My Ascetic Husband, a Snake in Disguise

I suspected my husband was a detached ascetic.

Every night, he'd skip to the backyard, muttering prayers under the stars instead of sharing our bed. When I slipped into something slinky, he'd frown and clutch his prayer beads like a lifeline.

Now I was done with the cold shoulder, slapping a divorce agreement in his hands.

That was when his thoughts started leaking into my head. "She touched me. Her hands are like silk. I'm dying to kiss her. When is she gonna be okay with me being a snake? I just want to cuddle her."

"A snake?" I thought. "Does that mean he's packing two things? I have to find out."

I leered at his chiseled frame, practically drooling. Before divorcing, I needed to test his things and my limits.

I tripped purposefully and fell onto his toned pecs, ready to test the waters.

"Whoops!" I gasped, setting the stage.

"You okay?" Charles Hatcher caught me swiftly, gently lifting me and nudging my hand off his chest.

His inner voice echoed in my head again. "Touched her again! She's like a warm, fluffy cupcake. I want to devour her. Another day craving her, but what if I scare her off? That sleazy coworker of hers is up to no good, asking her to drink. How do I warn her to stay away without sounding like a jealous creep?"

My cheeks burned with guilt. I snatched back the divorce agreement, tucking it back into my bag, but my eyes snagged on the faint outline of his abs through his shirt.

"I'm fine," I mumbled.

Charles nodded, tugging his shirt closed.

Those words I'd heard came from him, but his mouth hadn't budged. I was baffled, not understanding what was going on.

He turned, toweling his damp hair, and disappeared into his study. The spark of courage I'd mustered fizzled like a wet firecracker.

I hadn't even done anything, and he was already pulling away. It surely felt like he was repulsed by me.

But then, the same voice crept back into my mind, low and sultry. "She is so cute. I'm gonna lose it if she keeps this up. Better hit the scriptures to cool off. Wanna wrap her up in my arms and do all kinds of things."

I chugged a glass of ice water, my throat tight at his nasty thoughts.

After what felt like forever, he emerged. "There's a company gala tonight. Let's go together."

"Nah, I'll pass," I said, waving him off.

A gala sounded dull compared to a night out on my own.

He slid onto the couch beside me, his gaze locking onto mine. "Companions are required for this event. Come with me, please."

His voice was soft, almost pleading, but his thoughts roared in my head. "She doesn't wanna go with me. Is it because of that guy? No way. I'm keeping her glued to my side tonight. She's not sneaking off with anyone. Why hasn't she agreed yet? Should I just scoop her up and drag her there?"

I shot to my feet, swallowing hard. "Fine, I'll go."

His face softened, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "She's the best. When is she gonna run her hands over me?"

I'd never paid much attention to his expressions before, but now, staring at his chiseled jawline and those piercing eyes, I couldn't help myself. My hand moved before my brain caught up, brushing against his abs.

He let out a groan, his hand snapping over mine. His eyes glistened. "What are you doing?"

I looked away, flustered. "I'm your wife. Can't I touch you?"

This wasn't what I expected. Just now, his mind was screaming for my touch.