt.

  Nate just tossed her over his shoulder!

  How dare he?

  “Nate, you freaking Neanderthal. Put me down!”

  “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  “You were out of line!” Her voice jarred as he carried her up the stairs. She didn’t dare wiggle; she’d rather not be dropped on her head. Her heart slammed in her chest when Nate turned into the first room—his bedroom. “I’m not sleeping with you!”

  “Fucking you is the last thing on my mind right now.” He walked straight into his closet and pulled out a shirt. “Spanking your ass is more like what I’m feeling.”

  “Put me down.”

  “I’m kinda enjoying this moment.”

  Sylvie huffed in irritation. “Well, it’s getting uncomfortable.”

  “You’ll live.”

  Argghhhh!

  Finally she was lowered to her feet. She barely had a chance to look around the room in which he’d installed her when a shirt was shoved at her. “Strip.”

  “What? No!”

  “Sylvie, take off your clothes so I can throw them in the wash. You splashed soda all over your front. Besides, I’m not letting you out of my house until I figure out how
to handle this mess you’ve created.”

  “I told you—”

  “I know. And I’m sorry if my words hurt you, but you know I speak the truth, Sylvs.” Nate’s eyes were tender and remorseful at the same time. “Nana will not be happy with this shit you got yourself into.”

  “I just—” She couldn’t say it. I just can’t let Nana die.

  Strong arms drew her into a comforting hug. Nate’s warm breath fanned her cheek as he said quietly, “I’m here, Sylvs. You’re not going to face this alone, okay?”

  His words washed over her and eased the anxiety holding her bones and muscles rigid. Relaxing into him, she surrendered all her troubles and problems to him if only for tonight.

  *****

  Nate couldn’t sleep. He had a fucking hard-on that wouldn’t quit.

  He hadn’t jacked off in years. He had no shortage of women, and despite the image he projected as a manwhore, he had the training to rein in his libido. Hell, he’d gone undercover for months in scenarios where you couldn’t even trust the woman you fucked. What his handler advised him was: Never lose your head over a woman or you’ll really lose your head.

  What he had forgotten was the effect of seeing Sylvie in one of his shirts. The last time was when they’d been together nine years ago. Though most of his assignments were with the CIA when he was with the Army Special Forces, Nate had just officially transitioned to the Agency during that time. He was splitting his time between Langley and The Farm—the CIA training facility. Sylvie had moved to DC to work as a temporary sous chef for a famous Japanese restaurant. He’d known better than to start a relationship, and he made it clear to Sylvie he wasn’t sticking around. She was of the same mind since she was waiting for her apprenticeship assignments in Japan to come through. Nate clearly didn’t play by his own rules, and his feelings were more involved than he anticipated. So much so when his CIA handler had noticed Nate’s preoccupation with spending time with Sylvie, he had a serious chat with him. He warned Nate not to form attachments because his first mission was in the works, and he would be gone for a while. The call came three months into his affair with her. They never moved in together, so no one had to move out, but it almost killed Nate to let her go. He couldn’t just end it and walk away, but it wouldn’t be fair to leave her hanging, not knowing when he was going to see her again. Desperate to have her in his life in any way, he pushed for friendship and buried his feelings for her fucking deep inside him the way he’d been taught at The Farm.

  And it worked for years. A dissonance in his emotions would ripple every now and then, but he’d manage to keep what he felt for her on lockdown. Maybe that was why his girlfriends complained that he was emotionally unavailable because he’d saved that part of himself for Sylvie. Now he’d set it free. It was consuming him, burning through him so brightly, he was afraid he’d simply pounce on her and take her.

  Tonight was torture. She had taken a shower and shuffled to the living room where he was watching TV. His shirt hung loosely on her petite form, hitting her mid-thigh. Nate noticed her heightened color and assumed it was the effect of the hot shower, but her body language indicated something else. Sexual tension. She had her soiled clothes bunched up in front of her.

  “Can I use your”—Sylvie cleared her throat—“washing machine?”

  Nate reached for her clothes. “I’ll do it.” The back of his hand definitely brushed a taut nipple.

  Fuck. No bra.

  His eyes zeroed in on the bundle in her arms that he was in the process of taking from her.

  “No!” she squeaked, pulling back. “I know where the utility room is. I just thought I’d ask.”

  A wicked thought spurred him to find out more. “Sylvie . . .”

  He tugged, the bundle unraveled and a tiny scrap of clothing fell to the floor.

  Fuck. She’s totally naked under the shirt.

  Sylvie, blushing furiously, yanked her clothes free of Nate and crouched on the floor to pick up her panties.

  “Uh . . .” Nate stepped back and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry.”

  “You did that on purpose.” Emerald eyes flashed at him accusingly.

  He only smirked at her.

  “Ugh!” She turned around and stomped to the laundry room.

  Nate felt guilty, but then again, he didn’t. Fuck. He was bipolar when it came to her. Anyway, Sylvie paid him back the only way a feisty woman like her would. After she tossed her clothes in the washing machine, she returned to the living room and watched TV beside him on the couch.

  Sylvie. Naked under his shirt.

  Nothing happened obviously. She wasn’t really seducing him, but more like telling him, “Hey, you were a dick for wanting to know if I were wearing undies or not, but here’s me trusting you not to do anything.”

  And now he was lying on his bed as wide awake as his dick. His shaft had risen past the waistband of his pajama bottoms. Nate reached down and groaned when he brushed the tip, which was now moistened with pre-cum. He wrapped his hand around his erection, gripped it tight, and started to stroke. He imagined Sylvie on her back, shirt shoved all the way past her tits. Her breasts weren’t big, but he remembered how her dusky nipples responded when he had sucked them. Nate groaned again.

  “Sylvie,” he muttered. “Fuck.” He pumped his dick harder. Now he imagined his face between her thighs as he lapped up her juices. She’d moan and squirm against his face as he ate her out. Finally he would push inside her . . .

  “Fuck!” Nate grunted. He stiffened as warm jets of cum landed on his abdomen. He continued milking his cock, still imagining thrusting into Sylvie, fucking her hard into his couch.

  After an indeterminate stretch of time, he looked down at the mess he’d created and muttered, “Fuck.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  She continued cranking the pasta machine. Ramen noodles were everywhere. Tangled in her hair, stuck to the ceiling, hanging from the kitchen cabinet. Flour spilled into a mound on the counter top, the smell of potassium bicarbonate reacting with her dough permeated the air like soured beer. Sylvie needed to get this recipe right.

  Crank.

  Crank.

  Crank.

  Her face started itching from the specks of flour. She swiped her sleeve on her face, but it too was covered in powdery residue.

  “Perfection, Sylvie San. You will never amount to much if you do not strive for perfection,” her chef-mentor’s voice echoed around her.

  Crank.

  Crank.

  Crank.

  The noodles continued to stick together. Too much water? More flour? Sylvie yanked them from the machine in frustration and hurled them on the wall. She grabbed more flour to make more dough, but the air suddenly became pressing. She couldn’t breathe.

  “It will be okay, Sylvie.”

  She looked up, and there was Nana, looking at her with understanding.

  “I can’t let you die, Nana.”

  “It will be okay.”

  “Nana . . .”

  “Sylvie.”

  She awoke to Nate’s frowning face and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

  “You were mumbling in your sleep and uh . . .” He glanced down her body. “Thrashing around.”

  The shirt she was wearing was bunched around her waist exposing her bare vagina. Yanking the shirt down in mortification, she croaked, “A decent man would turn around and leave the room.”

  “I’ve had you wrapped around me in sleep and naked before,” Nate chuckled, although his heightened color indicated he wasn’t as cool as he was letting on. He was sitting on the edge of the bed and made no move to go anywhere. “I’ve witnessed your most embarrassing sleeping habits. Hell, you’ve drooled all over me in your sleep and I still asked you out on a date.”

  Sylvie sat up in bed and grabbed the coffee mug from the nightstand.

  “You have to remind me of that,” she mumbled into the cup.

  “Why not? It was the day we met.” Nate’s lips turned up in a knowing
grin.

  The day in question was the day Sylvie had sat beside Nate on a flight to D.C. They had made small talk all throughout the long-haul flight from California. Never had she been more attracted to this combination of boyish charm that hid a dangerous persona. Her assessment of him was spot on as she would soon find out. A knot of excitement formed in her gut when she found out he was living in D.C. and was not just passing through. Not that she had any illusion of seeing him again after the flight. Six hours was too long to maintain chatter and Sylvie nodded off on Nate’s impressive shoulder. She, however, was far from impressive when she woke up and realized she had drooled all over the man’s expensive dress shirt. She offered to pay for dry cleaning, but Nate asked her out for drinks instead. Three months of a scorching hookup ensued, followed by eight years of friendship and over a year of cold war.

  “What were you dreaming about?” Nate’s unexpected question snapped her out of her reverie. His arm reached out and his fingers brushed stray locks from her face. “It didn’t seem pleasant.”

  “It wasn’t.” Sylvie sighed. “I think my troubles are catching up with me.”

  Nate regarded her thoughtfully, his jaw working tensely. “We need to finish our talk. You were not in a receptive mood last night.” He looked at the mug in her hand. “Drink your coffee. I’ll make breakfast. Waffles okay?”

  She nodded.

  He leaned in and kissed the top of her head before he got up and left the room.

  Although Nate hadn’t made any overt sexual moves, she could sense him nudging their relationship into intimate territory that was in no way platonic. Sylvie didn’t know whether she was thrilled or scared.

  *****

  It took all of Nate’s self-control to walk out of that bedroom. Her pussy exposed for him to see, her legs rumpling the bed covers as she squirmed in her sleep. He was commando under his pajama bottoms, and he’d had to summon all his training to keep his hard-on down. Thankfully, he had made waffles from a box so many times, he didn’t need all his mental faculties to be at 100 percent. Years ago, an ex-girlfriend used his credit card to go shopping at a high-end kitchen store with the hopes of domesticating him. It didn’t work. The ex left with most of the appliances, but at least she left the waffle maker.