by Maya Banks
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 traditional and quaint and in a lot of ways outdated.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.”
NINE
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, pickin
g 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.
TEN
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
