Thank you for your kind support of my locked-down madness. I appreciate it.

Standard disclaimer.

My heart throbbed in my chest, as I watch Sam unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants.

His gaze remained locked on mine the entire time, like this striptease was for me, and me alone. So damn sexy.

He took off his jeans, flicking the material down one muscular leg at a time, to reveal his green boxer briefs.

Then, he reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

The light from my bedside lamp, highlighted his ripped biceps, his sculpted chest and washboard abs.

I glimpsed the tattoo on his rib cage. Swirls of black letters curled along his smooth skin, and I could only hope for the chance, to examine it more closely one day.

"So, you do sleep on that side...not just at my place," he said matter-of-factly, as he slipped into my bed.

We lay facing each other.

Studying each other.

Drinking each other in.

"Sam," I said, taking a deep breath. "What happened to that girl you were seeing?"

"Dunno. We haven't talked in a while," he said and then, "Guess I've had other things on my mind."

He reached out and skimmed his fingertips over my shoulder and then up to my jawline, sending a bolt of electricity through me.

Anticipation coiled into a tight ball in my stomach.

I couldn't take it anymore.

I wanted him.

I needed him.

I don't think I've ever been more desperate to kiss someone, like I was now.

Chill bumps broke out on my skin and raced up and down my arms and back.

"Mercedes?" Sam stroked my lips with his finger. The heat from his touch, shot right through my stomach, whispering a trail along my thighs. I panted out a breath.

"Yes?"

"I don't know what this is, or what the hell we're doing," he said. "But if I don't kiss you right now, I might explode."

His fingers curled over the nape of my neck and into my hair, tugging me nearer.

"God, Sam." My voice was breathy, and my head rolled back against his fingers.

He whispered soft kisses against my neck, along my jaw, and below my ear.

Then, he nipped at my bottom lip, and I fought for air.

He slid his thumb over my cheeks and stared deeply into my eyes, right before his lips brushed over mine, so gently that I shivered.

Did this man have to take everything in measured steps?

I was dying a slow erotic death.

He positioned his body over mine.

"I love your eyes. They remind me of chocolate, with flecks of gold," he softly said.

My hands rested on his chest and I moved them up to his hair.

It was silky-smooth, and I closed my fists around the velvety strands.

Then, the soft pillows of his lips hummed in concert against mine.

When his tongue slipped between my lips, I whimpered.

He explored my mouth slowly and carefully. And all the nerve endings in my body began to pulse against him.

He reached into my hair, tightening his hold and deepening the kiss.

His tongue lapped against mine, like his life depended on it, and something that sounded like a growl, emerged from the back of his throat, sending another heat wave ripping through me.

Sam was kissing the shit out of me and I couldn't breathe, but I didn't care, because, if this is what kissing him felt like, I could get my fill of oxygen later.

He pulled my lower lip into his mouth, and then my top lip, taking his time sucking each one, as my fingers dug deeper into his neck.

His hands never traveled south, even though I would have welcomed them.

All of his focus was on my lips.

And then on my neck.

And then on my ear.

His hot breath made my toes curl.

This man knew how to kiss.

He shifted again and the entire length of him covered me.

I felt every place on his body that touched mine...his chest, his stomach, his pelvis...

He claimed a patch of skin, at the base of my throat and drew it into his mouth hungrily and the ache between my legs intensified, making me tilt my hips against his.

His tongue slid back inside my mouth, wet, deep, and forceful...like he was starving, and I was his last meal.

I fought to keep my breaths steady.

They were as reckless, as my thundering heart rate.

An eternity passed, before Sam took a breath, but I immediately grieved the loss of his tongue.

My lips were swollen, and my face stung from his light stubble, but I'd welcome him back in a heartbeat.

No questions asked.

He looked into my eyes for a long, silent moment, before kissing the hell out of me again.

His mouth captured mine, in a desperate, frenzied, heated rush.

I felt as though, I was jumping off a cliff, sinking, drowning, and couldn't have cared less, about being saved, as long as he kept kissing me.

I was aroused, flying sky-high, and could barely take anymore.

I wanted this man, if he'd have me.

He pulled me on top of him, and I could feel his hard-on bumping against the thin material of my underwear.

He was hot and throbbing and I was panting and desperate, from need.

I traced my hand down his stomach to the top of his shorts, and he shuddered out a breath.

He latched on to my hand, and stopped me.

"Mercedes, I don't know what you're doing to me."

"The same thing you're doing to me," I said between heavy breaths. "Sam, I want you." His whole body stiffened. And then he moved from under me.

"I...I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't?" My voice had raised an octave. "Why the hell did you come over, Sam?"

"Because I can't stop thinking about you." He placed his head in his hands. "You're the sexiest woman I've ever met."

This man was the personification of sexy, so him thinking the same about me, was mind bending.

A shiver of gratitude raced through me, only to vanish, like that vivid moment, when a snowflake lands on your fingertip, pure and whole, the second before it dissolves.

"What's the problem, then?"

"Mercedes..." He reached for his shirt on the floor. "I'm...waiting."

"Obviously," I said. "Waiting for what?"

"For the right girl," he said, sitting up. So, he did think I was some kind of whore. A sexy whore, at that. I balled my fists and considered using them on him.

"Oh, I get it...I'm nice to sleep next to and grope on the dance floor…"

I didn't know what I was getting so uptight about.

He had clearly explained to me, that he wanted a commitment. And I had made it clear, I wasn't girlfriend material. So, why did it upset me that he didn't think so, either?

"No! You don't understand, Mercedes," he said. "I want you. Damn it, I want you, like I've never wanted anyone before."

"But…?"

"But…" The look in Sam's eyes was resigned, dutiful even.

"I'm a virgin, Mercedes." I slumped forward, as if I'd been sucker-punched in the gut.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm pretty sure you don't need a definition," he said, rushing his fingers through his hair.

I stared at him, for what seemed like hours, thoughts ticking through my brain.

A slide show of our time together.

The party, the sleepovers, the dance floor.

"Go ahead, get it out," he said, arms crossed over his chest. "I've heard it all."

I shook my head, not sure what he wanted.

And then, his voice went up a register to sound distinctly female.

"Maybe I'll be the one to break you, Sam…"

Hadn't I tried to break him?

My pulse pitched at that realization. "Or how about this one...I'd rather be with someone who knows what they're doing."

That last girly imitation, made me sit all the way up.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously," he said, looking crushed and angry all at once.

"Okay, I get it," I said. "This is like breaking headline news for some women, including me."

"Obviously." He pulled his shirt over his head and then brought it down over his smooth chest.

"I guess I just want to understand." I fisted the sheet in my hand. "Can you explain it to me?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Do I really have to?"

"No, you don't. I'm sorry." I averted my eyes, feeling like an idiot, then, said to him, "You have the right to your own privacy. That was stupid of me."

"No Mercedes, I'm the stupid one," he huffed. "I don't know what I'm doing here. I want to know you, I crave being around you. But you've made it clear, you don't do relationships."

"And you've made it clear that you do. So, I'm to blame as well."

I wanted to tell him I hungered for him, too, that I felt the exact same way...but, the very thought of sharing that, was terrifying and would have blurred the lines even further.

"Look, I've been taking care of my mom and sister, for as long as I can remember.

My mom was a teenager when she had me, and we had to live with my aunt for a while," he said, explaining himself after all.

And I didn't want him to stop talking, so I kept my mouth shut.

"My mother's been in so many crappy relationships. Men treated her like garbage."

"Same with my mom," I whispered, more to myself than to him. He was up and pacing at this point.

"I swore to myself, I would never have casual sex and knock a girl up. I've always worked odd jobs to help my mom pay the bills...and there's no way in hell, I was going to support my own kid, too."

"But don't you think that's extreme?" I asked. He rolled his eyes, like he'd heard that one before, too.

Probably from the hordes of girls, that wanted him so badly.

But still, I tried making my point.

"There's plenty of good birth control out there, and lots of people are having sex and not getting pregnant."

"Like you?" he said, before a look of regret shot through his eyes. "Damn it. I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. Guess I'm feeling defensive."

"I deserved that...and for the record, I don't always have sex. But I'm not ashamed of wanting it sometimes, either."

"I hate...that you saying that, makes me jealous." He stared at me, distress in his eyes. A guy jealous over me, was a feeling I wasn't accustomed to.

"Shit, this is so messed up...but it's more than all of that, Mercedes," he said, and went on.

"I saw how casual guys were with my mother, how they threw around the word love, to get what they wanted, when I knew it was all a bunch of bullshit."

I nodded, knowing full well, what he meant. I'd seen it plenty in my house, too.

"I want something real," he whispered. "And I'm willing to wait for it." My throat closed up at his words.

"Are you…waiting for marriage?" I asked.

"No." He looked me dead in the eye. "I'm just waiting for love."

Those words rocked me hard.

He sounded so honest and sincere and brave.

"Have you never been in love before?" I asked.

I had, once only.

Brian and I were sixteen and about to make love for the first time. And then Tom ruined it for me. For us.

Like a big dark shadow, that turned our love into fear, and eventually hatred.

If I could have a redo of my first time, I'd take it in a heartbeat.

I wouldn't be so scared, so distrustful.

Maybe then, Brian wouldn't have been so shitty to me, after all was said and done.

"I thought I was in love once, but then I realized how very wrong I was," he said. "So I don't plan on making that mistake again."

Here was a guy who actually valued women. And he had to meet someone like me.

"Believe it or not, Sam, I respect you so much more now."

"Is that all you feel for me…respect?" he asked, inching toward me. "Because the way you were kissing me..."

He wanted something from me, that I couldn't give him.

Not now.

Not ever.

Man, this was tough.

I wanted him, bad.

But there was no way in hell I could have him.

Not when our goals were so vastly different.

So why did the idea of walking away, sliced somewhere deep inside my heart?

He was just another guy.

A hot, deep, irresistible guy...who happened to be a virgin.

And happened to live in my building, where I'd be forced to run into him all the time.

Fuck my life.

"I feel…horny," I said.

He shook his head and his jaw ticked.

"I'm sorry, you have to be attracted to someone like me. I can't be that girl for you, Sam."

His eyes drilled a hole through me, trying to reach inside and grasp on to something.

"You can't, or you won't?" I shut my eyes tight against the truth.

"Both."

"He's a virgin?" Marley screeched. I ducked my head from probing eyes.

Quinn, Marley, and I were back at the campus coffee shop, in a cushioned corner booth, in between classes.

Quinn was a business major, and after Sam's declaration that one day in the laundry room, that my field of study should have been something more cutthroat, I couldn't help thinking, it was the perfect major for her.

Marley was a psychology major, and she liked to use her mumbo jumbo terms on me, saying that I was repressing my feelings about Tom and projecting them onto men everywhere.

"Holy crap!" Quinn said. "You realize how messed up it sounds, that he just happens to be attracted to a bitch-ass like you?" I rolled my eyes.

"Geez, thanks a lot, dickhead." I may have acted nonchalant, but I wanted to pound slap her. Was it really that far-fetched of an idea?

"She didn't mean it that way," Marley said, giving Quinn big eyes and then, "You're a lot of things, Mercedes. A lot of wonderful things...for a bitch-ass."

Wow! Things got a little steamy there for a bit, didn't it? But, now we see why Sam is so reserved. Isn't he a wonderful guy? Mercedes just need to let go and let live, that's what I think. Until next time, stay safe and stay blessed.