Raphael looks amazing naked. I mean, he looks great with clothes on, too. But now, looking at his big, hard, muscular body in all its glory… Honestly, it makes me want him to fuck me again, even though we've just had yet another round.

I’ve never known life to be so happy.

I let out a big, contented sigh, letting the heat of the water seep through my skin and into my flesh. “I’m glad we decided to visit Paris again. This was a good decision.”

“I told you we were going to make use of this bathtub. I got Marie to prepare the flower petals and everything.” Raphael opens his eyes as he leans back on the other end of the oversized bathtub, bubbles and rose petals floating between us. He shoots me a smile before he sits up and pours me another glass of champagne.

“Are you trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?”

“Maybe,” he says with a smirk. “It doesn't look like I need to, though, seeing as you’re already naked.”

I laugh. “Hey, what a woman wears—or doesn't wear—shouldn't be taken as indication of her availability for sex.”

“Did you hear that from your gender studies class?” Raphael grimaces. “Either way, that doesn't really apply here because you’ve asked me to fuck you more times than I can count.”

“Hey, a woman's sexual history is also not indicative of—”

Suddenly Raphael's fingers are on my nipple, rolling and pulling it until it's hard as a diamond. I gasp, unable to finish my sentence.

“What about this nipple? Or that sexy-as-fuck gasp? What do they indicate?” He stares at me with a smirk, knowing he has won this round.

“That I want you,” I admit.

He chuckles, obviously satisfied with my answer. “I think I'm done here. I’ll wait for you outside, princess.”

“You’re not going to rinse off in the shower?” I ask.

“I told you, that's not a thing that everyone does,” he says as he stands up and gets out of the bathtub. Damn, my boyfriend has the perfect body. Those broad shoulders and chest, that rounded ass, those strong arms...

Still, I protest, “But you're not clean.”

“Yeah, but I’m not any dirtier than I was when I went in.” He’s already drying himself off with the towel that Marie has neatly laid out on the heated towel rack, and I know he's not going to do it.

At least he's honest about it.

Raphael has kept his word. He always tells me the truth now, even if he knows it's going to start an argument.

As I move to the shower enclosure and turn the tap, I close my eyes. It feels like heaven when the water washes off the soap suds on my body.

I don't know how Raphael can stand just walking out of the bathtub like that without rinsing himself. It always makes me feel cleaner, but I’m willing to let little things slide because he's so amazing in many other ways.

I think back to my relationship with Mark, and how different I was with him, how impatient and sensitive. I guess I just didn't know how a good relationship was supposed to feel. I’m glad he cheated on me, all things considered.

With Raphael, I’m a much better partner. I’m glad he found me, because I sure as hell had no idea how to find someone like him.

For my birthday last month, he gave me a thick envelope. Inside, I found credit card statements in my name, with all the balances paid off.

I hadn't even heard of those accounts. I had pushed it to the back of my mind, pretending they didn't exist because I knew I wasn't going to be able to pay them off anyway.

There was a few thousand here and another few thousand there, with the total in the low five-figures.

I was so surprised I couldn't speak for a while, just clasping my hand over my mouth as tears flowed down my face.

I still can't believe he did that for me. I know it's not a lot of money to him, but I was really touched that he gave me something I needed, that he was willing to take on my problems as his own. I know he’s got my back then.

He even helped my dad find a job and prepared a payment plan for the mortgage so he wouldn't lose the house to foreclosure again.

I’ve been spending a lot of time with his family. They’re thoroughly convinced that we're a real couple now, even though Raphael has also admitted to them that it began as a ploy to get back into their good graces.

He was surprised when they reacted positively to his revelation, even though I’d told him they would. A couple of months after that, Raphael finally started getting more and more responsibility at work, which he’d always wanted.

Honestly, everything is going so well for us both, I can't imagine a thing that could make our lives even better.

Well, maybe if I suddenly run into Jay-Z and he offers me a multi-million record deal…but that's impossible. I don't need that to be happy, though.

Sure, Raphael's not perfect, but he's perfect for me.

He has a sore spot for baseless accusations, which is why he got so mad when I said that he may have gotten arrested because of something other than drugs, something more sinister.

Considering how much he has suffered over one false charge, I don't blame him. It's no different, really, from my hatred of liars.

So really, on that night right before I moved out, there was no chance for us to emerge from the fight with our relationship intact.

He had lied to me, and I had accused him unfairly. Yeah, no wonder it went badly.

I’m glad we managed to get past that.

I moved back into that same apartment after we made up. Raphael had asked if I wanted to move in with him instead, but I chose to live in my own tiny apartment and pay him rent. I needed to feel like a big girl who had her shit together, after everything I’d gone through.

I step out of the shower, dry myself off, and wrap a towel around me.

When I open the door to the bedroom, my jaw drops open.

The room looks like it did that first night we landed in Paris and came to this holiday house. Candles and rose petals all over the place.

The only difference? The flowers now form a path from the bathroom door to the bed, where Raphael sits, wearing a nervous smile and his usual jeans-and-T-shirt combo.

“What is… When did you do this?” I ask in amazement.

When we went into the bathroom, there were no candles or rose petals. Just the fireplace crackling in the background.

“When you were taking your unnecessary shower,” he answers with a grin. “I also had Marie make the initial preparations while we were out at the Louvre.”

“This is nice, Rafe. It reminds me of our first trip here.” I follow the path of flowers on the floor, my wet feet stepping on petals and plush carpet.

“Yeah, you were my fake fiancée back then.”

I smile as the memories come flooding back.

“And now, princess,” he says as he drops down on one knee, “I want you to be my real one. I love you and I think we make each other happy, don't we?”

I nod dumbly, not quite believing what's happening.

“I know you're not ready for a wedding right now, but we can have a long engagement if you need it. I just want you to know that I’m in this for good. You're the one I want to grow old with.”

I continue nodding. It sounds like a dream, but this is real...right?

“Is that a yes?” Raphael chuckles anxiously as he looks up at me, taking my hand in his. “Oh, hold on. I’m so excited to seal the deal, I forgot about the ring.” He takes a small item from the bed and holds it up with his hands.

“That looks familiar,” I say.

“It should. You used to wear it. But now I want it to mean something to both of us, instead of just a prop for a lie,” he says. “If you want a new ring, that's fine, by the way. I could get you a new one. I just thought it would be nice to use this one because of the sentimental value. Diana told me I’m being cheap, but—”

“Oh my god, stop talking already,” I cut him off. “Yes, Rafe. That's my answer. I’ll marry you. Now put that damn ring on my finger.”

We both grin at each other as he slips the ring on my finger for the second time. An old piece of jewelry for a new commitment.

“I love the ring. I can't believe you’ve been keeping it this whole time.”

“What? Of course I’ve been keeping it,” he says as he gets up and pulls me into his arms. He gently strokes my hair. “I’ve always planned to propose to you with this ring, in this room. I’ve always wanted to use this same ring to mark you as mine.”

“Even when I moved out without telling you? When I gave the ring back to you?” I lean against his chest.

“Especially then,” he says, his vocal cords vibrating against my cheek as he speaks. “I promise I’ll do my best to make you happy, princess.”

“I’m already happy.”

“I know. Me, too.”