Page 2 of Princess of Pride
I turn and whisper-shout into the darkness. “Raphael?”
“Over here.” His Spanish accented voice sounds from near the tall stone fireplace. Moonlight filters through the windows and his shadowed form appears.
Slowly, I walk toward him, my skin growing hotter with each step.
“You came,” he says with excitement.
I almost blurt, “I’m not Pippa.” My caramel blonde hair and skin and lack of curves make that more than obvious.
I stop a foot away from him. He’s only an inch taller, but he’s my age and could be a late bloomer like me.
“So…?” I begin and give a nervous laugh. “What do you want to do?”
“What most people do in the dark.”
Oh god. Here we go. “What’s that?” I ask, playing dumb.
“It involves our lips.”
“Oh—kay.” I draw out the word and dig in my pocket for my phone to get that picture.
Raphael’s hands go around my waist and then his lips are on mine. I gasp with surprise and drop my phone. It hits the floor with a thud.
My picture! It doesn’t count if I don’t get a picture!
I’m about to pick up my phone when Raphael’s tongue invades my mouth. The foreign sensation jolts me, and I freeze.My heart isn’t fluttering like I expected. I’m not sighing or feeling faint. This is how kisses are in the books I read. Real life is very different.
“Raphael?” I murmur between kisses, about to tap-out so we can start over when I’m ready. Maybe then I’ll feel something.
“Don’t worry. We won’t get caught,” he says and drags me closer. “Is this your first kiss?”
I stiffen. He can tell? How embarrassing.
“No,” I squeak and take charge kissing him to prove I’m not lying when I totally am. I just don’t want him to think I gave my first kiss to him. I was saving it for Anton, the hottest boy in school, but he only has eyes for Pippa. Hate her.
I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m rolling my tongue and mimicking Raphael’s movements. He doesn’t say anything else, and I decide, although much sloppier than I imagined, kissing is kind of fun.
I want to learn from this experience so I can be good when I kiss a boy I like in the future. The thought makes me feel a little bad, like I’m using Raphael. He invited me. I remind myself. And he hasn’t called me Pippa, so he knows which sister I am. For all I know he’s using me.
We kiss more, and I’m certain I’m getting better at it because he moans—so I moan too.
In the next instant, my shirt is tugged over my head and thrown on the floor. I’m bare-chested for the first time in my life in front of a boy and terrified of rejection. What if he doesn’t like my small boobs—not that he can see them in the dark. Should I say I’m a late bloomer?
A loud sound echoes off the walls. I whirl to face the front door and scream.
“Grab him!” a man orders.
A second larger figure runsat us.
Raphael jumps over the nearby couch and darts to the back of the pool house with the man chasing after him. Leo?
My heart left my body and is cowering under the coffee table. I have my arms wrapped tightly around my chest, shielding myself from whoever barged in like a Swat team.
“Did you really think you could do this under my roof?” Dad barks as he walks toward me, his shadowed features becoming clearer.
I back up to the couch and fall onto the cushion.
Dad snatches my shirt from the floor and tosses it at me. “Get dressed,” he orders and turns away.
