“Come lay with me, husband.” His smile stretched enough to flash dimples in both cheeks. “Why must you say it like that?” “Because everyone keeps calling me your wife like I don’t have a name or a purpose beyond the title.” His hands slid into my outreached palms, connecting with cold metal and warm skin. “You can be called anything you like, Camilla, but your title will never change what you truly are to me.” “And what is that?” I asked. Bringing both of my hands to his lips, he kissed the spot they overlapped. “Mine.”
