Taking it All (5 page)

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.”