Taking it All (9 page)

TATE
gazed at Chessy's bright smile as they sat in a corner table of the new steakhouse in the same suburb of Houston they lived in. It was a mere five-minute drive from their house, and while they were certainly acquainted with most of the restaurants in the fast-developing Woodlands, this was a place that had just opened a few months before and already promised success judging by the number of people in the spacious interior.

Some of the awful weight that had pressed on his heart had eased and he was feeling optimistic about his and Chessy's future. How could he not rededicate himself to this beautiful woman and vow to put her first before all else? It was no less than she deserved and he'd made her a promise five years ago when she'd given him her heart—and her submission—to cherish those gifts absolutely.

That he'd failed was a burden he'd carry with him to the grave, but it wasn't too late. There were no lengths he wouldn't go to in order to secure her love and faith once more.

He gazed at her shining eyes and his mind drifted, an image of her bound in a position of utter submission, the hands of another man caressing her under Tate's watchful eye. Another man commanding her, via Tate's command, preparing her for Tate's possession.

It was a kink they both enjoyed, had made it a point to participate in at The House on a regular basis before Tate got so involved with his business. Then The House and the activities had fallen by the wayside, something Tate intended to correct soon.

But first he had to cement his recommitment to her. Ensure that she knew in her heart she was first in his heart. And then he'd plan a night of utter decadence. All focused on Chessy and her pleasure. It would be a gift to her. His gift.

“Oh no,” Chessy whispered, her eyes suddenly stricken.

Her words and expression yanked Tate from his erotic reverie and he frowned as he took in her obvious distress.

“What's wrong?” he demanded, looking around to see what could have caused her to be upset.

“Kylie and Joss must be so worried,” Chessy said anxiously. “They knew all about our anniversary plans and I was supposed to call them this morning to check in. I completely forgot about it.”

Tate smiled, though he could feel the tightness in his features. Yes, Joss and Kylie were Chessy's best friends, and as such, he supposed they shared everything. Too much for Tate's liking. It was obvious that not only his wife's closest friends had been scrutinizing his marriage but also Dash and Jensen. A fact that didn't sit well with Tate. He was a very private person and the idea of his personal life being the topic of conversation, not to mention judgment, of others dug under his skin.

But in this case the truth hurt and if he wasn't so guilty of neglecting his wife then the scrutiny of others wouldn't hit so close to home with him. It was a cross he had to bear. But he'd be damned if he hung his head when in the company of Chessy's friends.
His
friends. They weren't just his wife's friends. Hell, he'd inserted himself into Dash's relationship with Joss when Dash had nearly blown everything all to hell. Tate had been furious with Dash, rightfully so, but the hypocrisy that was so evident was appalling.

He and Dash went way back. As had their relationship with Carson, Joss's first husband. Only Jensen was new to the mix, but all evidence pointed to him being a solid addition to the close-knit group of friends. He made Kylie happy, and of all people, Kylie deserved happiness.

“I'm sure they aren't worried,” Tate said in a reassuring tone. “The fact that they haven't heard from you is good, wouldn't you think? If things had gone badly, you would have called them. I'm sure they take silence as a good thing. They likely think we're still in bed, and were it not for the fact that I promised you a do-over of dinner, that's exactly where we would be right now.”

Her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink and her eyes blazed with quick desire. It made him want to haul her right out of the restaurant and not stop until they were back home in their bed, her naked and underneath him.

“You're right,” she admitted. “They were just so worried about me.” Her features twisted and she grimaced with her admission. “Lord knows I gave them cause to worry. I seriously thought my marriage was over.”

Tate's gut clenched and it took everything he had to sit there in a semblance of a relaxed posture as she stated so matter-of-factly that she'd thought their marriage was over. Unable to keep from touching her, he reached for her hand and lifted it to his mouth, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of her palm.

“Never that, baby. I can only say, again, how sorry I am for not putting you first. But I won't make that mistake again.”

“Let's not rehash it all over again,” she said, her lips in a determined line. “Let's put it behind us where it belongs and start over from right here and now.”

“Now that sounds like an excellent plan,” he said in satisfaction. “Would you like dessert? I know what I want, and it's not on the menu.”

She flushed again as she let her hand drop from his hold. Then she shook her head. “I'd rather go home,” she whispered.

Tate held up a hand for the distant waiter before the words were fully out of her mouth. He handed the server his credit card and watched as he hurried away to total the bill. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the table as he waited for the check to return. The minute the waiter reappeared, Tate scrawled the tip, added it to the amount and then hastily signed the slip, shoving it aside as he stood.

He hovered over Chessy, helping her to her feet as she collected her purse, and then he guided her toward the exit to the parking lot where he ushered her into the passenger seat of his car.

He immediately reached for her hand, anchoring it to his in the console between the two seats. Something so small and seemingly insignificant as her touch was something he'd missed. Not until now had he realized just how much he'd missed seeing her, talking to her, touching her. No amount of money or financial security was worth the loss of her love.

“I love you,” he said, glancing briefly in her direction.

Her warm smile of complete happiness took his breath away.

Already he was planning their evening at home. Reasserting his dominance was something he knew she wanted but was difficult for him. Because for all practical purposes it should be him on his knees in supplication before her, begging her forgiveness all over again, not her kneeling in submission before him.

But his dominance was not something she just wanted. It was a need. For both of them. And getting back to the roots of their relationship was essential for peace of mind for both of them. It was important that Chessy felt safe and secure in their marriage once more. Tate would do whatever necessary to ensure her happiness.

When they pulled into the concrete drive, Tate came to a stop outside the garage where Chessy's Mercedes SUV was parked and he cut the engine.

When she would have opened her door to get out, he squeezed her hand to hold her in place.

“Go inside to the bedroom. Undress and kneel on the carpet in front of the fireplace and wait for me,” he said, injecting a note of authority into his tone.

Her eyes widened, hope spreading like wildfire through her expression, and then her eyes became half-lidded as smoldering desire replaced her momentary surprise. She expelled a soft sigh, one of relief as though she'd waited for just this event. The moment when he retook the reins in their relationship. Shame crawled up his neck and spread over his chest, tightening until he could barely draw breath. No wife, regardless of whether she was in a position of submissiveness or not, should ever be faced with a failure of a husband.

When he loosened his grip on her hand, giving her silent permission to go, she fumbled with her seatbelt and hurriedly got out of her seat. He followed her up the short sidewalk to their front door and unlocked it before pushing it open for her to precede him.

He purposely delayed, giving her time to go into the bedroom and ready herself. And well, he had to mentally prepare himself for what lay ahead because it was difficult for him to be commanding and authoritative when all he wanted was to cherish her, wrap her in his tenderness and make up for all the pain he'd caused her.

While he could bring himself to command her and to delight in her submissiveness, there was no way in hell he'd touch her precious skin with a crop or his hand. Even the beauty of pleasurable pain had lost its luster and for the time being he couldn't swallow the thought of indulging in something that had before always brought them immeasurable satisfaction. There would be no blurring the line between pleasure and pain tonight. He wanted only to bring her pleasure. To reestablish their emotional connection by reforging the physical bonds between them.

When enough time had passed that he could be assured she would be prepared for him, he walked slowly to the bedroom, holding his breath in anticipation of his first glimpse of her. Beautiful. Naked. Kneeling in magnificent submission as she waited for him and his command.

His pulse accelerated as he pushed open the already ajar door and then he saw her.

His breath left in one long exhalation and he was suddenly unsteady on his feet. He gripped the frame of the door until his knuckles were white as his gaze slowly traversed her beautiful body.

She was the picture-perfect image of complete submission. Kneeling on the soft rug in front of the fireplace, her body silhouetted by the light shining from the bathroom, his wife rested, awaiting him. His command. But speech escaped him. He could barely form a coherent thought much less put to words a description that did her any justice.

Long flowing hair fell down her back, a section artfully arranged over one shoulder and playing an erotic game of peekaboo with one dusky pink nipple. His mouth watered as he imagined tasting the twin peaks. Running his tongue over the puckered ridges and sucking them until they were hard and aching.

He could almost hear her low moan of pleasure. It only brought home to him just how long he'd gone without hearing the sounds of her satisfaction. How remiss he'd been in providing the pleasure she deserved.

“Forgive me, Chessy,” he whispered in a voice he knew she wouldn't hear. It wasn't as though he didn't feel she deserved the plea for forgiveness, but he was determined to forge ahead and not bring yet another reminder of how much he'd failed her. Not tonight when so much promised to be right. Finally right again.

As though sensing his quiet perusal, her chin tilted up, her gaze finding his. Their eyes locked, hers simmering with need and desire. He was sure his were a perfect match to hers.

“You're beautiful,” he said, so she'd hear.

Her eyes reflected her pleasure at his words.

“I'm glad you find me beautiful,” she said in a low voice that hummed deliciously over his ears, sending awareness deep into his body.

“Do you doubt your beauty to me?” he asked, though he knew it wasn't well done of him to ask such a question. How could she believe he found her beautiful still after five years of marriage when his actions had pointed to just the opposite?

Would a man who still loved his wife and thought her to be the most gorgeous woman in the world treat her the way he had?

Yes.

He winced at his frank admission. But yes, he did still love his wife, and yes, he thought she was the most beautiful woman on earth, and yes, he'd treated her as though neither were true.

“No,” she said without hesitation. “You've removed all the worry I had that you no longer desired me or found me beautiful. When you look at me like you're doing right now, I
feel
beautiful.”

He crossed the distance between them and gently threaded his fingers through her hair, stroking and allowing the strands to spill over his hands like the finest silk.

“I'm very glad you feel beautiful, Chessy. Because you are. And in no way should the way I look at you be the measure by which you consider your beauty. You're beautiful inside
and
out. A more loving, giving woman I've never known. And you're
mine
,” he said with ultimate satisfaction. “I'm never letting you go. Never doubt how beautiful you are to me. To others. You shine, baby. When you walk into a room, everyone stops to look at you. You're a joy to watch. Your kindness and compassion glow from the depths of your soul. I don't deserve you. I never have. But thank God you're mine anyway.”

She angled her head, nuzzling her cheek into his palm as he gently stroked the satiny-soft skin with his fingertips, simply enjoying the way she reacted to his touch. So responsive. So honest. There was no holding back for her. It was one of the many things he loved so much about her.

She had no inhibitions. She didn't just live life. She attacked it. What she enjoyed, she enjoyed wholeheartedly with zest and fervor that attracted people to her. Others just flocked to Chessy, her personality a magnet that held people in her thrall. It was one of the main reasons he'd taken her to so many business functions in the beginning. Before he felt guilty for using her to further his career. It sounded worse than it was. The word
used
wasn't a pleasant one. But he'd benefitted from her ability to have people—especially men—eating out of her hand. Not that women weren't similarly drawn to Chessy's warmth and genuine sweetness. But he wasn't an idiot. He knew his wife's effect on the opposite sex. Just as he knew she'd never in a million years even entertain the thought of straying. Not his girl.