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Birch was my first love, he was the only man I had ever loved. And I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. Our lives were woven together like a thick quilt. He was my past, my present and my future.

Pushing my back up, he climbed behind me on the bed, straddling my hips. His breath scaled down the back of my neck as his teeth grazed my skin. The air was hot, saturated with need. It didn't matter what he did or how gentle or rough he touched me, I melted in his hands. He knew me better than anyone else. He knew what I liked, he knew how to draw out moans and elongate the pleasure my body experienced.

Raking his fingers down my spine, I let my eyes close tight as he massaged my shoulder blades, digging his thumbs into the tense muscles.

There was nothing innocent about this man. His hands were lethal to others, but magic in my eyes. His toes dangled in the darkness, and he never downplayed the dangers that surrounded him.

To most he was Birch Rottera, son of Nicholi Rottera. His name brought fear, it brought hurt and pain if justified in the moment.

But to me, he was just Birch. He was the boy who taught me how to throw a football, the man who helped me learn to drive. We had breakfast together every morning and went to sleep side by side every night.

He was normal in every way through my eyes. When it was just the two of us; that was the real man, that was the man I had fallen in love with.

Everything else was forgotten the second he kissed me and held me tight. The moment his hands worked my flesh and I looked into his eyes, I only saw the boy I knew and loved, the young man I had grown up beside.

I was a mere girl when we first met, abandoned and alone. He was the curious entertainer and I was the serious visionary. He'd come up with some crazy idea, and I'd be the voice of reason.

And I've known that I loved him since the moment we first met.

I think it took him a bit longer to see what I could see. We had been together for two years before he finally told me he loved me. Either he wasn't sure about the way he felt or he was too shy to say it out loud. But I waited. I waited every day for him to finally tell me what I already knew.

The first time he told me he loved me, he gave me a look, and when he said it, I knew he meant it. I could still remember it as if it happened yesterday.

Birch tilted his head, allowing his charcoal colored hair to sweep across his forehead. The bright blue in his eyes contrasted the blackness of his hair and toned skin, making them pop like fireworks as he smiled. His shoulder brushed mine as we washed the dinner dishes together.

There was nothing significant about that moment, there were no flowers or candy, no cards or handwritten confessions of love.

It was just his eyes and the words. His tone simple and sincere, his voice strong and confident. He spoke those three words under his breath as I scrubbed lasagna bits off the dinnerware.

The silver cutlery splashed into the water, kicking up bubbles into the air. Birch laughed, elbowing me in the ribs as I openly stared at him like there was a ghost hanging over his head.

That was the best day of my life, the moment I knew we would always be together.

“Do you promise to always love me, Birch?”

A tight kiss hit the base of my neck, forcing my skin to ripple with goosebumps. Resting his chin in the dip of my collarbone, he quietly spoke into my ear. “You know I always will.” Running a hand through my hair, he curled his fingers in deep, clutching at the roots. “I can't help but to love you, Babe.”

Love wasn't a word I could remember even using before him. I didn't remember my parents, I couldn't remember if I had siblings or family or friends. My first real memory was of him.

I woke up lost and confused. I had felt like my world before his family was nonexistent. It couldn't have been anything great if my brain had refused to hold on to one fucking image.

Dragging flat palms down my arms, he scooped them around my chest, dancing the pads of his fingers over my nipples. Stealing them away, he slipped them down the curve of my sides, sliding lower and lower.

My sex grew hot and wet, eagerly waiting for his touch. But he stopped just before my mound, cautiously flirting with the seam between my legs.

Fucking tease.

I didn't want him to stop, I wanted him to keep going, I wanted him to slip his finger through my folds, flick my clit, and give my body exactly what it was begging for.

Tugging hard on my hair, he yanked my head back. “I'm yours and you're mine, Cyprus. Always. Never forget that.” His hard fingers clutched my skull, twisting my face so he could look into my eyes. Biting my lower lip, he plucked it gently between his teeth. “We were meant to be.”

Smiling, my teeth glinted behind crimson red lips. “I know, I feel it too.”

Growling under his breath, he tucked his hands under my arms and turned me around to sit me on his lap. I wasn't ashamed to say I liked it rough, I liked bringing it to the line and seeing how far I could take it.

And Birch. . .

He loved to give it.