Okay, so maybe they hadn't made love in a while. A long while. He winced inwardly again as he pondered and tried to remember the last time they had truly made love.
There had been hasty sessions. No buildup. No extended foreplay. Totally selfish on his part because he'd had sex with her and then he was off to work or to a meeting with a client.
Yes, he'd just used the word sex to describe their lovemaking. Because, well, what he'd done lately amounted to just that. Selfish sex. Not seeing properly to her needs. Not exerting his dominance. Something she didn't just want but needed. Yet another dismal example to mark on his growing list of failures.
"We'll talk wherever you want," he said around the knot in his throat. He was ceding power to her. A complete reversal of roles. He didn't like it one bit, and by the look on Chessy's face, neither did she.
But what was he supposed to do in this situation? It would make him a flaming asshole if he whipped out his dominance and forced her submission and then used his dominance to manipulate her.
The hell with that. He wanted her to have complete and utter control in this situation. He didn't want her to feel threatened by anything. He was laying himself open and putting himself at her feet if that's what it took to pull out everything she needed to say. It was apparent their relationship was in real trouble, and that Chessy had been unhappy for quite some time.
That gutted him.
"Let's go in then," he said in a neutral tone even though his heart was flayed open and fear-an alien sensation-gripped his entire body. He'd hit the panic button the moment his gaze had met Chessy's at the restaurant and he'd seen the utter devastation in her eyes. He'd known then that he'd pushed her too far. And what woman could blame her? On a night when his attention should have been focused solely on her and celebrating another year of marriage, he'd bailed to court a prospective client.
And he now realized just how that situation had to have looked to her. Him smiling and wining a beautiful woman just yards away from where his wife waited for him to show for their anniversary dinner. Food cold, her giving up, all because time had slipped away from him and the urgency of sealing the deal with a client had taken over his priorities. Yeah, he'd fucked up and now he had to work fast to pick up the pieces. Because it wasn't just tonight, though he realized it was likely the last straw for her. Her unhappiness extended for a lengthy period of time and he'd been blind to it all. Or perhaps a small part of him had known and he hadn't wanted to admit it because to do so would be admitting he'd failed her.
She didn't wait for him to come around and open her door. She simply pushed it open and quickly got out and started for the house, then hastily unlocked the door without looking back. But she wasn't fast enough that he didn't see the tears streaking down her cheeks.
Fuck.
He hurried after her, worried she'd give up on talking to him and shut him out completely. A part of him was terrified that she would go in and pack her stuff. Or his. She had to know he'd never let her move out. This was her house, her security. If anyone ever had to leave, it would be him, and God, he didn't even want to think about that happening.
Whatever was wrong between him and Chessy he would fix or die trying. She was his world. How could she not know that?
Because you haven't proved that to her lately, dumbass.
He shook off the self-chiding and walked into the sprawling living room with twenty-foot ceilings, and to his relief he saw Chessy standing at the liquor cabinet, her stance rigid as she poured a glass of … what the hell was she pouring? Chessy wasn't much of a drinker. She had wine with the girls and at get-togethers. It was something she and Kylie shared. Neither ever drank much. Kylie came from an abusive background with an alcoholic, misogynist father, but Chessy came from a much different background. Neglected. Not physically abused, but her childhood had shaped her, had given her insecurity about her place in the world. And he'd vowed never to make her feel like her parents had. Now he had to face the very real prospect that he'd broken that vow.
Chessy threw back the drink, swallowing in a big gulp, and then promptly coughed and sputtered. Tate was behind her in an instant, her perfume wafting tantalizingly in his nostrils.
The dress she'd chosen to wear was meant to seduce. She'd known, had he showed up for dinner, that he wouldn't have been able to keep his eyes off her. That he would have hurried them through their dinner so he could take her home and peel that delectable dress off her body and then take over as a Dominant to his submissive.
She'd made a lot of plans for their anniversary it would seem. He'd caught a glance of the open master bedroom on his way to the living room and all the equipment he used and had chosen by his own hand was lying neatly on the bed for his perusal. To pick and choose the instruments he would use this night. Until Tate had to fuck it all up by allowing what was supposed to be a very special night for his girl go completely down the drain. How the hell would he make this up to her?
When she heaved and coughed again, her eyes, already watering, kept watering as she tried to correct which pipe her drink had gone down.
Tate instantly began patting her back and then rubbing smooth circles around her back, massaging. "You okay, Chessy? What the hell were you drinking anyway?"
She shrugged. "I just grabbed the first bottle I saw and went with it."
Tate reached around her and grabbed the bottle at the very front where she'd carelessly shoved it back in.
"Jesus, Chessy, you don't need to hit the hard stuff in order to talk to me. Remember me? Your husband, but more than that, your best friend? When have you ever had to ply yourself with alcohol just to talk to me? Is it so bad?"
She burped and then covered her mouth. It amused Tate though. Chessy was the epitome of polite and discreet. She would have been mortified to ever burp in a public place. He just thought they were cute. Little "Chess burps" he called them since they weren't a complete blowing-out-the-windows kind.
"Because what I have to say isn't good," she said in a tone that told him the healthy dose of alcohol was already working its way down her body and loosening her tongue. Or at least he hoped so. But at the same time, what she said registered with him and froze his insides. Completely paralyzed him and his tongue seemed dry and swollen, impacting his ability to even speak.
Because what I have to say isn't good.
The words rang in his ears, like a continuous video feed endlessly cycling, repeating itself until he nearly shook his head to make it stop.
"Come and sit down on the sofa with me, Chessy. You don't need to be standing and pacing after downing that alcohol. We can work this out, baby. You have to know I love my girl more than anything in the world. Whatever it is, I swear we can work it out."
His impassioned words seem to hit her, and she stood, absorbing them. He could see the wheels turning in her mind, the uncertainty in her eyes, and worse, doubt. Doubt clouded her beautiful eyes, and that hurt him because he was used to her having complete faith in him. In their marriage and relationship.
This was new territory for Tate and he didn't like it one bit. In all other aspects of his life, he was decisive, take charge, take no prisoners. And until tonight, he would have believed that he was still Chessy's Dominant and that he was taking care of her needs.
"Chessy?" he prompted softly, reaching to touch her arm.
She flinched and visibly recoiled and he swore under his breath. When had she gotten to the point of not being able to bear his touch? Was he hurting her so badly that she couldn't be in the same room with him?
She turned, wobbling unsteadily as she headed for the sofa. He wouldn't even allow himself relief over that small victory because he knew he still had a veritable mountain to climb once they settled onto the sofa and Chessy poured her heart out.