Taking It All (Surrender Trilogy #3)(22)

“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.