
My Ascetic Husband, a Snake in Disguise
Chapter 2
That voice came again. "She touched my abs. If she'd just keep going, maybe slide a little lower... She's okay with me now, right? A kiss would seal the deal."
I stole a glance at Charles, who looked maddeningly composed. But then, he dipped his head and started unbuttoning his shirt.
"Go ahead," he said. "Touch whatever you want. I'm all yours."
My nose nearly bled right there. No one could resist a view like that.
Two years ago, when the Hatcher family sought a bride from another prominent clan, I saw Charles's photo and knew I had to have him.
I got the ring, the wedding, but not intimacy. In a year and a half, we'd barely kissed or held hands. Every time we accidentally brushed against each other, he'd jerk back like I'd zapped him with a cattle prod.
I could have handled a platonic marriage. Having a gorgeous guy in the house, even just to admire, wasn't a bad deal, but rumors about him kept hitting the headlines.
[Shocking! CEO Hatcher's Midnight Fling with His Secretary!]
[Hatcher Spotted with an Escort, 300 Rounds in One Night. Photos Don't Lie.]
No wonder he kept his hands off me. Maybe he was getting his kicks elsewhere.
I'd started thinking this marriage was a lost cause, but something didn't add up. He always looked so shy, the chance of his cheating close to zero.
Maybe I didn't need to rush into a divorce. A man this fine, untasted, would be a waste, and those headlines were probably nonsense.
Charles held my wrist, his eyes dark with restrained lust. "Had enough?"
His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, looking unfairly sexy. "You've been at it for a while now. I'm not like those guys you'd find out there."
I gave his abs one last squeeze before letting go. "I haven't touched any other guys."
The gloom in his eyes vanished, but then his brow furrowed. "Yeah, sure. If you're into this, just say so. You've got the whole package at home."
His gaze was intense, like he was trying to pull me in. His bluntness made my cheeks burn, even with my thick skin.
"You don't like me touching you, do you?" I protested. "Men are so fickle."
He buttoned his shirt up to his throat, but that voice came again. "Fickle? Me? I've been dying for her to get close this whole time. Does she really not want me?"