It’s Drew. My heart starts beating crazily as he moves past me. I shut the door since the party noise is still deafening and my head isn’t really up to it.

“Dora, we need to talk.” I find Drew standing behind me, not close, but too close for comfort.

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow? I’m a little tired.” Please let him just go. I can’t deal with this right now. My emotions are all over the place, and the monsters in my stomach are awakening, as is my fever and wobbly legs. Great, I’m having another case of Drew flu.

“I’ve been waiting for months now, and I know it sounds corny, but it’s a new year and I want—God, Dora, I want to talk.” He sounds so forlorn and lost, and now he’s tugging at my heart with his words, which by the way just skipped a beat. His voice is enough to make me melt into a puddle of hot goo.

“Okay, but let me go splash some water on my face first.”

I don’t wait for an answer as I move past him to the bathroom. I need to pee, but I didn’t want to discuss bodily functions when most of my body is not functioning right as it is. I turn on the faucet so it will mask the noise, and then I wash my hands, splashing a little cool water on my face. I don’t want to mess up my makeup since I want to look halfway decent when we talk.

What is there to talk about? He kissed me on Halloween and tonight, big deal. I guess I need to go find out.

Calm down, Dora. It’s just Drew.

“Sorry, it took me so long. Wine is not my friend, and it makes me sleepy. I’m awake now, so what’s up?” I hope I sound calm. I think I do. Nonchalant is what I’m really going for.

Shut up, Dora, and listen to him.

“It’s okay.” Drew is sitting on the couch, and I watch as he runs his hand through his hair. By the look of it, he’s done it more than a few times since I left him in. “Come sit beside me, please.” He pats the leather cushion next to him, and I wobble on my heels over to him.

“Wait, let me take these damn shoes off before I fall and break my neck.” Stop rambling, Dora.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”

I stumble at the huskiness in his voice and look up to see him watching me remove my shoes. I kick them aside and sit on the edge of the cushion, not knowing what to do with my hands. I end up placing them in my lap as our eyes meet.

“First, I want to explain Halloween.”

My eyes drop down to my lap when he bows his head. “You don’t have to. You were drunk and I was there, and well, we kissed.”

“I wasn’t drunk. In fact, I hadn’t had a sip of anything but water. I saw you as soon as I walked into the room, and I followed you. From the first time I met you, you have haunted my thoughts, and I needed to see if what I felt was real. It was real. I’ve never felt anything more real in my life. My question is: Do I have a chance with you?”

His head is still bowed, and I’m speechless. He wants to have a chance with me. Maybe I didn’t hear him right. My heart is pounding loudly and the menacing butterflies are going hog wild. Maybe I’m dreaming.

Ow! Pinching myself proves I’m wide awake.

“Dora, did you hear me?” He lifts his head, and I see the confident Drew missing.

This is real. He wants me. What should I do? Kiss him, fool, inner Dora shouts. I move closer and take his head in my hands and pull him close so his lips are even with mine. Then I kiss him. This time it’s my tongue that is the initiator, and I feel myself go from warm to burning hot in a matter of milliseconds.

I want this man. I really want him. Not just a kiss, but all of him. I want him in my bed with our bodies fused together. Even if it’s only for a short while, I want him and he wants me.

I push any doubts aside and moan as he pulls me into his arms, deepening the kiss. I feel his hands burning a trail up and down my back, and he pulls me with him as he lays down on the couch. I’m on fire, everywhere. I want him naked, and I boldly reach between us and undo his jeans. He stills, and I wonder if I’ve done something wrong.

“Dora, are you sure?” he whispers as he breaks contact with my mouth.

“I’m so sure,” I say.

He abruptly sits up and lifts me like I weigh ounces instead of pounds. He pulls back the covers on the bed and places me gently on the cool sheets. I panic as he stands up straight, and I think maybe he’s changing his mind, but instead he yanks the polo he’s wearing over his head, revealing the most beautiful twelve pack I remember from art class. With a ghost of a smile, he finishes the job I started and pulls down his jeans, removing his underwear and socks and kicking off his shoes in one fluid motion. The low light in the room shows the extent of his lean muscles, and I’m itching to touch every inch of him. He’s hard and ready, and I stroke him, delighted when he closes his eyes and moans. I can’t believe I made him do that.

He leans down and puts his hand on my thigh, slowly moving up, taking my dress as he goes. Impatiently, I sit up and turn my back to him so he can unzip my dress, which he does again slowly, caressing every inch of my naked skin as it’s unveiled. I shimmy out of it, not sexy, but I’ll make a better effort next time. I shiver as the cool air hits my skin, and I sit there dressed only in my barely-there underwear.

Scooting over, I make room for him to join me, which he does instantly. We’re face to face, eyes to eyes, and I realize I’ve never had such an intense feeling like this. His gaze moves down to my bra, and before I realize it, it’s gone the way of my dress, and my scrap of underwear meets the same fate. His hand strokes me. I watch as his tanned skin moves over my pale body. The ache and the need for him to be inside me intensifies. I take his hardness in my hand and gently tug him, hoping he understands what I want—no, what I desire.

“I won’t last long if you keep that up, Dora. I want this to be special,” he groans as I continue stroking him.

“We can do it again, right?”

I can’t believe I just asked that. He reacts by moving down the bed to circle my left nipple with his tongue. My hips move upward, and I feel like I’m going to explode. Every nerve in my body is on edge. I tug on his hair, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he latches on and gently sucks until I feel like I will lose my mind. His hand starts drawing circles on my stomach, inching closer to the place I want him to be. My hips move involuntarily as his hand cups me, and then he places his palm flat against me. I swear I’m going to die from the agony and intense sensations he’s causing to burst within me. I tug his hair again, and his tongue lets go of my nipple. I feel a loss, but then his fingers begin stroking me, and I want something different.

I scoot down until my lips meet his. His fingers are pulled away, and I reach down and grab him, guiding him inside me. He doesn’t resist. Instead, he pushes farther until I feel I can’t wait anymore. I want—God, I don’t know what I want. But the pressure is so pleasurable that I wrap my legs around his waist, and then he’s moving quickly and I’m matching him stroke for stroke, and—

What the hell?

I scream into his mouth as a feeling so incredible washes over me. I hold onto him, riding on the waves of unbelievable sensations shooting through me.

I’m exhausted, but so purely satisfied. Finally, I know what it feels like to have a big O, and it’s so not a disappointment. I’m lying here with the most famous face in the world, my arms and legs wrapped around him, and I never want to move.

“Am I too heavy?” he asks, sounding like he’s trying to catch his breath.

“No. Not at all. I don’t want you to move.”

“That was more than I could have ever dreamed of. Yes, I’ve dreamed about you. I wanted to touch you all the time. It was so hard to keep my hands off you.”

“I can tell how hard.” I giggle as I think about how hard he’d been.

“Wait a few minutes and I’ll show you hard.” He nuzzles my neck and gently nips me.

“A few minutes, really? Oh, you aren’t kidding.”

“See what you do to me? I spent many a night hard as hell and with no relief, so I’m going to make you suffer as I did.” His hips move, and I feel the delicious pressure building again.

“You call this suffering? Bring it on.” He kisses me soundly, and I can feel him grinning.

“What time is it?” I ask, too tired to lift my head and look at the clock.

“Who cares? I just care that I’m finally holding you in my arms. Time means nothing.” He gently squeezes me, and my feelings are all over the place. I lost track of how many times I had the big O, but all I can say is that the hype is so real.

“Dora, go pack a bag. Not much. In fact, just clothes you’ll be traveling in.” He kisses the top of my head and jumps out of bed. Oh, lord, his butt is so tight, and his muscles, so many lean, hard muscles, I could look at him all day.

“What for? Come back to bed.” I love this bolder Dora. I bet it’s because of the O’s—yep, I’ll have to look it up on the Internet.

“Nope, you get up. We have somewhere to go, and I want to get there soon.” He picks up his pants, pulls them on, grabs his other clothes and then kisses me thoroughly.

“I need a shower first, and you could join me.”

“Tempting, but where we’re going—well, let’s say we’ll have plenty of time for showers. Now hurry.” He yanks open the door and closes it quietly behind him.

Stretching, I feel little aches in places that have been ache free for so long. I always thought running was better than the phantom orgasm, but I was so wrong. The door suddenly opens.

“You have fifteen minutes, so hurry.” Drew looks stern, but winks at me before he turns around and exits again.