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Taking It All(10)

By:Maya Banks

       
           



       

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?"