Taking It All

  conversation or a few hours of heart-to-heart communication. It would take time and effort on his part to win back her trust—and her love. The two went hand in hand in his book. All solid marriages enjoyed both. Love and trust. One couldn’t exist without the other. She hadn’t really answered his question as to whether she still loved him. All she’d said was that she’d always loved him. Past tense.

  That scared the holy hell out of him.

  He couldn’t imagine his life without Chessy. He loved her with his heart and soul. But he hadn’t shown her his love in a very long time, and actions spoke far louder than words, a token “I love you” from time to time. He’d taken advantage of her love and he’d put her second, maybe even third or fourth on his priorities, a fact that shamed him to his soul and a mistake that would likely haunt him for the rest of his life.

  FIVE

  DAWN filtered through the window treatments of Chessy and Tate’s bedroom and Tate sat in the sitting area, all decorated with Chessy’s loving hand and eye for detail. She’d made their house more than just a residence, a place to exist. She’d made it a comfortable home that immediately made him feel at ease the minute he walked through the door after a long day at work. Because it had her stamped all over it. Every piece of furniture. Every decoration, picture. All of it represented her. Just being in one of the rooms she’d decorated was like having her presence there even when she herself wasn’t in the room, and it had always comforted Tate.

  More than that, just coming home to her was the best part of his day. And yet he hadn’t let her know that in a long time. He’d assumed she knew. And assumptions had gotten him into huge trouble.

  He left their bedroom with purpose, having been up all night thinking of the best line of attack. It was the wrong word but this was most certainly going to be a battle. He’d be a fool not to think it would be the biggest battle of his life and so he’d planned accordingly.

  He tiptoed down the hall and silently cracked the door of the guest room to peek in on Chessy. He saw her in bed, the covers kicked off and tangled at her feet as if she’d slept restlessly. He let his gaze travel up her body to her face, which was turned his way, and winced at her tear-ravaged face. Jesus, she had cried herself to sleep, if she’d slept at all until recently.

  There were definite shadows under her eyes, bruises against her pale, beautiful skin.

  Silently, he retreated, heading for the kitchen to make breakfast, the first in his plan of “attack,” for lack of a better word to use. Wooing? Courting her again? Making her feel loved and special to him? Yeah, all of that.

  Normally he’d serve her breakfast in bed, but she wasn’t in their bed. And he didn’t want her hiding there the entire day, refusing to face him, their marriage, and refusing to save it, because damn it, he wasn’t giving up without one hell of a fight.

  It was game on, and he’d had the better part of the night to reflect on all his mistakes. He planned to start rectifying them now.

  He quickly cooked breakfast, her favorite. A cream cheese bagel with scrambled eggs topped with cheese and skillet- fried ham all piled on the bagel to make a supreme breakfast.

  He made himself one as well even though he wasn’t remotely hungry, but he wanted a semblance of normalcy when he went to get her out of bed. She’d likely resist but it was time for him to take back the reins and right their relationship in the only way he knew how. Reassert his dominance, something he’d failed miserably on for a long damn time. He just hoped to hell he wasn’t too late.

  Not wanting the food to chill, he set their plates at the breakfast nook and quickly walked down the hall to the guest bedroom. When he eased the door open, he saw that she was awake but staring dully out the window, her gaze unfocused and tired, deep bruises underneath her eyes.

  “Chessy,” he said softly.

  She blinked and turned her gaze to him, obviously surprised to see him standing there.

  He walked into the bedroom and over to the bed, sitting on the edge close to where she lay. He trailed one hand through the loose curls that were in disarray over the pillow.

  “I’ve made breakfast for us and then we need to talk. Get up. Don’t bother getting dressed. Just come into the kitchen so we can eat.”

  He inserted firmness into his tone and her eyes widened at his obvious command.

  She started to get up as if on autopilot, used to obeying his orders, but then she hesitated and dropped her gaze, sorrow swamping her features.

  “Chessy, get up,” he said in a more forceful tone. “Breakfast is getting cold.”

  When she lifted her head again, there was so much hope in her eyes that it broke his heart. This is what he hadn’t been giving her. His dominance, his love, his absolute adoration of this woman. He could kill himself for causing her one ounce of pain. But all he could do was pick up the pieces and try like hell to put them all back together again.

  He held out his hand to help her the rest of the way from bed. She quickly glanced at him, wary, but she hesitantly reached up and slipped her soft hand into his.

  Heat immediately scorched up his arm, desire sliding up his spine and back down, spreading rapidly through his balls. His dick hardened to the point of physical pain. Damn it, they still had combustible chemistry. Why hadn’t he been acting on it lately? The few selfish nights of sex where he took but didn’t give back was hardly the lovemaking she deserved.

  He watched her closely, observing her body language as she rose from the bed, her hand held tightly in his. As though he were afraid of losing her, wanting to hold on to something tangible and not let her escape.

  A strong surge of triumph slammed into his chest when he saw her nipples tighten through her thin pajama top and her cheeks were flushed with the same answering desire.

  He had hope. She hadn’t lost her desire for him. It was a start.

  Wordlessly, he led her out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. The words he wanted so badly to say would have to wait. He had a distinct plan. Have breakfast together, regain a sense of normalcy and then he’d lay it out to her. Put himself at her feet and bare his very soul to her.

  A small smile escaped her when she saw the plates on the table and realized he’d cooked her favorite. But she didn’t utter a sound as she sat down, her shoulders hunched, her gaze firmly plastered downward. Avoiding his. As if she couldn’t bear to face him yet.

  “Eat, baby,” he said quietly as he took his own seat.

  Though his words were said softly, there was authority behind them. A command. One of a Dominant to his submissive.

  She sent a shy look in his direction, one of uncertainty, and yet hope registered once again on her features. Was she battling with herself over whether to accept his gestures? He hadn’t even begun his line of attack. If she thought he believed that all could be solved by merely a breakfast—her favorite—and a few commanding words here and there, she was mistaken. He well knew the seriousness and the direness of this situation and he was well prepared for all he wanted to say.

  Finally she cut into her bagel, taking a forkful and putting it to her mouth. With so much on top, it required a knife and fork to eat.

  He dug into his own, swallowing it with difficulty. It was tasteless, stuck in his throat, and he wanted to leave it uneaten, but he could hardly sit there while she ate and not eat himself. He wanted these quiet moments while they were eating to put her more at ease for the ensuing conversation they would have.

  She fiddled with her fork and then cut small pieces with her knife, but he could tell her heart wasn’t any more into it than he was.

  “Can’t eat, baby?” he asked gently.

  She lifted her gaze to his for the first time since they’d begun eating. There was an almost pleading look in her eyes as she shook her head.

  “I can’t,” she said in a low voice. “It sits in my stomach like lead.”

  “Mine too, my girl. What do you say we toss breakfast and then go into the living room and talk. There’s a hell of a
lot I want to say and the waiting is agony.”

  She sent him a startled look at that, her lips parting in surprise. Hell, did she honestly think this wasn’t hell for him? That she was the only one suffering?

  He rose from the table, pushing back the plate he’d clean up later. He held out his hand as he’d done in the bedroom, waiting for her to take it so they could go into the living room and talk. Finally talk this out. He had a hell of a lot to say and the words were burning his lips, dying to burst free.

  When they entered the living room, she started to break free of his hold and head for the fluffy armchair that was her favorite. He tightened his hold on her hand and steered her toward the couch instead. He firmly sat her down at the end so the arm of the couch would support her and she’d be comfortable and then he sat right next to her, their thighs touching, and he turned himself sideways, pulling up one leg onto the couch so he sat facing her profile.

  “Look at me, Chessy.”

  She turned slowly, her face pale, fear in her beautiful eyes. He swallowed back the knot in his throat because this was not the time to hesitate or stand down. He had to pull a full-court press.

  “First thing I want to say to you, because it was never addressed last night.”

  She sent him a faintly puzzled look but at least he had her full attention now.

  “I have never been unfaithful to you, Chessy,” he said in a clear, distinct and earnest voice. “I have never even entertained the thought. I love you. You are the only woman I ever want to be with.”

  Chessy’s breath intake was swift and sharp. She stared at him for a long moment, searching his face, as if for the truth in his words.

  “Then who was that woman last night?” she choked out. “On our anniversary, who was the woman who was all over you in the bar of the restaurant we were supposed to eat at?”

  The bitterness in her voice made him wince. He’d never expected their marriage to come to this. Not only was she questioning his fidelity, but she was also questioning every aspect of their marriage. And all of his shortcomings and failures over the last two years.

  “She was a potential client,” he said, looking her straight in the eye. “I don’t know what the hell you thought you saw, but I was not all over that woman. I was having drinks with her and discussing the possibility of her transferring her portfolio to me. She’d be a big coup. Her husband died and left her a lot of money. Most of it in stocks and bonds, and she’s unhappy with the financial advisor her husband used. So yes, I was having drinks with her. I told her I could only meet with her a short time as I had another commitment. I got delayed. Time got away from me. I had no idea so much time had passed, baby. I would never purposely do anything to hurt you. You have to believe that.”

  “But you have hurt me,” she whispered. “Over and over again. I can’t even count on two hands the times you’ve left me for a client. When we’re at friends’, with Dash and Joss or Kylie and Jensen. When I’m alone at the house on a weekend because you’re off golfing with clients or taking them to dinner. Without me. You used to include me in your dinners and social affairs but then you quit. Are you ashamed of me? Did I fail you in some way?”

  He was shocked by her outburst. God, by the magnitude of hurt she was feeling. All piled up and finally exploding last night—and now. It flayed his heart open and he was bleeding on the inside for all he’d done to this precious woman.

  “God no, Chessy! Fail me? Me ashamed of you? You are the most beautiful woman in the world to me. You light up the entire room when you enter. Ashamed? Jesus Christ. I didn’t want to burden you anymore. I could see how it was affecting you being called upon so many times, always going out, or entertaining in and you taking care of all the details. I could see the toll it was taking on you. I never wanted that for you. I wanted you to be financially secure and for you to do whatever the hell you wanted in your free time. Not always having to rush around because of the obligations I had. They weren’t yours to bear.”

  “I never minded,” she said in barely above a whisper. “I felt important to you. Like we were a team. I wanted to support you. Be there for you. And then it was the only way I got to spend time with you because you were always gone, always on the phone, never here with me. And then I lost that too. I lost you.”

  “You haven’t lost me, damn it! Chessy, I love you. I can’t say that enough. Nor can I say I’m sorry enough. I wish to hell I could say that I saw when everything went all wrong, but it just happened gradually and I took for granted that you’d always be here. My wife. The woman I loved.”

  “Don’t you turn this around on me,” she said, fire sparking in the eyes that had been dull and filled with sorrow just minutes ago. “Don’t you dare insinuate that I haven’t been here. I’ve been here every damn day. Waiting for my husband to come home. To be here. To fulfill my needs. You’re supposed to be my Dominant, Tate! And even my friends and their significant others can see you aren’t living up to your promise to me when I gave you my submission.”

  Tate’s lips thinned into a tight line. “What the hell do you mean about Dash and Jensen seeing anything?”

  Chessy gave him a tired look. “They’re both dominant and they treat Joss and Kylie like queens. I’ve heard from them time and time again that in return for the gift of my submission you’re supposed to put my needs above all others. That you’re to cherish me and my gift absolutely. Respect it. Recognize how precious such a gift is. And they said you’re failing miserably. Now how do you think that makes me feel to have my marriage picked apart and judged by my best friends and their husbands, or rather husband and lover in Kylie’s case.”

  Tate let out a low growl. “They have no right to judge anything. What we do is our business and our business alone. Our marriage is not up for public speculation. Ever.”

  Chessy’s accusing eyes found his. “It seems that if you were living up to your promise and acting as a true Dominant, not to mention husband and lover, that no one would have fodder to point out your shortcomings.”

  The shot hit home and left him devoid of speech for several moments. She was right and it hurt that he had no comeback. No excuse.

  “There’s no one else in this relationship except you and me,” he finally said in an even voice. “I readily admit that I’ve royally fucked up and I intend to rectify that starting now. This is our anniversary weekend and I intend to salvage it.”

  She looked at him for a long moment, hope stirring in her eyes. “How?” she whispered.

  “It goes beyond a simple weekend,” he continued, briefly ignoring her question. “There’s a hell of a lot more I have to make up for and a weekend won’t do that. I have to start over, from the beginning, and make damn sure I never let you down again. Going forward you will be put first in everything, Chessy. I don’t expect you to believe it right away. I have to regain your trust and, God, I hope your love as well. I’m not letting you go without a fight.”

  Chessy’s expression softened and she offered him the first smile he’d seen in so very long. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled, and that hurt him. He couldn’t look back and pinpoint a time. And now he realized just how long she’d been miserably unhappy. He’d ignored it. Ignored the signs, so wrapped up in his job and ensuring his business grew and flourished after his partner had bailed. All at the expense of the one person he loved most in the world.

  “I do love you, Tate. So very much. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

  “Thank God,” he whispered fervently, relief pouring over him.

  “I don’t want to leave you,” she said as fervently as he had. “That was never an option for me. I hope I never gave you that impression. God, it’s the very last thing I ever want. I can’t imagine my life without you—your love. I just want . . . us . . . back. That’s all I want. Your dominance, your love, your priority. That isn’t too much to ask, is it? Am I being selfish? I’ve fought with myself for two years, feeling guilty—and selfish—for craving your attention
and love when I knew you were working so hard to keep your business going. But I can’t do it anymore. I don’t care if I sound selfish. I want us back!”

  He pulled her into his arms, praying she didn’t resist. He hugged her tightly, wrapping his arms around her, encompassing her until she was fully against him, her soft body molded to his. Finally she relaxed against him, her rigidity gone. She let out a soft sigh and rested her cheek against his chest.

  “You aren’t being selfish,” he said fiercely. “Everything you’ve said is what I should have been giving you. It’s my failure, not yours. I swear to you, Chessy, everything is going to change starting now. I know I fucked up our anniversary night, but I want a do-over. Everything starts now. We have the weekend just to ourselves. I’m turning my goddamn phone off. I don’t give a fuck about business. Not if it means I don’t have you.”

  He pulled her gently away so he could look into her eyes, judge her decision. They were full of hope—and relief.

  “Baby, I know a weekend can’t fix what’s between us. I know I have to regain your trust and faith in me and that’s going to take longer than a few days, but I swear to you that if you give me the chance, I’ll get us back. That’s what you said you wanted, wasn’t it?”

  Slowly she nodded.

  “Then that’s what I’m going to work on,” he vowed. “It—and you—will be my foremost priority. I know you’ll have to wait and see to judge my sincerity, but I will not give you any reason to doubt where you are on my priorities from this point forward.”

  Then she smiled and he couldn’t breathe. It was so radiant, lighting up the room. His old Chessy, the one who sparkled and shone just by being was back, even if just for a moment. The light that he’d effectively stomped out repeatedly over the last while. God, all he wanted to do was take her to bed and make love to her.

  “That’s all I want, Tate,” she whispered. “Just you. Nothing else. I don’t care about money and financial security if I don’t get to enjoy it with the man who holds my heart.”

  The man who holds my heart.

  The sheer magnitude of that statement was humbling. He very nearly went to his knees in front of her to beg her forgiveness all over again.

  “Kiss me,” he whispered, so choked up he could barely get the words out.

  He gently cupped her face, framing it in his hands, and he lowered his mouth to hers, drinking in her sweetness and the sweet little sigh she breathed into his mouth.

  He stroked her cheeks, caressing, unable to get enough of simply touching her, tangling his hands in her wayward curls.

  “Will you make love with me, Chessy? Right here and now? Let me seal my promise to you?”

  Her intake of breath was swift and her gaze lifted to his, hazy with desire, her pupils dilated in familiar fashion. Thank God she still wanted him. That her heart was big enough for forgiveness. He didn’t suffer any illusion that another woman would have walked away a long time ago. But his girl had a heart the size of the state they lived in.

  “I want that,” she whispered, leaning her cheek into his palm as if seeking his touch. “So much, Tate.”

  He slid one arm underneath the bend of her legs and then anchored his other around her waist, effortlessly lifting her to cradle her in his arms.

  For a long moment, all he did was stare into her eyes, absorbing her acceptance like a parched desert soaking in its first rain in months.

  And then he slowly walked toward their bedroom.

  SIX

  CHESSY relaxed her body against Tate’s, absorbing his strength, his solid, muscled frame as he walked them through the doorway of their bedroom. She rested her head on his shoulder and splayed her fingers out across his chest just below the hollow of his throat.

  How many weeks—months—had she yearned for this? To be made love to, with or without all the accouterments of dominance, by her husband. Her entire heart, body and soul ached for him. To reconnect in the most intimate of ways, to say with their bodies all they couldn’t say with mere words.

  She was almost afraid of his phone ringing. It was only with the fiercest of restraints that she didn’t search for it, looking to see if it was attached to his hip as it always was. She forced herself not to think about it and to savor his promise that finally, finally he was focusing on just the two of them. No business associates, no clients—potential or otherwise. Just her and him and trying to rebuild all that they had lost.

  He gently laid her down on the bed, standing over her, a fierce gleam in his eyes. His gaze was predatory as it raked over her, undressing her before he even touched her rumpled pajamas.

  A delicate shiver worked its way over her body. Delicious anticipation. So much wanting and desire pent up inside her that she felt near to bursting.

  Then he reached down and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her pajama bottoms and slid them slowly and reverently down her legs. He tossed them aside and then carefully unbuttoned her top from the bottom up, parting the material so her breasts were bared.

  He lifted her just enough that he could pull the top free and it went the way of her bottoms, disappearing from view. All that was left was the lacy, sheer panties that she’d purposely worn the evening before in anticipation of their anniversary.

  Tate stared down at her, his eyes glowing in appreciation, taking in her near-naked body lying on the bed below him.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “The most beautiful girl in the world to me.”

  She was sure she glowed as she smiled up at him, absorbing his words into her heart. She held up her arms for him, inviting him to lower himself onto her body. He took only long enough to strip out of his clothing before complying with her silent request.

  His cock pressed against the V of her legs as his body blanketed hers. He nuzzled his lips against her neck and then kissed and sucked a line down to her breasts, shifting his body downward so he could feast on her.

  He circled her nipple with his tongue, coaxing it to a rigid bud before sucking it firmly between his teeth. He flicked his tongue over the tip, his teeth grazing the tender flesh. She squirmed beneath him, breathless with pleasure.

  She caressed his shoulders, enjoying the ridges of his muscles, tracing with her fingertips, the flesh solid and firm beneath her touch.

  Then he went lower still. After giving each breast equal treatment, his mouth