Prisoner of Love

by Beverly Jenkins

Apparently, she and her William hadn’t been equally yoked, and her need to be valued ran deep.

“I want to love your breasts, and your thighs, and the nook of your navel. I want to fill my hands with your hips and explore you like a man blind...”

“Thank you for being my wife.”

“Until death do us part.” Her eyes were serious. “You mean that?” “I do. When we’re old and gray, I’ll still be tossing up your skirts looking for treasure.”