From that moment on, we were insatiable.
Desperate and hungry and crazily in love.
Being in love with Ren Wild…words can’t do it justice.
When he finally took me—when he finally woke up and saw he wasn’t the only one with a wildness inside him—we reached a level that sometimes scared me.
The depth of love I felt for him.
The depth of love he felt for me.
It demanded our hearts beat to the same rhythm, our bodies be near, our minds be in-tune, our breaths be in-sync. I’d never felt anything like it. And I still feel it today.
His fears that he was selfish and unkind when it came to sex were totally unfounded. He couldn’t accept that, after a life of doing his utmost to protect me, it was okay to be rough.
Wanting me as savagely as I wanted him didn’t make him any less of a saint.
In fact, his darker desires made perfect sense. He bent over backward to put my needs before his own, but when it came to sex, he took his own pleasure too.
And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.
Sleeping with Ren that day in the forest was my third sexual experience, but it might as well have been my first. Where Ren treated me like a queen in every waking moment of my life, when he got me beneath him—I was his to use as he saw fit.
He snapped and growled and dominated. He swore, which he painstakingly never did. He bruised me after making a vow to protect me from everything. He took control over what he wanted rather than sacrificing everything. When he thrust, he forgot about me and became obsessed with me at the same time. And when he made me come, that was the true gift because I’d never come before.
I craved—even before I knew what I needed—to be punished.
I needed to be punished because I’d fallen in love with a man I shouldn’t, and a part of me always needed that discipline.
Only Ren understood because he had that same sin. Ren was the only one with the power to make me feel wholeheartedly female, and I worshipped that man with every inch.
I look back, and I’m actually jealous of myself. Jealous of that perfect time. Jealous of everything we were about to enjoy, endure, and explore.
There is so much I need to tell you. So many, many things.
And I will.
I’ll get around to it because I’m not leaving anything out.
I can’t, you see.
I have to write it down because I never want to forget. I never want to forget every minute of every day—not just passing flashes that make an impression.
Flashes like sleeping with Ren that first time.
Flashes like every day thereafter and every day in between.
Life is so fast and stuffed full of surprises that I’m afraid if I don’t write them down, they’ll disappear just as child amnesia deletes your earliest memories.
And it’s more than just a drive to immortalize Ren with ink on paper. It’s a necessity because these pages are our photo album.
Back when we were younger, we didn’t have the luxury of cameras and video recorders. There are no pictures of us as we grew side by side. But there are words. And they are just as special because they’re painted with all the love and connection I was feeling at the time. They not only show an image but let me borrow those emotions and relive it.
As for the other assignment—the one I was going to burn just before Ren walked back into my life? Well, that’s here beside me. Almost two decades later, and I still have it. Ink smudged and paper torn but still intact and treasured.
Ren never let me burn it.
He tucked it safe and kept all three-hundred-and-ninety-seven pages wedged in his backpack the entire time we travelled.
This story is no longer about a baby and a boy who were never meant to be family, but a woman and a man who were always destined to be soulmates.
But before I get started, I want to say a few things.
First, I’m well aware I’m breaking another writing rule. Not only am I shattering the fourth wall, but I’m also talking to you from the future. I have the benefit of knowing how this tale turns out.
I know the ending.
I know the journey we take.
And you’ll have to excuse me if I slip now and again. You’ll have to forgive me for any spoilers because it isn’t intentional. It’s hard keeping things tucked up inside, desperate for their time to shine, my fingers cramping with desire to fly over the keyboard and release sentences and descriptions of the best man I’ve ever known.
But as much as I want to just blurt out everything, to let you know what happened when we travelled back to Cherry River, to whisper the name of someone so unbelievably special, to reveal if Ren and I got married…I can’t.