Once upon a time, there was a young woman named Hannah, whose prince hadn’t yet found her.

She’d been waiting for twenty-five years (at least as many of those years as she’d been aware of the existence of princes), and she was honestly getting a little impatient with his slowness to appear.

One early winter night, she went out with a very handsome man whom she thought had prince potential. He brought her flowers and took her to dinner and kissed her under the stars, but her heart wasn’t moved.

Neither was her body.

She sent him home without inviting him inside.

She had a tiny apartment in Georgetown—one she could just barely afford even with a good salary as a media specialist at an environmental advocacy nonprofit. Unlike her two best friends, her family wasn’t wealthy, and she’d graduated from an exclusive prep school and an Ivy League university on scholarship. Her parents had raised her to be careful and thrifty, so it made her nervous to use nearly all her paycheck on monthly living expenses. But she’d wanted to avoid a long commute, and she liked living in the same building as her friend Bruce.

She was glad to see her cute little place after she’d said goodbye to her disappointing date. She poured herself a glass of wine and checked her messages to see that her best friends, Charlie and Madison, had both texted to wish her luck on her deflowering that evening.

“Deflowering” was their word, not hers.

She’d wanted to have sex for the first time tonight.

She texted them back to let them know it hadn’t happened after all, and as she did so, another text came in.

This one was from Bruce. He worked for the same nonprofit she did, so she’d known him for the two years since she’d gotten her job. She’d never had a close male friend before in her life. Bruce was her first.

He’d texted, Any action?

If it had been anyone but Bruce, she’d have been embarrassed by the question, by a man knowing she was still a virgin at twenty-five. But it was impossible to be embarrassed around Bruce, and she didn’t really have any secrets from him.

No. I’m home.

Ten minutes after she’d sent the text, she’d changed into her pajamas and settled on the sofa with her wine to watch TV when someone knocked on her door.

Frowning, she got up to answer it, checking the peephole to discover it was Bruce.

He wore jeans and a black T-shirt but still managed to look expensive and pulled together. He had medium brown hair—cut very close since he didn’t like his curls—a short beard, and blue, heavy-lidded eyes that gave him a perpetually sexy look.

Swinging the door open, she frowned at him. “Don’t you have a date tonight?”

“I’ve already had it.”

“It’s just after eleven. You had time for dinner and sex already?”

He gave her a slow smile with slightly raised eyebrows. His naughty smile, she called it. “Drinks and sex. No dinner.”

She shook her head. “You couldn’t even bother to pay for dinner for her?”

“She was on some sort of strange diet where she couldn’t have anything good. She picked around at a couple of plates of tapas, but then we just gave up and went for the good stuff.”

Hannah shook her head, stepping out of the way to let him into her apartment. “Was she disappointed?”

“No. Why would she be?”

“Because you rushed through the evening to get to the sex and then walked out on her.”

“That’s not what happened. We both knew what we wanted. We enjoyed it well enough. Then it was over.” He sounded bland, perfectly composed, as he poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle she’d opened earlier.

Hannah propped up on one of the two stools at her tiny island. “Are you sure? Women sometimes want more than a quick roll in the hay, you know.”

“A roll in the hay?” The dry lilt to Bruce’s voice made her smile.

“Yes. A roll in the hay. My mom used to use that expression. A meaningless round of sex.”

“It’s not meaningless if it’s good for both her and me. I promise she enjoyed it.”

She shook her head again with a sigh. “Whatever.”

The wry little tilt of his mouth settled into something serious. “If you have something to say, just say it.”

“I did say it. How do you know all those women you’re screwing don’t want something else from you?”

“If they do, it’s not because I ever give them the impression there’s anything else to get from me. I’m always honest, Hannah. You know I am. I was honest with you, wasn’t I?”

She snorted. “Yes. When you came on to me after my second day of work and suggested we could have a very good time together, you were very honest.”

“And you were honest about saying you didn’t do that. And I immediately let it go, didn’t I?”

“Yes. You did.”

Bruce hadn’t so much as given her a hot look ever since the evening two years ago when she’d told him she wasn’t interested. She knew that spoke well of him, and if she’d occasionally been a bit disappointed that he’d given up so easily, she knew that wasn’t a fair or rational feeling.

Bruce was a decent guy at heart even though he screwed a different woman almost every week.

She asked lightly, “But how are you ever going to fall in love if you just jump from one bed to another?”

“I’m not looking to fall in love. You’re the one led by your heart. Not me. My heart remains just as untouched as your body.” He paused as he gave her a close look and said in a different tone. “Speaking of, enough stalling with questions about me. What happened tonight?”

She gave a little shrug and slumped forward. “I don’t even know.”

“You were so sure he was the one.”

“Yeah. I don’t know. I really liked him. And he seemed perfect for me. But when we got back to my front door and he kissed me, it just... it didn’t feel right.”

“How did it feel?” Bruce’s vivid blue eyes scanned her face with close scrutiny.

“I don’t know. Awkward. Artificial. Like there was this guy in my face, and I’ve only known him for a month, and it felt exhausting to think about taking my clothes off.”

He chuckled, his eyes still resting on her face.

“It’s not funny,” she said, feeling more depressed than ever. “What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I get swept away like everyone else?”

“I’m not sure that what you’re expecting is really what sex feels like. It feels good. But it’s not like who you are vanishes in some sort of romantic fantasy. You’re always you. And you always know it’s you, doing the things you’re doing. And sometimes it feels a little strange to be with someone else that way.”

“Even for you?”

“Yes. Even for me.”

“You’ve never been swept away?”

He frowned for a moment, clearly thinking through her question. “I... I don’t know. I’ve had lust hit me really strong, sure. But swept away by more than that? No. I don’t think so. You’ve watched too many romantic movies. It’s not like that in real life.”

She realized he was probably right, but that just made her feel even more glum. “All those movies and stories had to be based on something, didn’t they?”

“Wishful thinking.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I’m serious,” he said, reaching over to put a hand on her wrist. “Hannah, if you keep expecting your world to be shaken to the core the moment your hero appears on the scene, you’re never going to recognize the right guy for you even if he’s right in front of your eyes.”

Her eyes held his for a long moment, and she felt a strange little shiver run up and down her spine.

She didn’t know how to understand it, so she just ignored it.

“I’m not giving up.”

“I’m not expecting you to. But I’m the one who has to cheer you up every time you’re disappointed when a date doesn’t go the way you want.”

“You don’t have to cheer me up. No one asked you to come over, you know.”

“But aren’t you glad I did?”

She gave him a little smile. “Yeah. Of course I am. And I know you’re probably right. I’m over-romanticizing the whole thing, so it never lives up to what I hope.” She paused. “Maybe after I have sex the first time, it won’t always feel like such a big deal, so it will be easier to just take men as they are.”

He didn’t reply to that—just kept watching her with that close scrutiny.

She sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong. I just sometimes wonder if, because I’ve waited so long, I’ve built it up too much in my mind. So I just need to get it over with so I can put it in better perspective.”

“Maybe,” he murmured.

“But how the hell am I supposed to approach the topic with the guys I date? Yeah, so here’s the thing. I’m a virgin, and I want to do something about it. You don’t mind helping me out, do you?”

As she said the words, she suddenly had an idea. A completely new idea. A brainstorm that hit her out of the blue.

She could only envision one man in the world doing such a thing for her.

And she was talking to him right now.

Bruce made a choked sound in his throat. “I think you’ll find that plenty of guys would be happy to oblige.”

She wondered if he was one of them. Then she wondered if she’d ever be brave enough to ask him. “Yeah. I guess. It just feels... I don’t know. I’ll keep thinking about it. And I’m not ruling out the guy of my dreams finally appearing.”

“Maybe he will,” Bruce said, his voice slightly rough. “Maybe he will.”