Chapter 1

I married my Don husband, Ethan Solas, because of a family arrangement. What he didn’t know was that I’d harbored a long crush on him. He, on the other hand, had never sparked any interest in me.

Today marked our third anniversary. After our usual, mechanical lovemaking, Ethan rolled onto his back, leaving me staring at the ceiling. He always treated it like a duty, nothing more.

Then a sudden, intrusive voice pierced my mind: “Did Vivian reach her climax? Did I do well? Is it too soon for a second round? Am I desperate? She smells so good…I just want to devour her.”

I froze, eyes turned and locked on Ethan’s bare back. Had I imagined it? Or had my icy, distant husband just confessed his wild, obsessive desire for me?

Chapter 1

Vivian’s POV

I had always believed my arranged husband didn’t care for me. He treated our nights together as nothing more than routine, distant in every other way. But tonight, as he turned his back after we finished, a voice—raw and desperate—shouted in my head, craving another round.

Ethan pressed me against his chest the moment we stepped into the bedroom. His touch ignited fire across my skin. His lips were soft yet insistent, sucking and teasing mine, pulling me into a heat I couldn’t resist.

My hands reached out for support, but all I found were Ethan’s hard, sculpted muscles and strong arms. Even through the fabric of his shirt, I could feel his body warming, his desire rising—and mine along with it.

I wore a simple slip dress, yet I felt consumed, as if my entire body was melting, searching for a touch to soothe the longing that had built inside me.

Today was our anniversary—a rare day when my cold, distant husband actually showed interest in me.

I tried not to let myself get carried away. Being close to him shouldn’t make me this excited. Yet it was rare to feel this near him, rare to see this passionate, hot side of him.

Before I realized, Ethan tore my dress away, lifted me, and laid me on the bed. His lips found my secret spot.

A broken moan escaped before I even realized it.

My thighs spread wider instinctively, framing his head as he went even deeper, sending shocks of pleasure through me.

How could a man so cold in the normal days be so overwhelmingly passionate now?

His hand cupped my one breast, nibbling until it hardened, while his lips followed in a slow, teasing rhythm on the other one.

Soon, he returned between my thighs, alternating between gentle laps and firm suckling, each touch making heat coil tighter in my belly until I trembled, sobbing from the intensity.

After what it felt like forever, Ethan lifted his head, lips glistening, eyes dark with desire. His body was hard, broad, and magnetic—overwhelming in its rawness.

He ripped off his shirt, then his pants, revealing himself fully—hard, ready, the tip already glistening. His hands gripped my thighs, guiding them around his waist, drawing me closer.

He lined himself up, pressing his cock against me. And then, with one swift stroke, Ethan thrust in.

I could barely breathe. Three years of marriage, countless nights together, yet this side of him still made me feel shy, unfamiliar, utterly exposed. This wasn’t the usual Ethan—it was fiercer, hotter, consuming.

I cupped his cheek, tilting his head to mine, and kissed him.

He moved relentlessly, each thrust rattling the bed, the headboard banging against the wall. My nails dug into his back, leaving marks, as my body shivered under him.

I tried to stifle my moans, but the way he knew me—knew exactly how to push me to the edge—made it impossible. Less than a minute, and he found that spot inside me. Fireworks exploded in my mind, my body convulsing as if it had shattered completely.

Ethan didn’t slow. His growl vibrated in my ear as he drove faster, harder, chasing his own release. After I climaxed again, he followed, his hips stuttering before he collapsed beside me.

For a moment, only our ragged breaths filled the room—uneven, frantic, yet strangely in sync.

Then Ethan turned his back to me. His usual post-sex ritual—turning away as if he couldn’t bear another second of closeness—returned.

I should have been used to it, but a small part of me still felt that familiar sting of disappointment.

The cold, distant husband was back.

Then, suddenly, a voice exploded in my mind. It was his—Ethan’s voice—even though I was almost certain he wasn’t speaking.

“Did I do good? Did I make Vivian come? She came, right? She hit her climax, I could hear it from her moans.”

“But why is she so quiet tonight? Should I turn and check if she’s asleep? Wouldn’t want her catching a cold if she’s still undressed.”

I blinked, still unsure if I was imagining it. Then, in the next second, Ethan turned.

Our eyes met, halfway across the bed. He barely lifted his gaze. “Still awake?”

“Huh…” My mind was scrambled; words refused to form.

“Go sleep.” He rolled back onto his side.

I swallowed, waiting for that familiar voice to pierce my thoughts. And sure enough, a second later, it did.

“What the hell’s wrong with you? You asked if she’s awake but didn’t ask for a second round? Stupid Ethan… maybe she’s still up because you didn’t satisfy her!”

My heart skipped a beat.

Before this, I might have still convinced myself it was all a dream. But now? There was no denying it—I was hearing Ethan Solas’s inner thoughts.

The contrast was maddening. Cold, composed Ethan in front of me, and in my head, his voice was shouting how badly he wanted me.

“Ethan,” I whispered before I even realized.

All I got back was steady breathing. I thought he was asleep.

A beat later, he hummed, “What?”

“Nothing.” I turned onto my side, trying to process what I had just heard.

And then the usual stream of thoughts hit again:

“Good job, Ethan! Don’t be clingy or needy. A little distance is sophisticated—shows you’re a mature man.”

“But… can I just give her a goodnight kiss?"

“No, Ethan! Haven’t you forgotten? Vivian likes a mysterious, independent man. If you kiss her now, you’ll freak her out—and she’ll run. You’ll never find a wife like her again!”

I frowned. Since when did I care about a mysterious, independent man? And why did Ethan think cold and distant was his ticket to that image?

Chapter 2

Vivian’s POV

As his thoughts rumbled in my mind, I closed my eyes, and the day of our wedding came rushing back.

Ethan hadn’t looked happy that day. But I was excited. I remembered standing at the far end of the red carpet, heart hammering, hands trembling as I hooked my Papa’s arm.

I had fallen in love with Ethan long before our marriage alliance—maybe even before Papa first mentioned the idea of us marrying.

So I was truly happy at the wedding. Who wouldn’t be? Marrying someone you love, taking his hands in yours…

And Ethan stood at the altar—the most striking man I had ever seen. The suit was ordinary enough, but on him, it radiated a power and presence no one else could carry. Yet his face… so cold, distant, and expressionless.

I understood. I felt a pang of sadness, but I knew—Ethan didn’t like me. To him, this marriage might have been just another strategic alliance benefiting both our families.

I even helped him, finding excuses for his coldness. “It’s alright, Vivian. Ethan will like you once he gets to know you. Once you two become a real family.”

So I tried—so many things, so many times. But Ethan was like an iceberg, impossible to melt.

I remembered that only a month ago, I had even made an appointment with our family lawyer to discuss divorce.

I loved Ethan—his looks, his dominance, his brilliance—but I couldn’t let myself stay in a loveless marriage a moment longer.

And yet… just now, I had heard it. The way Ethan craved me, the way he was utterly, madly in love with me. He didn’t see this marriage as hollow or fake. He was in it—just as deeply as I had always been.

But…why had he been so distant all this time? Why let me misunderstand his feelings for so long?

Shock quickly turned into anger and disbelief. If I hadn’t heard his thoughts tonight, how much longer would he have iced me out? Would he have finally revealed the truth only when I threatened divorce? Was this some cruel game—or did he truly not understand a woman’s heart?

I drifted slowly toward sleep, lost in the haze. Then, warm hands pulled me close. Ethan whispered soft and steady, “I love you so much, Vivian. Good night.”

…

The next morning, I woke to an empty side of the bed. Last night felt hazy. Ethan and I had gone through our anniversary routine sex… then what? I shook my head, that’s right, I heard Ethan’s inner thoughts.

It sounded wild—insane even—but sometimes reality could be stranger than imagination. I wondered if I could still hear him today.

Dragging myself into the bathroom, I started freshening up. The sooner I was done, the sooner I could get downstairs, join Ethan for breakfast, and test whether this mind-link would work again.

But when I caught my reflection in the mirror, my breath hitched. Love bites—his marks—spotted my neck and back.

Ethan had always been rough in bed, so different from the icy, distant man in real life. I used to think maybe that was some other version of him, unleashed only behind closed doors.

But what if it wasn’t? What if that was his true self?

If what I heard last night was real, Ethan had been craving me like a predator waiting for his prey. His thoughts—“Gosh, Vivian’s skin… so soft, I could melt into her. The way her leg curled around my waist… I could bury myself in her forever”—made me blush, even just imagining it.

I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away. It was reassuring to know I wasn’t hated by my own husband, but I was still furious at him for keeping me in the dark. I needed him to confess—to say it out loud—before I reconsidered my plans for divorce.

I chose a simple black dress, tight and barely reaching my thighs. Before marriage, this had been my usual style. After Ethan, I’d toned it down—one sharp frown from him had made me self-conscious. I wanted to please him, even if I hated admitting it.

But today… holding onto the faint hope of hearing his thoughts again, I dared to think I might finally catch a glimpse of what he truly felt for me or this little short black dress.

I walked slowly down the stairs. The dining area was half-open to the staircase, and Ethan had a habit of sitting at the head. I made sure to walk where he could see me.

Sure enough, the click of my heels caught his attention. Ethan turned, his eyes tracing my dress, then my face. There it was again—those furrowed eyebrows.

And then, in my head, his voice spoke: “Hold it together, Ethan. Don’t freak out. She’s always this sexy. Little Ethan, don’t get hard now.”

I had to suppress a smile. How could the inner-thought Ethan be so adorable?

The thoughts continued, frantic and adorable: “But I don’t want other men seeing her like this! She’s mine! Mine alone! Should I tell her to maybe change it? But she looks so good… I wouldn’t want to give her the wrong signals.”

“But would I want others to see her this sexy? The thighs… those legs… stop it, Ethan! Don’t imagine tearing her dress apart in broad daylight! Don’t be a pervert, Ethan!”

I reached the table and sat down. In reality, Ethan didn’t say a word—just gave me a frown before returning to his breakfast. But his inner voice kept running, wild and chaotic.

I studied him closely. Now that I could hear his thoughts, he seemed… different. Softer, warmer, even approachable. Handsome as always, but somehow cuter, more human. I found myself getting lost in him again.

I pulled myself back to reality, only to find Ethan staring. “Something wrong?”

His mind screamed: “Did my hair fall apart? Is there bread on my face? Why is Vivian staring at me? My gosh… she’s so attractive just looking at me. I really want to kiss her. Right—the morning kiss. She always expects one before I leave for work. I’ll just wait… then kiss her.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I swallowed hard. Ethan sounded like he was trying desperately to contain his excitement over a simple morning kiss.

The morning kiss… It had started as a little ritual when Ethan and I first married. He was so distant, and I thought a small trick could help close the gap between us. Every morning before he left for work, I would fix his tie, and we’d kiss.

Before hearing this thoughts, I used to think I had forced this ritual on him. Every kiss was just a light brush of lips before he turned away.

I was sad for a while, but I convinced myself: if he didn’t like me, at least this tiny ritual was his gift to me.

Now, thinking back, perhaps Ethan had been longing for those kisses just as much as I did—he just never showed it.

Chapter 3

Vivian’s POV

Anger and disbelief from last night surged back. Why would he act like he didn’t care when he clearly wanted the same things I did?

For months, I had felt like I was forcing myself on him, chasing a man who barely tolerated me. The humiliation gnawed at me, relentless. Still, I had been the brave one, never thinking of giving up—until recently.

Who taught Ethan to be a husband like this? Why did he bury every desire and thought about us, locking them away where I couldn’t reach? Did he even know how close I had come to dragging him to the courthouse? Filing for divorce?

I sipped my coffee slowly and nibbled my toast, while Ethan had long finished his breakfast and now read the paper, seemingly waiting for me to finish so I could fix his tie—and give him that kiss.

His thoughts echoed in my head again: “Why is she even eating toast so cute? Like a little hamster with her cheeks all puffy.”

“This is the best part of the day. The other part would be lying next to her, drifting to sleep hearing her breathing.”

“Okay, she’s finished her coffee… which means in a minute or two she’ll fix my tie and stand on her tiptoes to kiss me. Those lips… Can I go for a French kiss this morning? I want to taste her.”

“Calm down, Ethan. Vivian doesn’t like clingy—just a peck is fine.”

“But… look at her lips!!! No, I want to taste them. Please, just pull her in and kiss her.”

I choked on my toast, coughing. Inner Ethan was… exceptionally forward.

“59… 58… 57…”

He counted down by seconds. When he hit one, I looked up. Our eyes met. His deep blue gaze pinned me, and a sudden thought flared in my mind—angry, punishing: if Ethan thought he could treat me this way and still get a bonus, he was wrong.

No morning kiss today. Maybe not in the future, either, if he kept playing this game.

If he wanted it, he had to ask like a normal man.

“Aren’t you late for work?” I blinked at him innocently.

“Oh… yes. I’m leaving now.” Ethan stood, but I caught something flicker in his eyes. Quietly, his thoughts whispered: “She forgot! She forgot about our morning kiss!”

He started toward the door, slow and deliberate, clearly waiting for me to “remember.”

Just as he reached it, I called, “Ethan?”

His eyes lit up like a boy in a candy shop. “Yes?”

“Next Sunday, we’re eating at our parents’ house. Just a reminder.” I called Ethan before he could step out the door. I knew I should probably take things slow now that I could hear his thoughts—and that he clearly struggled to express himself—but still, I wanted to push him, giving him a chance to mention the morning kiss himself.

I saw Ethan’s eyes flicker, dimming slightly at my words, yet still, he didn’t mention the kiss he wanted so badly.

I turned toward the stairs, stepping up.

“Vivian… didn’t you forget something?” Ethan finally spoke.

The perfect, cold Ethan had finally cracked. He couldn’t let our morning-kiss ritual die.

I turned, still faking innocence. “Something? What thing?”

Ethan’s cheeks flushed, his inner thoughts screaming: “Should I say it now? The morning kiss… Will it make me seem too needy?”

His hand went to his tie. “The morning ritual. Remember?”

“Oh, the tie,” I said casually, walking over. I stood on my tiptoes to fix it, letting my hands brush just a little closer than usual. I studied Ethan’s face, noticing the subtle tremor of his eyelashes.

Though he refused to show it, his thoughts were wild: “So close… Vivian’s skin, so soft… Had she never felt this before? And she isn’t even wearing makeup… Quick! Look away before she catches you staring like a desperate teenager!”

I deliberately took my time adjusting his tie.

After what felt like forever, I finally finished. I didn’t lean in for the kiss, nor did I step back—I just looked at Ethan. I could feel his heartbeat quicken.

I edged an inch closer. Inside his mind, a frantic chorus: “Go for the kiss, go for the kiss.”

Yet in reality, he didn’t move.

Just as I was close enough to touch him, I pulled back, landing on my heels. “There. The tie’s fixed.”

I met his eyes. “You really don’t have to wait for me just because I wanted a moment before you left for work. I get it—it would waste your time. If you don’t want it, we can stop the ritual.”

Ethan’s eyes widened. He struggled to keep his expression, but I could hear his inner panic: “No, not a waste of time! Say something, idiot! She’s cutting this ritual off! Where will I get my morning kiss then?”

“Just tell her she can’t change the ritual. I veto it, I don’t agree!”

“But… maybe this is what she wants now… Maybe Vivian doesn’t like me anymore… She doesn’t need me…”

I caught the faintest whine in his thoughts—almost like pouting.

“Ethan, for God’s sake, just say something! Remember what that master taught? Rule number one of being a perfect husband: listen to your wife and do whatever pleases her. So suck it up, you idiot. If Vivian says it’s over, take it like a man instead of pouting your lips here!”

“Alright.”

That was it? Alright—after all that mental wrestling, that was his answer?

I turned away, done teasing him. “Have a nice day then, Ethan.”

I headed upstairs, leaving him behind, but his thoughts didn’t stop.

“Was she happy or mad about me agreeing? Why do I feel like she’s more mad than happy?”

“Wait… did I get it wrong? Did she say that because she didn’t want me to agree?”

“Don’t worry. Just ask the Master later—he knows everything.”

With the click of the door, Ethan’s thoughts finally quieted in my head.

So far, I realized I could only hear Ethan when he was near.

That “master” he kept referencing—someone Ethan apparently consulted on how to behave in our marriage—kept popping up.

And honestly? That master sounded like a total phony. No normal person would advise him like that.

I wondered: was this master trying to sabotage our marriage… or secretly save it?

…

I spent the day handling some family business and skipped my usual visit to Ethan’s office at lunch.

He called once, and because we were apart, I couldn’t hear his thoughts—only the words he spoke over the phone. He tried to sound fine, but the disappointment in his voice was unmistakable.

I reminded myself not to soften. Ethan had to learn to say his feelings out loud, or I’d be the only one investing in our relationship—and that wasn’t fair.

After my shower, I stepped out to find Ethan sitting by the lamp, reading. Quiet and distant as always—but now, in the same room, I could hear him again. And his thoughts screamed something entirely different.

Chapter 4

Vivian’s POV

“She didn’t come join me for lunch. No morning kiss. She said the rituals are over. What went wrong? Did I upset her? Think, Ethan!”

“Did she not enjoy my company anymore? Does she want another man besides me?”

“It’s all your fault, Ethan. You’re probably not a good enough husband.”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

With that, Ethan shifted casually, just enough for his robe to fall open, revealing what lay beneath. He wore nothing but boxer briefs.

His body was flawless, sculpted even better than a model’s—no exaggeration. I’d seen plenty of models before, but none could compare to him.

“Did Vivian see? Did she notice I’m wearing the boxers she bought me last week?”

“If she didn’t even notice me in this… maybe… maybe I shouldn’t wear anything at all?”

Even as he tried to keep his expression neutral, I could see his rapid breaths, his abs moving with every inhale.

I didn’t move—I just stood there, staring, feeling like I was losing my mind alongside Ethan.

He had never deliberately seduced me like this. And now, with everything else—and the fact that I could hear his thoughts—his every move was a whole new level of temptation and irresistible attraction.

Soon, Ethan looked up, and our eyes locked. His gaze lingered on my chest, barely covered by the thin fabric of my nightgown. The marks he had left were still there, partially hidden beneath damp strands of hair clinging to my skin.

Ethan’s gaze sharpened, turning almost predatory in an instant.

“Am I a terrible husband for always wanting to hold my beautiful wife and make love? Should I invite her now… maybe remind her what it’s like to have me? She loves it when I kiss her, when I make her come…”

“Ethan, be brave. Just Ask her if she wants it now.”

“This gown… I could tear it away in one grip…”

His thoughts grew explicit. I had to bite my lip to keep a straight face. I hated admitting it, but I felt myself responding—close to giving in and asking if he wanted it.

Then I remembered how cold he had been whenever I’d brought up intimacy in the past. Frustration crawled back like fire.

I turned away, heading for the bed, pretending not to notice his heated stare and inner thoughts. Under the blankets, I tried to close my eyes.

The room was quiet—but my head wasn’t. Ethan’s thoughts refused to die down.

“Is she tired today? Thinking about sleep already? Should I cuddle her once she’s asleep?”

"No, little Ethan. Don’t get all hard and think about that. Maintain the polite distance, understood?”

Then, a beat later: “Maybe I should consult the master again… ask if I should cuddle Vivian after she falls asleep?”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I pushed myself up and turned to face him, and the surprise on Ethan’s face was priceless.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

His thoughts screamed: “Is that it? Does she want to have sex right now? I’m ready. 100%. Primed. Just give the word… V, use me, straddle me, let me bury…”

I didn’t answer. But my mind whispered: Say the word, Ethan. If you want me, say it.

But the seconds ticked by. He just looked at me, quietly.

I gave up. “Nothing. Goodnight.” I lay back down, shutting my eyes and forcing myself to sleep.

Ethan was quiet behind me, but his thoughts were loud: “Master! Master!”

I heard the faint rustle of him reaching for his phone on the nightstand.

“So many things changed today. Better consult the master.”

“Master, I did the Stoic and mysterious man exactly as you suggested. It worked. My adorable wife couldn’t love me more.”

“But… something weird happened. She called off our morning-kiss ritual, then forgot lunch and our evening routine. Should I remind her or let her be?”

“Maybe something else caught V’s attention and she can’t focus on me or our marriage…”

“Oh, you want a tarot reading on her thoughts? Ten thousand dollars sounds fine, as long as I know if she’s happy with us.”

“Remember to keep my masculinity on. Got it.”

“You’re a lifesaver, master. I’d be clueless without your help."

The more I heard, the stranger it felt. That “master” sounded really like someone trying to brainwash Ethan.

Before he could continue, I sat up. “Can I have your phone? I just remembered I need to message Papa, and my phone’s downstairs.”

I couldn’t tolerate another second without knowing who this “master” was. Ethan was smart, decisive, perfect in every other aspect of life—so how could he completely lose his mind in our relationship?

“Hmm?” Ethan looked confused but handed me his phone anyway.

“Passcode?” I asked.

His inner thoughts screamed: “Is she checking up on me under the guise of messaging her dad?”

“She cares! She cares about me!”

“Wait, Ethan, don’t get ahead of yourself. She’s probably just messaging her dad, like she said.”

“220413,” he said aloud, cold and measured.

I caught the meaning behind this passcode instantly—it was our wedding date.

“Crap! Vivian’s eyebrows furrowed when she saw the passcode. Am I too awful for setting our wedding date as the passcode?”

“Keep it cool, man. Just ask the master tomorrow—he’ll help me look good in front of Vivian.”

I sighed inwardly, pretending to dial numbers as I shifted, but I was quietly switching apps—from Messages, to Facebook, to Instagram. Finally, a contact caught my eye, flagged in red: “Master.”

I opened the chat. The latest message was from Ethan, “Talk to you more tomorrow. Master, you really saved my day!”

I clicked the profile to learn more—but froze when I saw the full username: @KlimChaos.

My fingers hovered over the screen. That name set off alarm bells. I only knew one person who used it: my twenty-year-old rebellious sister, Katie, currently on a gap year in Bali.

It had to be a coincidence… right? Anyone could use that username.

Then I scrolled down. Last login: Bali.

Wait. If a thousand people used this name worldwide, what were the odds two would be in Bali at the same time?

My mind flashed back three years. Just before Ethan and I got married, Katie had declared she’d live her own life, gap year from college, flying across the world despite Papa cutting off her allowance. Stubborn as ever, she refused to come back ever since.

I looked at the profile again, and a thought struck me—a bold, out-of-the-box thought: What if this Master really was Katie—and she’d been using this persona all these years to get Ethan’s money, feeding him advice on how to live with me?

It was the only logical explanation for this impossible coincidence.