Taking it All (8 page)

She sighed blissfully. “You take such good care of me, darling. I love you for that.”

He leaned in and kissed her on the nose and then patted the top of her thigh. “Eat up. I don't want to leave you to take my shower until I know for certain you're going to be able to keep down your toast.”

CHESSY
awoke, the late afternoon sun filtering through the bay window of their bedroom. She was surrounded by warmth and strength. Tate's body was wrapped around her, arms anchoring her to him, one leg thrown possessively over hers while her head was pillowed on his broad shoulder.

She let out an imperceptible sigh, not wanting to wake him and spoil the first moment of true contentment she'd felt in a very long time. All felt right with the world. She wasn't a fool to think that everything had been miraculously fixed with Tate's magic peen, but it was a start.

Their lovemaking had been a coming together of two lost souls. Or at least hers had been lost until now. She'd been bereft of his presence for so long and she couldn't remember the last time she'd awakened in his arms, or that they'd spent the better part of a
day
in bed.

He was always hurrying out to work in the mornings with barely a kiss on her forehead and a gruff “hope my girl has a good day” before he was off, with her never even knowing when she'd see him again.

It was hard not to focus on those not so great times even when here and now the world seemed perfect. He'd certainly nailed it when he'd said that their relationship couldn't be fixed in a single weekend, but the ever-optimistic side of her knew that it was
something
. That he was giving her something he hadn't been giving her in over a year. Himself. His absolute priority and attention. His love that in her darker moments she'd thought she had lost. But he'd been utterly sincere last night and this morning, especially this morning when neither of them was so volatile and overly emotional. She knew Tate hadn't liked going to bed the night before with things still unresolved between them but she also knew she was right for putting it off until a time when they both had the night to reflect and better think of how and what needed to be said.

“Is my girl awake?”

Tate's voice rumbled from his chest and she smiled against his chest where her lips rested.

“You're smiling,” he said.

Her smile broadened. This was the old Tate. Always so in tune with her every movement, her every thought. She closed her eyes, simply savoring the moment, drinking it in. It very nearly brought tears to her eyes but she refused to allow them because she feared he'd take it the wrong way and they'd be right back at square one.

Instead she simply nodded, confirming what he already knew. He hugged her to him more tightly and brushed an affectionate kiss on the top of her head.

“Not that I'm not loving exactly where I am and having you naked and in my arms, but I promised you a do-over of our anniversary dinner out, and if we're going to make it, we need to get up and moving. I need to get cleaned up and I was thinking about a dual shower, one where I wash and pamper you. And then we have dinner and then come back home so I can make love to you all over again.”

“Mmmm,” she said against his chest. “That sounds wonderful, Tate.”

“I'm glad,” he said gruffly. “I owe you so much more, but I promise that you're going to get that from me twenty-four-seven from now on.”

She pushed up to her elbow so that she looked down at his contented, sleepy eyes as they gleamed back at her.

“I believe you,” she said quietly.

Relief brightened his eyes, fire quickly replacing any signs of sleepiness. “Thank you for that, Chess. You have no idea what your forgiveness means. And your willingness to give me another chance.”

She reached down and lovingly cupped a hand to his face, stroking the chiseled line of his cheekbone with her thumb. Then she leaned down and kissed him. For once she was in a position of control, her over him, taking the initiative.

His hand immediately went to the back of her head, tangling in her hair, but he was careful to allow her to direct the kiss. It was almost as if he were still treading in very careful waters, and if he only knew that wasn't what she wanted from him at all. She
wanted
him to assert his control—his dominance—over her again. She craved it with everything she had in her heart and soul.

She was born for this man. Born to be his submissive and he her Dominant. It was a need that defied reason or explanation. Some things just were and for her that was their relationship. She hated to even use the word marriage because it was so . . . traditional and quaint and in a lot of ways outdated. What they had between them went far beyond the edges of most married couples' faith and trust in each other. The things she offered Tate, the things he demanded of her, could well be grossly misunderstood by outsiders unfamiliar with the dominance/submissive lifestyle and how deeply emotional and connected—profoundly connected—those bonds were. Yes, she had a kick-ass diamond wedding set but that wasn't what made her Tate's girl.

She literally put her entire safety, her well-being, into Tate's hands. And in return, there was not a more cared for woman on the earth. Well, when things were normal between them . . . Their relationship defied convention and neither of them gave one damn. They made the rules. No one else. And most of the rules were made by Tate.

There wasn't a handbook on “how to be a proper Dominant” out there. Tate would have laughed himself silly over the idea that he needed some “how-to” book in order to live his life and satisfy his cherished submissive. Maybe those sorts of guides worked for other couples, and if they did, more power to them. But that wasn't the way it worked between Chessy and Tate. It never had been.

Tate made the decisions and he didn't give a flying fuck if he was thumbing his nose at propriety or paying homage to others who lived the same lifestyle.

In the very beginning of Chessy and Tate's relationship he made it very clear what he wanted and told Chessy that this may not be the way she thought such a relationship would work, but he'd be damned if he playacted some cookie-cutter “Dom” scene from an instructional manual. Over his dead body would he have others directing his relationship with his wife! His cherished submissive.

“What's my girl thinking?” he queried softly, taking in her pensive expression.

“That you don't bear the sole blame for the current state of our relationship.”

When he would have immediately launched a protest, she gently put her fingers to his lips to silence him.

“Just moments ago you were grateful that I still loved you, that I forgave you and that I was willing to give you another chance. But Tate, the same goes both ways. I could have said something much sooner than now. I could have been honest with you earlier on. I think I should also be asking your forgiveness and for another chance to make things right between us. I let the lines of communications completely give way between us. Yes, you share responsibility in that. Communication is a two-way street. But I should have been bolder in asking for what it was I wanted—demanded—from you much like you demanded certain things from me in our relationship. I was just . . . afraid,” she said, her voice going lower and lower until she trailed off into a husky whisper.

“Afraid of what, baby?” he asked gently.

She found his gaze again, swallowed back her nerves. “I was afraid that if I pushed, then you'd realize I wasn't what you wanted anymore. That you didn't need me. That I was just a burden—an unwanted burden. I was afraid you'd walk away. And so I tried to be as undemanding and understanding as I could even though I was dying on the inside. But then it all became too much and I could no longer be that person anymore. I had to take the risk, because the reward for not taking the risk was no reward. It was
hell
.”

The stark way she said the last made Tate suck in his breath like someone had punched him directly in the stomach.

“Do you have any idea how much it guts me to have to listen to you say that? About me? Your husband, your Dominant, your lover? All I can look back and see is that I never made it
possible
for you to come to me with your unhappiness. How could you have told me if I wasn't willing to hear it?”

He rose up to his elbow, planting it in the pillow so they were now nose-to-nose.

“I will never walk away from you, Chess. Not going to happen. I don't know why the hell you haven't walked away from
me
. No other woman would love me, continue loving me, in the face of such emotional neglect. I've spent the entire afternoon while you've been sleeping all curled up next to me thanking
God
that you still love me and actually forgive me for nearly destroying the most precious thing in my life. You, baby. You. And I almost
did
destroy you, and me along with you. Because I cannot imagine my life without you. I don't
want
to imagine my life without you. If I have anything to say about it at all, you and I are going to grow old and gray together and loving every single minute of it. There is no Tate without Chessy and I hope to hell there's never a Chessy without Tate.”

She smiled at the poetic rendering of their relationship. So simple and yet so elegant and beautiful. No Chessy without Tate and no Tate without Chessy. It certainly fit her way of thinking when it came to the man she married and loved with all her heart.

“I love you,” she said, thinking—no,
knowing
—he needed to hear it again. As emotionally fragile as she had been over the last long months, she now realized he was every bit as emotionally fragile right now. Now when he understood all he had to lose.

He touched his forehead to hers and just rested it there, their breaths mingling, eyes closed as they savored the intimacy of such a simple gesture.

“I love my girl too,” he breathed. “And now I'm going to get my girl in the shower and give her a washing she's not going to forget any time soon, and I mean every part from head to toe and especially the parts in between are going to get very special treatment.”

ONE
playful shower and one Tate-induced orgasm when he paid a little extra attention to the area between her legs later, Chessy sat at her vanity while Tate carefully ran a comb through her towel-dried curls.

Her entire body was quivering in the aftermath of the powerful orgasm. She'd had to sit because there was no way her legs would have supported her straight out of the shower. The result was a small puddle of water on the floor where it had drained off her body and from her hair, but it was the last thing on her mind.

She smiled up at Tate in the reflection of the mirror and then closed her eyes, savoring one of her favorite things that Tate had done so often over the years. Tend to her hair. She was a total tactile person, loved being touched and loved having her hair brushed or simply played with.

She couldn't count the times in earlier years when she and Tate would simply lie on the couch, her head in his lap as he idly ran his fingers through her strands as they watched a movie. It would always count as one of her best memories.

Her eyelids fluttered open and her smile disappeared for a brief moment. Before she could recover, Tate was already frowning back at her in the mirror, a questioning look in his eyes.

“What's wrong, baby? Did I hurt you? Am I not being gentle enough with your hair?”

She laughed. “As if. You're a master at combing a woman's hair. If you ever get tired of financial advising, you can always start up a salon. You'd have women coming in droves just for those hands of yours. Which, by the way, are totally mine. I'll chop them off before allowing another woman access!”

He looked befuddled for the briefest of seconds and then threw back his head and laughed. But then he sobered and focused his stare back on her.

“What were you frowning about then?”

She fidgeted uneasily on her vanity bench, not wanting to bring up a bad subject. But Tate wasn't going to allow her to dodge his question. Quietly he rotated her, picking up her legs and swiveling her body until she faced him. Then he got down on one knee and cupped his hand to her face.

“Tell me.”

She sighed. “I know I shouldn't ask. I mean, that's not the way our relationship works, and I don't want you to get the idea that I want our relationship to change. That I don't want your dominance and for you to make the decisions. But . . .”

“Ask, baby,” he prompted gently. “I think we both know we're at a fragile point in our relationship where the rules are temporarily changing. They have to. Because I need to know what your needs and wants are. I'd want to know that regardless of whether it's now or two years ago. I've always wanted you to communicate your needs to me. How else can I fulfill them?

“Yes, it's my job as your Dominant to often know your wants and needs before you do even, and it's my job to provide those for you. But I've been a complete dumbass and as a result—and it's painful for me to admit, but I'm man enough to own up to my failures—I am out of touch with your desires. I hate even saying that. But you're going to have to help me until we're back on track. That open line of communication we were just discussing in bed a while ago? That has to be in place going forward.”

She nodded her understanding, breathing out her relief. They would be okay. She could feel it. Tate was going to extraordinary lengths for a man so used to being in control of every aspect of his life. But he was right. They were in anything but control right now and it would take them both to right the ship and get back to smooth waters.

“I just wanted to know where you planned for us to have dinner tonight,” she said in a low voice. “I don't . . . I don't want to go back to where we were supposed to have dinner last night. I don't think I could handle it. There was a lot of humiliation in last night for me. I don't want to even remember it. I'd rather just go somewhere else and truly start over again.”

The look of love, understanding and self-recrimination all crowding into his eyes made her emotional and she had to swallow hard at the knot forming in her throat.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead and left them there a long moment. When he pulled away, he framed her face in his hands and stared her directly in the eyes.

“I'd never do that to you, my girl. I thought we'd go to a place we've never been before. I've heard good things about it. I've already made a reservation. I placed one online before I got you up this morning. I want a fresh start too. It'll be a new beginning all the way around.”

Relief and love coursed through her veins. To her dismay, a tear rolled down her cheek and collided with one of his hands. Damn it but she'd been determined not to cry. She'd done entirely too much of that the night before. As it was, it was going to take her best makeup job to disguise the shadows under her eyes before they went out to dinner. And she wanted to look her best for Tate tonight. Just as they wouldn't be eating in the same restaurant, neither would she wear the same outfit she'd worn the night before.

But Tate seemed to understand that she wasn't upset. His expression grew even more tender and he leaned in and kissed away the path of the single tear that had trickled onto his hand.

“I love you, Chess. Please don't ever forget that.”

“I love you too,” she whispered. “Now shoo so I can finish getting ready. How much time do I have?”

He checked his watch and then helped her to her feet, patting her lightly on the behind. “Forty-five minutes before we need to leave, so get a move on, baby. I'll go get dressed and meet you in the living room.”

She sent him a brilliant smile, one she could feel in the tightening of her cheeks, and she was rewarded by an answering smile from him that took her breath away. There was so much promise in that smile that she was besieged by a surge of giddiness. She all but skipped to her closet to pick out what she would wear. Her hair still needed to be blown dry, but she'd save that for after her wardrobe had been selected and then she'd do hair and makeup before dressing.