As Raphael gets up on stage, a woman pulls out the chair beside me and plops down. She’s wearing a tight black body-con dress and a pair of thick-framed glasses. She stares at me with a flat expression and says, “So, you’re the fiancée.”

“Yup,” I say, giving her a polite smile. I’m a little weirded out by the abrupt way she starts the conversation.

I’ve seen Raphael give a toast at his friend’s wedding, and I know how good he is at capturing people’s attention and telling them a good story. The guests seem to react the way he wants them to—laughing when he makes a joke, getting all mellow when he says something moving.

Yet, the woman beside me keeps snorting and rolling her eyes throughout Raphael’s speech. I try to ignore her. I don’t even know her, and she hasn’t even told me her name...

“...I hope we’ll be half as happy as you are on our thirty-fifth wedding anniversary,” Raphael says on stage, his voice amplified by the big, black rectangular speakers all over the room.

“Ha!” The woman with the glasses exclaims. Leaning closer and touching my arm, she says, “Good luck with that. You know, maybe it’s just me, but cheaters shouldn’t be your role models, right?”

Before I can answer, I hear my name being mentioned. I snap my attention back to the stage, where Raphael is holding the mic and staring right at me.

“Piper, come up here for a minute, baby,” he says.

I look around me. All eyes are on me. My cheeks grow hot as I get up from my chair and feel everyone watching every little movement I make. Is it the spotlight that’s making me feel hot, or am I just being too self-conscious?

As I get up on the stage and greet the guests, I feel like I’m floating, like I’m in a dream. Everything just doesn’t seem real. The helicopter, the luxurious buildings, the island…

Raphael tells me to say hi to the audience, and my knees start to go weak.

Yes, I’ve performed in front of people a bunch of times, but I’ve always had something between me and them. A guitar, or a piano, to act as a barrier. I know they can see me just the same, but it feels like I’m safer, like they’re focusing on my music.

Right now, I feel like they’re staring directly at me, and judging me for what I say and do. It’s a lot more intimidating.

Suddenly, two big, warm hands cup my face. For a random moment, I worry about how that would ruin my makeup. Before I realize what’s happening, Raphael’s lips land on mine.

And then everything else fades away.

There’s only Raphael—his hands, his lips, his presence. I close my eyes, my senses overwhelmed by everything that’s going on around me. I can vaguely hear a cheer from the crowd, but it sounds like it’s coming from somewhere far away, like it’s just the audio coming from the TV in the next room.

With my world now dark and quiet, I let myself get lost in the kiss. I hold on to his arms for balance, feeling his hard muscles underneath the shirt he’s wearing.

Raphael kisses me like a hungry man devouring the only meal he’s had for days. It’s hot, passionate, even almost explosive. I’ve never been kissed like this before.

And, knowing I’ll probably never see him again after this, I throw myself into it, letting him claim my mouth, even if it’s only pretend.

I’m still in a daze when Raphael breaks the kiss. He says something to the audience, but I can’t even pay attention to what he’s saying.

The next thing I know, he takes my hand and leads me down the stage, where I’m safe from prying eyes. Still, something within me wishes I were back on the stage if that means I could get another kiss like that.

As we take our seats, I touch the diamond ring on my finger, rubbing the metal and the stone.

That kiss… It didn’t feel fake. It wasn’t the kind of kiss I’d have in front of my own family, but maybe Raphael’s family is more open about public displays of affection.

That kiss felt more real than any other kiss I’ve ever had—not that I’ve had many other samples to compare it to. I wonder if Raphael felt it too.

That’s unlikely, though. It’s probably just a part of the script for him. A guy like him wouldn’t go for someone as ordinary as me.

Don’t get me wrong; it’s not that I think I’m unattractive. It’s just that… Sure, I have a pretty face, which is great, but he’s this hot guy who obviously comes from money.

I’m sure he doesn’t have any problems meeting girls better than me. There’s no reason why that should be a real kiss to him.

No, I’m just an emergency fake stand-in.

That kiss may have felt real to me—just as real as this diamond ring on my finger. But just as this expensive ring is not a big deal to Raphael, that kiss was probably just as insignificant to him.

* * *

“We’re both going to sleep here?” I ask. I hear thuds as Raphael drops both our bags on the floor of the same room. It sounds like a dumb question, even to myself.

Raphael’s family thinks we’re an engaged couple, so of course we’re sleeping in the same room. On the same bed.

“Yeah. I thought you'd already guessed when I told you it's an overnight trip,” he says. “We’re supposed to be a couple in love, remember?” Raphael steps closer and reaches his hand behind me to shut the door. “We need our privacy because we just can't keep our hands off each other.”

His proximity makes my heart race in my chest. My body remembers the passionate kiss we shared earlier today, and it yearns for more.

“Yeah, I guess I didn't think about that,” I answer lamely.

“It's okay,” he says, standing so close to me I can almost feel the heat emanating from his body. He puts one hand on my cheek. “You’re pretty good at improvising, like you did on stage.”

I smile nervously, unsure what to say. I’ve never spent the night with a man before.

In high school, I had a boyfriend who’d sometimes give me slobbery kisses. And I used to make out with Mark quite a bit. But that's the extent of my experience with men.

Until today. Until that kiss.

“That was one hot kiss, wasn't it?” Raphael asks, his voice low and laced with seduction. “How about we have a little more practice in case we need to do it again?”

Without waiting for a reply, Raphael leans in. His lips touch mine, soft like butterfly wings. My breath hitches in my throat.

This is so different from the kiss on stage. Now, he’s taking his time, his movements slow and sensual. He slides his hand and puts it on the back of my head, running his fingers through my hair.

He breaks the kiss, pulling away just a little bit so our lips are not touching, but I can just feel his warm breaths on my skin.

Before I even know what I'm doing, I tilt my face up and step forward, trying to close the gap between us. I catch a glimpse of a smile playing on Raphael's lips before he kisses me again, harder and more insistent this time.

I put my hands on his hard, sculpted body. I can feel the ropes of muscles on his back ripple with his movements, as he pulls me tight against his chest. I start to pant, but it’s like I need this kiss more than air now. I melt into Raphael’s body, letting him lead us to the bed.

My heart hammers against my rib cage as he lays me down and hovers over me, our legs and arms tangled together. This is not just a practice kiss anymore, is it?

“You’re so sexy,” Raphael whispers in a voice thick with lust before he starts assaulting my lips again. It sends a shudder down my spine, knowing he sees me like that.

He slides his hand under my shirt as he continues to kiss me. I should probably stop him, but I don’t want to. How can I say no to this intoxicating feeling? My whole body is on fire and I only want more.

He puts his hand on my breasts, cupping and kneading them. I’ve never had anyone touch me there before. It feels strange, but not unpleasant. When he pinches a nipple through my unpadded bra, I gasp, half in surprise and half in pleasure.

It feels good.

When I touch myself, I sometimes try to stimulate my nipples, like the girls I see in porn videos. It has never felt anything but weird.

With Raphael’s fingers, though, it’s like there’s a direct line between my nipples and my core, and his touch sends a shockwave of intense sensations straight to my pussy.

I hear a breathy moan and realize the sound is coming from me. My face grows hot with embarrassment. I didn’t know I could sound like that.

I open my eyes. Raphael’s looking at me intensely with his piercing green eyes, which only makes me feel more self-conscious. He’s not smiling or grinning anymore. He has this serious expression on his face. Focused.

I wonder if he could tell I’ve never done this before. Would it turn him off, knowing I have no idea what I’m doing?

If he could tell, he doesn’t show it. He continues to watch me with barely concealed desire as more heavy breaths and raspy moans slide out of my open mouth.

He pulls the cups of my bra down and puts his lips on my nipple. He gives it a light lick, and I squeeze his arm from how good it feels. As my pussy starts to tingle, Raphael keeps his gaze on my face. He sucks my nipple into his mouth and plays with it using his lips, his tongue, his teeth.

I have no idea what he’s doing, but it’s the best feeling in the world. I didn’t know a man’s touch could feel this good. I’ve been missing out my whole life and I didn’t even know it. To be fair, though, I’ve never had a man like Raphael show interest in me before.

I sigh as he puts one hand on my bare thigh. I never knew that part of my body could feel so much. I could sense every little graze of his fingers. And I want more.

I whimper as he slowly, torturously, moves his hand up my inner thigh. My legs part on their own, my hips lifting off the bed, desperate for Raphael’s touch.

I don’t even know the words to say, but my body seems to respond on its own. Like magic, every part of me opens up to him. I could feel my wetness leaking onto my panties.

Oh god, that’s where his hand is heading, isn’t it? He’s going to find out. Do I really want him to go on? If things continue this way, he’s going to… We’re going to have sex, aren’t we?

I don’t know if I want it. My body is yearning for something I don’t even understand. There are so many new, amazing sensations as it is.

Raphael’s hand reaches the top of my thigh and he slides it over my pussy. Now there’s only the thin cotton between us.

“You’re wet, princess,” Raphael says, taking his mouth off my nipple. He smirks before his head dips down to kiss my neck.

I can only hold on, grabbing onto his back, as he nibbles on my neck and rubs my pussy over my panties.

I should really put a stop to this. I should probably be more thoughtful about my first time. I should at least wait until I’ve seen him more than three times…right?

My brain is trying to tell me to stop and think, but it’s like I can’t even focus on anything else, other than Raphael. His body weight on me, his insistent lips on my neck, his hand rubbing my pussy.

My arousal keeps building up, and I can almost feel my release. It’s within reach. It won’t take much longer now.

Raphael places a knee between my legs and pushes my thighs apart. His movements get more and more urgent. He starts to bite my neck, and the little bit of pain actually heightens my pleasure.

Through the fog of pleasure, I can just feel something hard poking into my thigh, and I realize it must be Raphael’s erection. It drives me wild, knowing I can turn him on like that. But it also reminds me what he really wants to do right now.

And I don’t think I’m ready.

He pulls the crotch of my panties aside and his fingers touch my lower lips. I gasp from the skin-on-skin contact. God, I want him to go on, but I know I’m not ready.

Fighting my own instincts, I reach my hand down and wrap it around his wrist. I pull his hand away, although my pussy keeps throbbing and aching for his touch.

He stops and looks at me. “What’s wrong, princess? Does anything hurt?”

“No, I’m okay,” I say, my voice still hoarse from arousal. I clear my throat. “I just… I don’t think this is a good idea.”

He inhales deeply, and I worry about letting him down after leading him on like that.

“Of course,” he says with a smile. “Let’s just go to sleep, then.”

As Raphael reaches toward the table lamp on the night stand, his hard bulge brushes against my thigh, and I realize he must feel at least a little disappointed.

Nevertheless, he rolls over on the bed and pulls me into his arms. Spooning me from behind, he holds me like I’m something fragile he’s shielding from the world.

I know this is nothing to him. I know we’re just pretending to be lovers. I know he just wants meaningless sex.

But I feel so safe and warm in his arms, and I’m afraid I want more from him.